#the entire world: ‘you’re nothing you’re worthless and you’re inhuman’

[cerberussyndrome]

on catalysts

summary: meta not!fic about Team Minato being the big turning points in each others’ character arcs.

cw: canon-typical violence + child soldier-ing, canon compliant character death

Rin is Obito's, Obito (and before him, Sakumo) is Kakashi's. (Obito might also be Rin's, who knows. Minato's kind of a blank canvas in his early years.)

The boys fixate. The boys mourn. The boys idealize. The boys, to an extent, polish their memories into something that reflects what they need more than what the other person was. This comes with problems.

For Obito, Rin is the first person who believes in him and his dreams.

He's the Uchiha black sheep, the perpetually-tardy laughing stock of his graduating class. For fuck's sake, the kid loses to Guy because he's eating candy.

Rin is his best friend, his constant support. When he opens up about his personal and often-mocked dream of becoming Hokage, Rin's response isn't to laugh, or to tease, but to encourage him. Yes, she says, let's end the war. Let's change everything. She says, don't pretend with me. And he's in love with her, of course. He's young, in the middle of a war, and in love with her, and the intensity of those emotions felt like they stretched to encompass the entire sky. She is his most precious person. (They are going to survive the war, he thinks, they are going to win.)

And then the rocks are falling, Kakashi is falling, and it's not even a choice.

(He gives Kakashi his eye — you're a great jounin — like proof, like rebellion. Here is a thing that says I lived. His last request he spends on Rin: keep her safe. His last thought is only a quiet wish for more time.)

Obito wakes up in the dark. Half his body isn't his fucking body anymore, and he's imprisoned in some weird-ass cave with his creepy ancestor(?) and some inhuman plant-thingies. He can't move. He's a ninja and he can't move and his team probably thinks he's dead, and there's a war on. There's a war on, holy shit what if they die and he's stuck here in this fucking cave and he never even sees the sun again?

So he trains.

When he's tired, and lonely, he thinks about them — Rin and Kakashi and Minato-sensei. He dreams of them, even.

He gets out of the cave and he's running, he's running, his team is in danger, Rin is in danger, where the hell is Minato-sensei?

He comes into the clearing and the first thing he sees is Kakashi's hand through Rin's chest.

(When Obito was younger, when faith was a solid thing beneath his fingertips, he thought that life was good, people were good. Sometimes he looked at Rin, laughing, joyful, and tucked the sight of it away in his chest. It was a warm ember that burned bright even when there was shame in his stomach or fear in his throat. He screamed as the rocks fell, as his team ran for their lives and he was left behind in the dark. When he woke up in that cold cave, he warmed his hands on that memory of love and smiled.)

His eye burns. Like broken promises, like blood between his fingers, like the full moon overhead.

Rin is dead.

Rin is dead, his team's betrayed him, the whole world must've felt like it was ending.

Madara offers an alternate solution. Obito turns away from his childhood dreams, his childhood faith in other people — what good was that, was good was he then? — and embraces a dream world in its place.

Afterward, Rin is less a girl than she is a memento, all that was good in the world and all that he lost, proof that his theory is indeed correct. It doesn't matter, later, that Rin's death was her own choice, a sacrifice, an act of heroism. Everything that was good about Konoha was personal, for Obito, because everything that was good about Konoha was in Rin. In the coming years, Obito believes the entirety of the world is worthless, the entirety of the world is hell. There is nothing worth saving here.

In death, Obito turns Rin from a soldier to a shrine, as if she were the only thing untouched by the sins of the mortal earth.

—

For Kakashi, Sakumo is everything: not only his father, his precious parent, but the sum of Kakashi's expectations of the world. He is a clan child and a prodigy and there is never doubt that he'll become a shinobi — and the White Fang of Konoha is the epitome of a shinobi.

Then his father comes back, turns distant, turns cold, turns strangely, terribly sad. Kakashi clings. When that doesn't work, doesn't retrace time back to before, Kakashi trains. His father is everything in the world — Kakashi will make him proud if it kills him.

Then he comes home one day and opens the study door and his father's blood pools around his feet.

Afterward, he looks for something infallible to hold his faith.

(Sentiment led to his father’s fall. Conversely, a shinobi with no emotion would be the perfect tool. If Sakumo hadn’t loved his team, perhaps he’d be alive.)

Obito is the antithesis of a soldier. He's loud, emotional. He's the opposite of a shinobi, Kakashi thinks, and all Kakashi wants these days is to be the consummate shinobi (not like his father). He was never all that nice in the first place, given to honesty over flattery, and Obito stands in opposition to everything Kakashi is and wants to be. It gets under his skin. They argue. They compete. Kakashi beats him; thinks, there. Thinks, is that enough proof for you? Thinks, get your act together before you get us killed.

They take Rin. And Kakashi knows, deep in his gut, that this is it, this is his crucible, this is what he has been waiting for; this is how he will prove he is better than his father.

Obito says, The White Fang was a hero.

Kakashi tries to run. He tries to leave them behind, this wreck of a team that's always been a burden, but his shoulder twinges. He thinks of Rin, Rin's careful hands and cool chakra, thinks of Obito, his ironclad loyalty, thinks of Minato-sensei saying, teamwork.

He goes back. He loses an eye, gains infinitely more precious things in its place: trust and faith and being part of a greater whole.

The rocks fall.

The dust clears.

It is Obito in the dirt, Obito crushed and bleeding. Kakashi knows in his bones that it should've been him.

Obito gives him his eye. Kakashi swears in turn, gains purpose in this frenzied war other than the drive to survive and climb the ranks and bring glory to his name. At Obito’s grave, Kakashi can admit that he was wrong. The things he thought mattered — rules and records and his name decoupled from his father's — never had. He has a second chance now, and he won't waste it.

Rin jumps in front of his Raikiri, and there is something blank in Kakashi's head, something disbelieving. Then there's only darkness. He wakes up to white hospital walls and the smell of antiseptic. Even though his hands are clean, he can't get rid of the feeling of Rin's blood between his fingers, like grief, like failure, like accusation.

(What would Obito say to him now?)

(His father had been many things, but he'd saved all his teammates.)

A couple years later, war come and gone, Kyuubi come and gone, everyone who Kakashi loves is dead. In the mornings, he spends hours in front of the memorial stone, looking for atonement at first, then just something to ease the loneliness. In the meantime, Obito's turned from dead-last burden to aching regret — a martyr to friendship and misplaced faith. Kakashi polishes his memory of him into something unreal and perfect. Sometimes in his darker moments, he warmed himself with the shining memory of him. He spends his life trying (and failing) to live up to his own impossible standards.

Obito becomes the sum of all his regrets and mistakes and failures, everything he might've had if he'd only gotten over himself, if he'd only been better.

tl;dr In the process of becoming a villain, or something like it, Obito memorializes Rin, disregards everything she died for. In the process of becoming a hero, or something like it, Kakashi idealizes Obito, tries to embody everything he died for.

#my writing #naruto #meta #not!fic #i wrote this literal years ago #anyway team minato makes me sad #uchiha obito #hatake kakashi #nohara rin

[aspiring-ginger]

Forget-Me-Not Ch.1 (Jaskier x Reader)

Summary: Y/n is a college student who stumbles into the world of the witcher. Part 1 of ???

Warnings: Depression, mental illness, swearing

Word count: 2,823

Pairing(s): Jaskier x fem!reader, platonic Geralt x fem!reader

A/N: Hi guys!! I’ve recently fallen deep into the witcher hell! Having read many modern girl in Thedas fics for dragon age, I figured I’d try my hand at a modern girl in the continent sort of fic! This is my first fic so I apologize for any errors. Feedback always appreciated! Enjoy!

Masterlist I Next I

You stood up from your spot on the bed with a stretch, wondering how long you’ve been caught up in your work this time. Final exams were coming up and you knew you needed to study quite a bit for that one damned class where the professor just hated your guts. You scoffed at your understatement.

“Hates the whole world and the concept of fun itself, more like”, you grumbled to yourself as you collected various notes and papers strewn about the blankets.

It was nearing the end of fall semester of your second year of college, so time was quickly ticking by until the time came for you to choose your major. You opted to go in undecided, with a plan to get as many generic classes over with first. Frankly, you still had no idea what to choose, and you thought it was ridiculous that you were expected to decide the fate of your whole adult career just based on a few classes. 

You checked the time, 1:47 am. Stuffing everything back into your backpack, you debated whether you should just call it a night and go to bed, or stay up for just a little bit longer doing something you enjoy before bed. You knew it was probably a good idea to go to sleep but you just couldn’t help that itch in your brain that needed some fun. Netflix released their newest series The Witcher which you were very excited for, and had gone and played all of the games in preparation and to get a feel for the world. Obviously you fell in love with the story and you couldn’t wait to watch the show, but you had shown some restraint and restricted yourself from watching any of it until after finals were done because, let’s be honest, you knew you would get sucked in and binge the whole entire thing instead of studying.

It wasn’t too late at night, there have definitely been much later nights this week, plus you had done such a good job actually studying instead of putting everything off until the last minute….. it wouldn’t hurt to watch just one episode, would it? You glanced around the room, noting that your roommate wasn’t there. Right. She said she was studying with her boyfriend and wouldn’t be home that night. “Studying”. You shrugged and changed into your pajamas, then hopped back into bed with a laugh. All your friends had been talking about this show and now you could actually participate in their conversations! You quickly settled in, switched on your tv, and started the first episode.

Your mind was absolutely racing. What a great way to end the season!! You’d been on the edge of your seat waiting to see what would happen to Tissaia and Yennefer, and your heart just melted at the sight of Geralt and Ciri finally meeting. You grabbed your phone to text your best friend all about it when- 

“Oh FUCK,” Your lock screen showed the time, 10:03 am. You missed your fucking 8 am class, the one you had just spent all that time studying for, because you did the exact fucking thing you promised yourself you wouldn’t do. Thankfully it was only a review day before the final, but it was the last review day before the final, and you still had questions on the material. You groaned and slumped down in your bed, burying your face into your pillow. 

’Such a fucking idiot, I cant believe this is fucking happening,’ you thought, tears of frustration welling up in your eyes, ’of course I would do this, this is just so me. Fucking stupid and dumb and worthless and-’

Your spiraling thoughts of self loathing were interrupted by your roommate opening the door and slipping into your shared room. You reluctantly picked up your head when you heard her call out your name with a sigh.

“Really (y/n)? You fall asleep studying again? You really should set an alarm or something, didn’t you miss your early class or whatever?” She asked as she plopped down on her bed, kicking off her shoes. “I know you were super stressed about studying this year but jeez- oh come on. Netflix? Really? What happened to ms ’I’m going to do such a good job studying this semester and kissing professor what’s his face’s ass so I get a good grade’?” She mocked.

Your cheeks burned as you tried to subtly wipe off the tears streaked down your face “Look I actually have been doing a better job at keeping up with my work and everything this semester, so I can stand to take a fucking break every once and awhile!” You huffed

Your roommate rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Seriously? Haven’t you missed like 15 classes or something? Just stop kidding yourself and accept that you’re just not going to get that good of a grade, dude. Plus can’t you just play the whole depression card and get like, an extended deadline or something? Pft, I wish I could have something like that. My life would be sooo much easier. Ugh. Whatever. I’m going to take a nap, I’m tired. If you need to cry go do it somewhere else or I will throw a pillow at you," 

You flipped her off and got out of bed. You still had 2 more classes to go to, and those review packets weren’t going to do themselves. You got ready with a sigh. It was going to be a long day.

You sat down on a bench outside, having just finished your last class of the day. It had been pretty miserable as you predicted, your brain just absolute mush after staying awake for so long. Your temper was definitely shorter, and you had snapped at your friends way more than you should have. You had just paused to take out your earbuds and put on some music for the walk back to your dorm, when you felt a pit settle at the bottom of your stomach. You knew you definitely needed sleep, but that wouldn’t explain your sudden feeling of unease. You sat up and glanced around you, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was only late afternoon but already dark out, and there weren’t many students around. You put your headphones in and adjusted your coat, trying to ignore that feeling and started your walk back home.

As you walked, you could have sworn you saw someone following you out of the corner of your eye, but each time you turned around there was nothing but the usual barren trees and dull leaves covering the sidewalk. You reassured yourself that if somebody actually was following you, you’d be able to hear them crunching the leaves behind you. Even though you were listening to your music. Right. Everything was fine.

You nervously fiddled with the straps of your backpack as you paused to double check behind you. Again, there was nothing there, but you still had that sinking feeling in your stomach and it had only been getting worse as you kept going. You felt the hair on the back of your neck stand on end, and you could’ve sworn you heard something rustle the leaves behind you- you whipped your head back around and there was still nothing. It then crossed your mind that even though it was dark, there definitely should be people around. Classes should be ending and students should be walking home, but there was no one. You began to pick up your pace, going into a nervous jog. Your building was almost in sight, just a few more minutes and then you’d be safe- a hot bolt of terror hit and you broke into a sprint. You didn’t dare look behind you as you ran, you didn’t even know why you were running but you had a feeling that you should. You felt hot breath against the back of your neck and something claw against your back. You pushed yourself to run faster, your blood pounding in your ears along with your music. 

Your feet stomped across the sidewalk, almost there you could almost see your dorm! These damn leaves were everywhere, so many that you couldn’t even make out where the sidewalk ended and the grass began. Your foot slipped, ankle rolling as you fell face first into the leaves. You scrambled back up and continued running, your headphones now hanging around your neck. You spat out leaves as you cursed, weaving between trees that began to slow you down. Wait. Trees? You glanced to where various classrooms and dorms should’ve been, now replaced with thick, dense trees on all sides. You still heard the- the thing, whatever it was, behind you. You felt it’s hot sickly breath on your neck. You could smell the rotting stench of decay and blood. You heard it’s ragged panting and inhuman whine. It’s claws swiped at your back once more, and you seethed in pain. Your ankle was on fire and you didn’t know how much further you could run. 

Suddenly you heard the distinct sound of metal clanging behind you, followed by a wet squelch. You turned your head to look, still running forward, daring to get a glimpse of what possibly could be chasing you. You caught a flash of silver and black and brown before you collided into a tree and everything went black.

You heard muffled conversation when you briefly regained consciousness. It was loud and rushed and sounded like arguing? You couldn’t make out any words so you tried to turn your head in the direction of the noise, but found that task much more difficult than you thought. You huffed at the fogginess of your mind and the shouting came to an abrupt stop. Though you couldn’t open your eyes, you felt the presence of someone in front of you. You heard a murmur of something you couldn’t quite catch- and you slipped back into a deeper sleep.

When you woke for the second time it was a lot quieter than the first. You could hear the crackle of a fire and the wind rustling through leaves above, and smell the smoke from the fire and the damp earth below. There was also a soft melody coming from somewhere to your left, chords plucked out on an instrument you couldn’t quite recognize. You could also hear the grating sound of metal on metal. Was someone sharpening a blade? You groaned as you tried to sit up. Though your body felt stiff and your head full of cotton balls, your muscles responded accordingly. The music came to a stop as you blinked awake.

"Uhh, Geralt? I think she’s awake now, for real. Could you please not use your witchery magic on our mysterious guest so we can actually, I dunno, talk to her? Ask her some questions? Instead of just rushing ahead with your steel or silver- oh alright then,” A voice called out, and you heard the crunch of footsteps coming towards you.

You looked to the source of the voice and found a brown haired man holding a funny looking guitar standing in front of a log near a campfire. You rubbed your eyes and realized no, that wasn’t a guitar but a mandolin? Lute? Some weird instrument, so he must’ve been the source of the music. He was dressed in a dark blue matching set of… some sort of renaissance costume? His jacket was undone and he wore a plain white shirt underneath, the top of which was unlaced so a few strands of chest hair poked out. His loose yet tight fitting pants were tucked into a pair of tall leather boots. He sure looked committed to his costume, even holding a quill in his other hand.

Your attention was quickly turned to the man approaching you. He had long silver hair, half pulled back, and was dressed in all black. His outfit matched the same renaissance theme as his friend, though less showy and more practical. His tight leather pants, rolled up sleeves, and very realistic looking sword were certainly eye catching, but what drew you in the most were his eyes. They were a bright golden color, and his irises had a slight curve to them that almost reminded you of a cat’s. You realized that they must be cosplayers who already have costumes from the new show. They were both very high quality, and the special attention to detail was amazing.

The Geralt cosplayer knelt down in front of you, his hand gripping your shoulder tight.

“Who are you and where did you come from?” He demanded with a very accurate impression of the Geralt voice.

“I-I uh,” you cleared your voice “My name is (y/n) and I’m from (hometown). I was just walking back from class to my dorm when this thing started chasing me and I was running and- wait, what happened to it? Where am I? And why the hell are you guys dressed like that what’s going on?! Is this some sort of prank or something? Or- or a photoshoot? I don’t understand,”

You tried to scooch back away from the strange man, but his grip stayed strong and he just narrowed his eyes. 

“Oh the Ekimmara? Geralt already delt with it, my lady, don’t you fret. You’re safe now with us,” The Jaskier lookalike piped up from his log.

The Geralt sighed, “Yes, the Ekimmara is dead. You reek of magic and your clothes are strange, yet I can sense that you’re not a mage. Who are you?”

You had to admit, their costumes were amazing and their impressions were flawless. They even looked strikingly similar to the real actors.

“Look I already told you. I was at school, something chased me, and I woke up here. I’m already having a shitty day with my classes and college bullshit, and I just want to go home. Your cosplays are very nice, but I really don’t have time for this,”

“College? As in Oxenfurt University? I’ll have you know I just graduated from there before running into Geralt here, but I can’t say I recognize you. Are you perhaps in more art and painting classes? Although I am, of course, a master of the seven arts- poetry and song are much more my strong suit,” The Jaskier said, walking up.

“Jaskier,” Geralt warned with a glare, removing his hand from your shoulder.

“Look I get it! You really have the characters down. Can I please just go home now?” You shifted away from Geralt. You realized you weren’t wearing your coat, instead it had been draped across you acting as a makeshift blanket as you sat on a bed roll.

“Characters? My lady, are you alright? See, Geralt? I told you to go easy with the axii nonsense, now she’s confused.” Jaskier exclaimed with a scoff.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at you and put his sword down. 

“What? I’m not confused!” You protested “You even have the Jaskier attitude down perfect. Can I go now? Or you at least tell me where we are?”

“You know my name? How do you know who I am, I haven’t even introduced myself yet! I know I’ve played at many of the local taverns, but I would’ve recognized a face so lovely as yours,” Jaskier tried to mask his unease with his usual flirtatious remarks.

Geralt held a hand up for Jaskier to stop talking “Who do you think we are, and what do you know of us?”

“Well that’s easy,” you scoffed. “You’re dressing up as Geralt of Rivia. You know witcher, white wolf, travelling with your best friend Jaskier. And then you would be Jaskier-or Dandelion but I think you’re aiming for more Jaskier.”

Jaskier looked stunned, while Geralt pressed further “Dressing up as?”

“Yes. Cosplaying, whatever term you want to use. And you’re doing a great job acting like them too, but you can cut it out now. It was cool, but now it’s just getting old." 

"So…you think we’re acting? Playing the roles of Geralt and myself? We’re not characters, we’re real. And I’m not his best friend. A friend definitely, but he would never admit it. What do you know us from?”

“The Witcher. The show, the games, the books. They’re super popular again. I think it’s even back on the charts for top selling fantasy or something." 

Geralt and Jaskier exchanged looks.

"Geralt, why don’t you show her something to prove that you’re the real deal. Something only a witcher could do?”

Geralt raised his hand and traced a symbol in the air. A small ball of flame appeared in his hand, which he stretched out towards you. You could feel the heat from the fire against your skin and you looked at the two men in shock.

“What the fuck?!”

#jaskier x reader #jaskier x you #jaskier imagine #dandelion x reader #dandelion x you #dandelion imagine #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt imagine #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt of rivia imagine #the witcher #the witcher x reader #the witcher x you #the witcher netflix #the witcher netflix x reader #the witcher netflix x you #the witcher imagine #the witcher netflix imagine #fanfiction #my writing #what the hell even is this #forget-me-not #jaskier #dandelion #geralt #geralt of rivia

[girlmeetsliv3]

Datura: Prologue

Warning: The following story contains mentions of suicide, depression, anxiety, manipulation, abuse, and vivid descriptions of abusive acts. The behavior and mindset of the characters in this series will be incredibly yandere and toxic. This is a work of fiction and doesn’t represent the character of bangtan sonyeondan. Enjoy ~~~

Datura: 0   I   II   III   IV  V   VI   Vll

           “You once swore to me that whenever I asked you for a simple favor, you would do it. No questions asked. No hesitation, remember?” Jimin stood towards the edge of the bed staring at you with a lack of emotions you had never witnessed before. His dark eyes merely pools of emptiness. No remorse. Nothing. “You won’t break that promise now will you, baby?” His voice was so soft and sweet, as it always was and you knew that man would kill you and do it with the prettiest of words. As tears rolled down your face and you choked back a sob, you shook your head.

           “That’s a good girl. See that is why you are our favorite [y/n]. You always do what you're told.” Taehyung’s mellow tone calmed your heart despite the current situation. There was a warning, a double meaning, in his words and you did not miss it. If you lost their favor, you were just like everybody else: useless, worthless, a waste of space. Jimin walked towards you with the delicacy of a dancer, his steps to light it almost looked like he was hovering. The way an angel might, but he wasn’t one. His lips brushed against yours as if reminding to remind you of why you were doing this. Why you had agreed to all this in the first place. They were both waiting for you to speak, to allow them to proceed with this inhumane ritual. All you could do was nod lightly, so as to not allow the uncontrollable sobs to break free from the cage that was your mouth. It was all the confirmation they needed.

           “Let’s begin.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 

It was a bad habit and those tended to kill. All you were doing was dancing, desiring so desperately for the high to last forever. It never did. Usually, someone got to close and demanded your attention, forcing your feet back onto the concrete dancefloor and reality. Sometimes it was a stranger that accidentally bumped into you or the group of girls you’d tagged along with that night. The circumstance never mattered because it elicited the same response: an eye roll and a small “fuck off.” Due to safety concerns, however, you often had to succumb to whatever the group desired even if meant leaving after barely an hour had passed. Tonight would be different though, after six months in the city, you trusted your instincts enough not to get kidnapped, murdered, or sacrificed to a cult. Perhaps you were deluding yourself into the idea that this was normal behavior – seeking a release from everything. All responsibility, all pressures, the suffocating weight of it all that crushed you in your daily life.

           It would be easy to blame others for your behavior. Particularly those who had raised you, but dwelling on the past only surfaced things and feelings you long tried to forget. It only worsened your anxiety. Only worsened the withdrawal. The feeling was never instantaneous: you sometimes found yourself on the dancefloor for hours until it hit, sometimes mere minutes, sometimes it would never happen. In those nights, came the pain, anxiety attacks, and existential crisis that seemed to desire to ruin you entirely. It never did, but it got closer to it every day. Yet none of that mattered tonight, for there was something in the air. The streets seemed emptier, nightlife quieter as if people were afraid to draw too much attention to themselves: it was a warning. One you would have headed if not for the need you’d felt since you had woken up. It was a feeling you had never experienced but that had you anxiously counting down the seconds until the sun went down. Once night came you would be permitted to escape into your own personal wonderland – too bad it would soon be perverted.

           Passing through security was a breeze since you got to cut the line. They knew your face at this point; and though in the beginning, they tried to make conversation or even flirt once they picked up on your disinterest they stopped. It wasn’t even past midnight, yet the bar was overcrowded. You had considered a drink but there were simply too many people tonight and though you could be careless, you weren’t about to be entirely reckless. As you made your way to the dancefloor something felt off. There weren’t any words to describe it, but the feeling caused your entire body to behave abnormally. A nauseating feeling hit you, your mouth felt dry, and your heart pounded against your chest. There was a ringing in your ears that if you focused enough on it almost felt like murmurs. As quickly as it had come it left, replaced by a familiar want. The high seemed to come easier tonight. The DJ playing songs that you were entirely unfamiliar with, but that your body naturally responded to.

           Finally, you felt the buildup; the sensation of transcendence outside of the material world. A blissful subspace you never knew existed until accidentally encountering it one night. Now it was your preferred drug of choice. These moments, as far and few as they were, gave you the will to live. What a pity you would be robbed of it tonight. You felt him before you saw him: cold eyes that penetrated through you. The meaning behind them eliciting dangerous behavior. When you opened your eyes, he was all you saw. Tall, dark brunette, with beautifully tanned skin that peeked out from under his collar. His sharp features eluded an air of importance and bourgeoisie you had never encountered before. He’s what you imagined Adam to have looked like if he existed. There were no words to be exchanged for he was too far away, sitting several meters away in a booth right at the center of the entire club. From there he would have a perfect view of everything, yet his focus was entirely on you.

           It was unnerving, but you soon realized there might be something more as you felt the familiar tightening down there. As if he knew the effect he had on you, the man leaned back into his seat a devilish smirk carved on his beautiful lips. Who is he?            “Don’t you know it's rude to stare?” Hot breath fanned against your ear and caused goosebumps to rise all throughout your body. Instantly you turned around to face your assailant but were left stunned. If the other man was Adam, then this one was so beautiful Eve would be jealous. His feline eyes were lined with charcoal and there was a sensuality he exuded with every breath he took. Completely enraptured by the sight of him, you failed to notice when he approached you again; overstepping any boundaries that might have been in place. You don’t exactly know how long you stood there gawking, most likely more than appropriate, but he seemed not to mind for he caressed your cheek softly. “Aw, baby. You’re so cute.” At his pet name, your cheeks flared up, causing a giggle to leave his lips. How is a man giggling this attractive?!

           No time was given to dwell on it however, for he soon took your hand and entangled it with his; giving it a light kiss so as not to scare you. “Why don’t you join us? I’m sure Tae would love to meet you.” You were about to ask who Tae was until his eyes darted past your shoulder and over to where the other man was sitting. They seemed to communicate silently before his attention returned to you. It was as if your body reacted before you had time to process everything that was occurring, and the words slipped out of your mouth before you could understand the weight of them, “Alright.” This wasn’t like you. Normally once the high was over, you would call an uber and head home. Crashing into bed and sleeping peacefully the way you only in a state of euphoria. Maybe this was the beginning of a new bad habit, one that would lead to your untimely end.

           None of that mattered though, for the smile given to you was enough to take you to heaven and back. The man guided you carefully towards the booth where Tae if that was his full name, was sitting. Though perched forward and anxiously waiting seemed to describe his posture much more. When you reached the booth, the man allowed you to go in first so that you would sit in between the two of them. Though considering how little personal space you had, squished would be a better description. The air around them was thick and tense, but you couldn’t tell yet if it was a bad thing or a good thing. Their focus was entirely on you and it made you incredibly uncomfortable, due to this you cast your eyes down allowing for your hair to lightly obscure your face. That didn’t last long as Tae placed his hand on your chin and pulled it up, its grip soft but firm. “Jimin, I don’t think she has any manners.” As your eyes widened, Jimin let out a hearty laugh. “Go easy on her, Tae. Baby is just shy, right?” The way Jimin pressed his entire body against you, just to whisper that last part in your ear had you breathless. He seemed to have picked up on this, for he made a pleased mhm as he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear.

           Tae still didn’t look convinced and before he got even more upset, you felt the best thing to do was apologize. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude.” It came out so soft, it was difficult to believe the men next to you heard it, but they did. Tae released your chin and gave you a polite smile, before casting his eyes down on your entire body. “What’s a girl like you doing out on a night like this? It isn’t safe.” Despite not knowing anything about the two men they inspired a series of emotions in you, that made your previous highs look like child’s play. “I came to dance. To forget.” Tae seemed pleased at your response, for he smiled again but this time it was a large boxy smile. Had you not been distracted, by the feeling of Jimin’s palm sliding up your clenched thighs closer to your core you might have died of shock at how innocent Tae looked. The actions of Jimin reminded you their intentions were anything but. “We can help you forget, baby. If that’s what you want?” Jimin’s words were like the sweet taste of Belladonna before you died. “All you have to do is let us know,” Tae spoke watching the entire thing with an amused look on his face.

           “Yes.”

           “Yes, what?”

           “Yes, please.”

#bts #yandere bts #yanderebts #bts x reader #bts au #yandere kim taehyung #yandere park jimin #jimin x taehyung #taehyung x reader #jimin x reader #yandere taehyung #yandere jimin #yandere kpop #bts fanfic #dark #girlmeetsliv3 #datura #datura prologue #kim taehyung #park jimin

[ombraventi]

Why have you returned here, ghost of my demise? [Challenge p6]

Words: 1897 Rating: T Warnings: violence, eye injury, mild body horror, blood tw

previous part || next part

He knew right away when Octavo moved to enter- his eyes were everywhere in the castle, watching everything that happened. Naturally, the halls were flooded with monsters- darknuts and stalfos were everywhere, but none were immune to the conductor’s curse. It was a shame, really- if only Octavo hadn’t betrayed him. They really did work so well together…

The person he’d once called a friend moved rather quickly to the throne room, though Vaati was certain to put an end to his little tricks once he moved inside. His baton would be yet again nothing more than a simple baton… if he wanted to fight, he’d have to use that stupid lute of his.

“Well well, you really want to die that badly? I must say, I’m impressed! So bold of you!”

“I won’t lose to the likes of you! I am the one who is going to save this city!”

“Oh, can it with your dramatics, ‘Tavo. You’re nothing more than a two-bit villain, who uses self-righteous justification to excuse taking over Hyrule. We’re no different.”

“Me, the same as you? Don’t make me laugh. I’m nothing like some horrid wind demon.”

“Demon, god… what’s really the difference? It’s only the light that people wish to paint me with… but I hardly care about anyone’s opinions on me.”

“You’re nothing more than a fool!”

“As are you, for standing against what I could give you. I could give you power, give you status, give you everything. And yet you stand here, like this.”

“I think you’ve misunderstood me then, if you think that’s what I care about!”

“I know far more about you than you’d ever think, ‘Tavo. I know about your powers, and I know who you are. And I know what you did- you honestly think that justifying your actions with ‘it was to stop Ganon’ will really excuse you? History sees you as a villain, my friend. A usurper, not a hero.”

“Tch- and you’re any different?”

“Yes- I embrace what I am. Perhaps I’m a monster, but at least I admit it! This world is my toy- I can do whatever I want to it!”

“And that’s why I’ll stop you! We don’t need a god like you!”

Vaati found himself laughing, but there wasn’t any joy to it. It was a sad, desperate sound- it only betrayed how far he was falling, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. His friends hated him, they didn’t even know him- why should it matter? Why should any of it matter?

“This entire world… is worthless. I’m going to… I’m going to destroy it, ‘Tavo. All of it. I’ll destroy it, then make a better one- don’t worry. Don’t worry at all. I promise, the next one will be better.”

His laughs echoed through the throne room as he threw out his hands, magic sparking from his fingertips and launching towards Octavo. There was no time to dodge, and yet the gust of wind never connected- Vaati just squinted in confusion, uncertain what was going on.

“The locket…”

Another gust of wind magic, intended to cut right through him like a blade- and yet again, it didn’t connect. In his anger, Vaati just screamed- he threw out a wave of lightning, which yet again refused to connect.

“What the hell?!”

“I see… so even against you, it protects me…”

“Wipe that damned smile off your face!”

He wanted nothing to do with Octavo’s quiet smugness, this time lashing out with a blaze of fire. That was enough to get the bard to dodge, singeing a bit of his hair- finally, something that worked. It was hardly his most preferred element, but… well, he’d make it work.

Fireball after fireball was launched at his former friend, the sound of Vaati’s laughter only met with the sound of music from Octavo’s golden lute. He’d wasted no time in beginning to strum as he danced about the battlefield, face darkening with concentration.

“What, do you think some stupid lute will stop me?”

“I think you’ll find this is no ordinary instrument. You may be surprised, Vaati.”

A chord on the lute seemed to send out a shockwave, knocking Vaati back. He gasped, more from shock than pain- how? How had he managed to make such a stupid little toy so effective?

“Behold the power of the fates, and the triforce of power!”

“Stupid… so stupid! Your damned rhythms are nothing to me!”

“Shout all you want, it won’t change things! I won’t lose, demon!”

“You… you… it doesn’t matter! None of it matters! Nothing you do can defeat me!”

The throne room quickly became a battlefield, vaati throwing his magic at Octavo only for it to be deflected back. Finally, he grew tired- he called forth a blade with his magic, shadows and madness taking form in his hand.

“You! You worthless traitor!! You, who pretended to be my friend!!! Of course it was a lie! Everything’s a lie!! Because there’s NO SUCH THING AS FRIENDS!!! Humans only exist to USE each other!!!”

“As if I would ever befriend the likes of you… I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”

“It doesn’t matter- none of it matters! NONE OF IT MATTERS!”

“You’re insane!”

“I DON’T CARE!”

Words were meaningless, and both of them knew it. Vaati didn’t bother continuing to talk, though his heart was aching with words unsaid. His magic continued to fly, the sound of his sword scraping against the marble floors echoing throughout the grand hall- but finally, Vaati was knocked to the ground, staring up into the utterly cold look on Octavo’s face.

“You lose, demon.”

“No… No, I can’t lose. I won’t lose. I don’t care what it costs… I won’t lose.”

What he looked like didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. This world had no point, no purpose, no anything- he didn’t care.

And so, the last of what made him finally broke.

His body started to warp, his darkness and madness completely overwhelming him. He was hate, he was hurt, he was loneliness. His body and mind were his suffering, his pain, it was all that he was anymore. Vaati was gone.

All he was now, was Wrath.

The demon let out a horrid scream when his form finally came solid once more, giant eye staring down at Octavo. He was hate. He was anger. He was wrath. He was emotion made physical, logic and reason had no more meaning- he just wanted these horrid painful feelings of his to go away.

« E V E R Y T H I N G  C A N   D I S A P P E A R »

“How vile- you truly are a demon! To think… one such as you could truly exist…”

Octavo reeled back in disgust, but Wrath found that he couldn’t be upset about it. Everything already hurt too much- taking offense from one particular thing was beyond him now. It wasn’t possible.

« T H I S  W O R L D  I S  M I N E »

He didn’t know if Octavo could understand him. He was emotion, not logic- it didn’t matter. All that mattered was destroying him, destroying everything. He needed to end it. He needed to make a better world. A world where none of this had happened. A world where things would be better. His perfect world, where he could really have everything he wanted.

A world that would never exist.

« J U S T   D I S A P P E A R   A L R E A D Y »

He was taking hits. He didn’t know how, or why, but he was. Wrath would scream in pain with each one, though he had no mouth- it was a sound like a horrible roar, that came from deep within himself. It was a horrid noise, a deafening sound- and it kept happening.

Over.

And over.

And over again.

Was he going to die?

No, because he wasn’t allowed.

His eye hurt. Octavo kept hitting it, tearing it to pieces with his lute’s magic- did he know? Did he know that it hurt?

“Stop, please… please, ‘Tavo… it hurts… my eye… I can’t… it hurts so much…”

His voice couldn’t be heard- he didn’t even know if he could hear it. Was he even speaking? No- he had no mouth. It was just thoughts, words that would never leave.

“P-Please… I’m sorry… it hurts… it hurts so much… I know I made a mistake…”

Was this him? Was this even him? He didn’t know anymore. He wasn’t sure he could know anymore. It felt like him, but it didn’t- perhaps it was him in the past? He didn’t think he could feel guilt anymore, he doubted he had room in his heart for regret. And did it matter? He was pain. He was hate. He was sadness. He was anger. He was fear. He was Wrath.

“W-Will I… ever be able to see from it…?”

“Maybe, Vaati… I can’t say for certain, but your eye wasn’t damaged beyond saving. So there’s still a chance.”

“I-I’m sorry…”

“It was just a mistake… we learn from them.”

“It hurts…”

It hurt…. It hurt so much…

« I T  H U R T S . . . »

With one final slash, Wrath fell. The scream that flooded the room was horrid- it was inhuman and pained, an awful noise that bubbled up from his very soul. But finally he was defeated, he was done- Vaati lay on the ground in his small, hylian self- he was clutching desperately at his right eye, trying to feel anything besides the horrible pain from it, trying to stop the awful bleeding that was coming from the socket. Did he even have an eye there anymore? He didn’t know, and it hurt too much to check.

“Hah… I see then. So that’s your true self… what you really look like.”

Vaati looked up at Octavo, unable to tear his eye from the complete and utter coldness on Octavo’s face.

“Fine then… I lose. Just… make it quick… I can’t… I can’t keep doing this…”

It hurt. It hurt to see the hate on his friend’s face. It hurt to know that he’d done this of his own free will, and he’d do it again and again and again, because that was the sort of person he was. He was the sort who’d ruin his own life a million times over, all for that chance- that chance to be something that he knew deep down he would never have.

Too stubborn to accept what he was. What he’d done.

Someday, he’d diminish to nothing.

He’d always be nothing more than a rat, whose greatest sin was daring to dream above his station.

“You… you’re pathetic.”

“Hah… I guess so…”

Octavo’s eyes just narrowed, shaking his head and stepping back.

“I’m not giving you that. You can live with how pathetic you are, knowing that you’ll never win. Not even immortality can help you. Your true legacy will be your shame.”

“’Tavo… please… please, don’t, I…” he didn’t care that his voice shook, he didn’t care how weak he looked or sounded. “I-I…. I can’t be alone… not like that… please, ‘Tavo… don’t just leave…”

“If you wanted friends, you should’ve thought of that sooner.”

“N-No… please… please, don’t…”

But his words had no effect- Octavo turned and left the throne room, leaving Vaati completely and utterly alone.

#drabbles #supergiant challenge #; 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 { CHALLENGE } #malevolute #violence tw #eye injury tw #eye trauma tw #eye horror #blood tw #bleeding tw #injury tw

[believerindaydreams]

under blue moon

oh look it’s another bit out of order. 

(may possibly get edited depending on the opinion of Syb who Doth Write Blondeyes with far more intensity than I do.)

this bit is from during Lent, before the Bus Trip of Doom. Our trio have taken up poetry sessions at the gatehouse- and somebody else is listening.

The memory shames Wallace even now, the way he and Joseph decided their lives back then. A scapular, one side brown homespun and the other the image of a saint, is less worldly than a coin; but they’d been gambling all the same. He has trouble crediting that he could ever have been so flighty. 

Reckons it best, not to admit to himself that he still might be- in ordinary time. 

This is not ordinary time. This is Lent, season of abstinence and strange sorrows, the time of year when the church’s blessed tide recedes, to expose the barren pagan world beneath. Father Paul dedicates this season to traveling, seeking reluctant converts for their flock; because now is when men reflect on their sins. 

Only Father Paul is not traveling this year, because of that- impertinence- of a brother of his, who came to visit for a day and has stayed for months. Accompanied by Joseph, gentle and distraught in his sorrows. Accompanied also, by a spirit that chose with careful precision, the moment to make itself manifest....

it is hard to credit that man as flesh and blood. 

To say that their monastery (this pit of unshriven sins, by guttering half-light)  has brought this fate upon itself would be a certain kind of blasphemy. To remain unmoved by this creature would be a rather worse one, Wallace can’t help feeling. 

He roams through the cloisters at night, disturbing the cats. 

He knows Latin better than any man here- excepting Father Paul, perhaps.

He had claimed for himself a portion of their sanctuary, carved out a worldliness in this place where there should be no such thing; thus reminding the flock that such things are, laying temptation in their path, in allways being most sly, and subtle, and cautious in his efforts...if the intent is not the breaking up of their flock, Wallace cannot imagine what else Angel Eyes might crave; and even if not, he’d bear watching. 

All of which is very poor philosophy indeed, to justify the way he has stolen away from evening prayer to spy on a guest, from the gatehouse attic. The passage out lies open and waiting. He might retreat at any moment, but chooses not to. 

“Turning and turning, in the widening gyre,” Angel Eyes reads. 

In this he is also unlike other men; his voice does not change to a carrying, artificial tone but remains serenely conversational. Wallace has become aware of its permutations, its inflections and digressions, is unable to listen without comparison to his multifold experience of priests and recitations. If it were a matter solely of the voice, he should have to consider it as fine a one as ever he’s heard. 

Joseph prefers not to read, for all his early promise as a speaker, and as for Benedict- Benedict has the sense not to read poetry, at least. His virtues may be strictly of the negative variety, but they do exist, as Christian charity requires him to acknowledge.

“He’s fallen asleep,” Joseph says. The peephole is small, but sufficient for him to see the man resting on the sofa beneath, the other who reaches for him with eager hands- 

and the third, who knocks Joseph back with his fist without missing a syllable. “The falcon cannot hear the falconer.”

“Well, he ought to be listening,” Joseph says very sullenly, not moving from the floor. 

“Things fall apart. The centre cannot hold,” Angel says. The book in his hand is a fine handsome edition, handcut pages and a heavy binding. Not quite the life of restraint promised to Father Paul, this gatehouse. 

“If I was that rude, you’d have it in for me.”

“Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world...the blood-dimmed tide is loosed-”

“Why do you let him get away with everything?” Joseph asks. “That new bag, your blasphemous little suppers, all the rest of it.”

A quiet, warm and ungodly smile warms Wallace then: a story he recognises, one that he’s heard before. Not the prodigal son, but the man’s brother.

“And everywhere, the ceremony of innocence is drowned...”

He doesn’t catch Joseph’s next interruption; the man’s lowered his voice, almost as if he expects an unseen listener. 

“The best lack all conviction...”

That must be more poetry, rather than a response. Joseph pulls himself close to the chair where Angel sits, to lean his head against the other man’s knee. 

Provoking no reaction whatsoever. “While the worst, are full of passionate intensity.”

“Passion we have by the truckload,” Joseph growls. “It’s everything else that’s the problem, always has been.” 

“Surely some revelation is at hand...” Angel continues, unperturbed. 

“Like hell there is. I’m leaving after Easter.”

And finally, finally, Angel closes the book. Marking it first with a ribbon, very deliberately. 

“Are you?” he asks- and that is not in a light, conversational tone at all, but something that draws on moonless nights and the isolation of nightmare for its power. “Well, you’ve done that before.“

“I mean for good this time. Finished the con, kept my promise-” Joseph laughs, a trifle hysterically. “He’s been hanging around my neck for years, I couldn’t get rid of him. I promised I’d see him safe first, you understand? And now I’ve done it and you’ve got him and I wish to God I hadn’t, but he’s yours now. I can get back on the road, like I always meant to.“

Angel picks up the dark gloves on his lap, pulls them on his hands with a deliberate lack of hurry or concern. “Six months, Blondie. Six months when I thought you wanted me, how indifferent were you?”

“Not half as much as you thought I was,” Joseph says, abruptly calm. The answer seems to surprise Angel too; he stops, a glove half on. “Inside of a month, I knew- I wanted you for you. Selfishly. I didn’t want my partner in on it, nothing you could have done would have driven me away- well, you know it didn’t.“

“And you left without a word,” Angel says. “I chose not to ask you why. I’m not asking now.”

It would, perhaps, be a statement of great poignancy and self-denial, as seen from below- such as from Joseph’s position. From up here, Wallace can make out no expression on Angel’s features, only the top-down view of a nose and thinning hair; and a reluctant compassion enters his heart. The man’s only a man, after all. 

(Perhaps God, looking from above, finds it equally simple to distribute forgiveness; but this is hardly a perspective he’ll suggest at prayer study.)

“Tuco needed me. I knew- I knew that if I said I had to leave, that I cared about somebody so much that I’d risk us just to save him, that you’d insist on coming along. Helping. Cutting me out, maybe, or...he was in New Orleans,“ Joseph says. “Not the picturesque part, some godless subdivision on the outskirts. The liveliest man I’ve ever met, and he honestly thought that stuffing ten pounds of joy into a five pound sack would be good for him. I’d have felt better if they’d been kicking him out of a rathole.”

“I wouldn’t.”

Joseph exhales. “Tuco’s like me, a crisis just makes him mad. Mad gives you something to work with. It’s the in-between times that wear the heart down...so I took care of him, I got him back on the road, and then I was stuck again! And frankly the hustle was getting worse and worse- it’s damned hard on him, I know that. You remember what he was like the first night you met him, all turquoise and big hats and comedy foreigner- and that was toned down, because I told him Carson was the classy sort. It got a lot worse than that.”

Wallace dearly wishes he could see better, what was happening; the way the chair creaks back suggests that Angel Eyes finds this line of inquiry none too reassuring. 

“How is his poker? Professionally speaking- I wasn’t paying the closest attention to him that night, you understand.“

“Not that great. Better at reading people than I am, but his betting’s terrible. No, we were going to have to find something else to do sooner or later, and I didn’t want to come ask you for help. Not just because I was being selfish, either. I knew what you were. I didn’t want to expose him to that...” Joseph trails off. “It’s a fucking strange sort of innocence he’s got, have you noticed? Like he expects the entire world to want him dead in a ditch, but he doesn’t see why that should embitter him any. It’s worth protecting.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Well, good....”

“So what made you change your mind, in the end?”

Why Joseph begins to laugh, then, is a mystery to Wallace; but then, so’s most of this conversation. “For one thing, because I missed you- but you wouldn’t be satisfied with that answer, would you? I wouldn’t either. Because I missed you, because I wasn’t inhumane enough to keep us going through hell when I knew we had another choice, not when we were sleeping in the car every night and didn’t know where our next meal was coming from...that’s the thing about saintliness, if you’re alone it’s virtuous. If anyone’s depending on you, it’s just plain sadism.”

“And you fancy yourself as a saint.” Angel Eyes is, Wallace is positive, smirking something rotten. 

Joseph stands up then, with a martyr’s contentment. “I’d like to. And without you two around, maybe I’ll manage it. You’re planning to stay on here, aren’t you? Make soup, love Tuco, not do anything that’d get him in trouble?”

“That was the general idea, yes...of course, I did throw away my entire fortune on your behalf, retire from a line of business I happen to have excelled at, and have come to the conclusion you’re an absolute and arrant coward. But you needn’t worry that I’m going anywhere. Tuco’s certainly going to need support, once you abandon him.”

“It’s not the way you think.”

“I don’t care what you make of my opinion, it’s what Tuco thinks- and keeping him from chasing after your worthless hide is going to be a job and a half, have you thought of that?”

“No. He knows that I need to do this sometimes, he’ll be fine...and by the time he realises I’m not coming back, he won’t want to follow me anymore. You’ll take care of that much, I’m giving you every opportunity.”

Angel Eyes reaches out, picks up a pipe; Wallace wrinkles his nose at the unpleasant smell. “The exasperating part of all this is, you assume I’ll do anything to keep him by my side- and the worst of that is, you’re right.”

“You two are good together. Better than I ever was for him.”

“Planning to even give him the choice, before you go?”��

“Of course I am. Benedict?”

There is a long, long silence during which nothing happens at all; then Angel Eyes begins to laugh. It’s zesty, heartfelt, not an uncanny demon’s voice. 

He would, Wallace decides, have preferred a demon voice.

“Benedict,” Joseph says, laying a hand on the sofa; but not going near, not touching him at all. “I don’t understand. This has always worked before.”

“He sleeps better these days,” Angel says, still chuckling. “Not nearly so jumpy anymore- haven’t you noticed?” 

He reaches out and pulls a pack towards him. Settles it on his lap. The action means nothing to Wallace. 

It apparently means something to Joseph, though; there’s a petulant, almost childish whine in his voice. “That’s not fair.”

“No. It isn’t.”

Joseph bangs the door, as he goes out; Benedict stirs. “Blondie? Hey- where’d he- I guess I fell asleep again, huh?”

“Understandably. Yeats has that effect on many people.” 

“Oh, but I was trying this time- they were short, I understood them. Maybe too well, that one about the mask. But at least we have the place to ourselves now-”

Wallace decides to leave, then. Fascinating as this story is, his demon has no plans to wreck this sanctuary; so he doesn’t need to hear any more. 

The satisfying weight of the rosary in his pocket helps to soothe his spirit; he welcomes in the calm, as he begins the brief familiar prayers. For Joseph’s sake, he decides.

Scapular. Joseph had flipped it, told him to call. He’d won and chosen Paul.

”You’re an idiot. Paul’s never going to fuck you or anyone else, he’s about as holy as they come. Tuco’s much better fun.”

”That’s what I love about him,” Wallace had said. “That purity. That committed celibacy...it’ll keep me holy too, living up to his standards.” 

And given all that’s happened to Joseph since, he can’t help feeling that virtue’s proved its own reward.

#70s au #the good the bad and the ugly #I've gone with Joe as Blondie's legal name #cos Wallace is hardly going to think of him as Blondie #catholic #too much listening to Echo and the Bunnymen #oh tags

[liketolaugh-writes]

[Context: Sebastian is a LetsPlayer in modern times. He is still a demon and the events of Kuroshitsuji happened over a hundred years ago as appropriate. He does not currently have a master, having finished with his last some five to ten years ago. Because he enjoys human pastimes on occasion, he decided to amuse himself with this for a while. It’s set in the Marvel universe, insofar as metas are known to exist and he is known as a lightly closeted one. He is currently playing Undertale, and because of who he is as a person, has accidentally stumbled onto the Genocide route on his first playthrough.]

The character avatar walks down the purple hallway. In the top-left corner, Sebastian’s brows are furrowed. He looks unsettled, but is attempting to appear merely bored.

Sebastian: This is quite an unusual take on an RPG game, I’ll admit. I’ve never encountered one that attempted to make me feel guilty for progressing before. Toriel’s last words in particular were… well. I expect this is going to be quite an interesting letsplay.

The avatar reaches the hallway exit and goes through. On the other side, Flowey is sitting in a spotlight.

Sebastian: Oh, it’s you again. Now, you, I would not feel bad for killing at all.

Flowey: Hahaha… You’re not really human, are you?

Sebastian’s eyebrows lift as he reads the dialogue. For a moment, he looks amused.

Flowey: No. You’re empty inside. Just like me. In fact… You’re Ciel, right? We’re still inseparable, after all these years…

Sebastian’s brows furrow, and he pauses in reading the dialogue.

Sebastian: That’s an interesting plot twist, this early in the game. I thought I’d just fallen down. Perhaps I have escaped the Underground before? But then, why is it that I fell in again? To take revenge?

Flowey: Listen. I have a plan to become all powerful. Even more powerful than you and your stolen soul.

Sebastian scowls, but does not remark on the dialogue.

Flowey: Let’s destroy everything in this wretched world. Everyone, everything in these worthless memories. Let’s turn ‘em all to dust.

Flowey [computer-generated voice]: That’s a wonderful idea!

Flowey disappears into the ground, and Sebastian continues to frown at the screen. His scowl has eased.

Sebastian: That was… odd. This game is obviously not what it first appears. Is that my goal, then? To conquer the Underground? It seems frivolous and unnecessary, but it’s quite the take on the traditional RPG mechanic of slaughtering everything you come across.

The avatar begins to move forward again and soon encounters the door out.

The screen fades to black and then displays the title screen, UNDERTALE. It then switches to By Toby Fox, and then to black. Sebastian smiles.

Sebastian: As I said, quite an interesting game. I’m looking forward to continuing it. I expect it has some interesting lessons to teach, and perhaps some remarks on human nature as well. It’s a surprising contrast with the rather cute aesthetic.

Sebastian chuckles, and as the screen reforms on a snowy forest, the avatar begins walking right, and then pauses and interacts with the bush nearby.

[…!? There’s a camera hidden in the bushes.]

Sebastian: …Interesting.

The avatar continues right. The avatar passes a branch, and a handful of steps after the avatar passes, it breaks unexpectedly. Sebastian rolls his eyes.

Sebastian: The music is appropriately ominous for such a setting. I do hope I have an encounter worthy of it soon.

The avatar starts to cross a bridge, and then stops on the left edge. A shadow begins to approach from where the avatar came from.

Sebastian: Speak of the devil.

Sebastian chooses a creaky, deep voice for the new character.

?: H u m a n.

The avatar turns around. The shadow sticks out its hand, and the avatar takes it. The shadow is suddenly lit, revealing itself to be a grinning skeleton in a blue hoodie, and a fart sound plays. Sebastian snorts, visibly surprised.

Sebastian: Well, that was rather anticlimactic.

?: heheh… the old whoopee cushion in the hand trick. it’s ALWAYS funny.

Despite the change of font, Sebastian sticks with the original voice, raising one eyebrow and smiling in obvious amusement.

?: …that’s, uh. your cue to laugh. or, uh, to emote at all…?

Sebastian chuckles again.

Sebastian: They really are pushing the inhumanity of this character, aren’t they? They ought to be careful not to go heavy-handed, but it’s amusing as it is, and somewhat unsettling as intended.

?: …(gee, lady, you really know how to pick ‘em, huh…?) OK, that’s fine. everyone’s got their own sense of humor. i’m sans. sans the skeleton. im actually supposed to be on watch for humans right now. but… you know… i dont really care about capturing anybody.

Sebastian grins.

Sebastian: Perhaps you should, Mr. Skeleton. It looks like letting this one go will be bad for your health.

Sans: now my brother, papyrus… he’s a human-hunting FANATIC.

Sebastian: Ah, so is that the interesting battle I’m promised? Or- no. No, given the nature of the last boss, I don’t suppose any of these bosses are going to be truly terrible people. Hm. Does that mean I won’t be able to dispose of Flowey?

Sans: hey, actually, I think that’s him over there.

Sebastian: Another boss battle already? That seems unlikely, so I suppose this Sans character is going to help me as well.

Sans: i have an idea. go through this gate thingy. yeah, go right through. my bro made the bars too wide to stop anyone.

Sebastian chuckles, head dipping as he smirks. The avatar and Sans rush right, quickly arriving at a small area containing a lamp shaped precisely like the profile view of the avatar, two rocks, and a shop stand.

Sans: quick, behind that conveniently-shaped lamp.

The avatar does not move. Sebastian raises his eyebrows.

Sans: …uh, okay, i guess you don’t have to.

Sebastian [softly]: …Strange.

From the right, a tall skeleton in red zooms in, stopping in front of Sans and the avatar. Sebastian chooses a high, crackly voice for this character.

Papyrus: SANS!!! HAVE YOU FOUND A HUMAN YET!??!

Sans: yeah

Sebastian: From any other game I would expect betrayal, but…

Papyrus: REALLY!?!? WOWIE!!!

Sebastian: Goodness, two lines and I already cannot wait for this character to be gone.

Papyrus: GUESS THAT’S SETTLED!!

The skeleton leaves out the right side. Sebastian snorts.

Sebastian: My wish has been granted.

Sans: that worked out, huh?

The avatar wanders around the screen and interacts with the lamp.

[Just a conveniently-shaped lamp.]

Sebastian chuckles.

Sebastian: I’ll admit, this game is quite funny when it isn’t resorting to bodily humor.

The avatar moves to the stand and interacts.

[It’s some sort of checkpoint or sentry-station. But there are bottles of ketchup, mustard, and relish sitting inside…]

Sebastian: I hope they don’t belong to the skeletons. I imagine that would be quite messy, and what a waste.

The avatar begins to move right but is stopped at the exit.

Sans: well, i’ll be straight-forward with you. my brother’d really like to see a human… so, y’know, it’d really help me out… if you kept pretending to be one.

Sebastian pauses, staring at the screen with an unreadable expression as Sans exits left.

Sebastian: Again with this, hm…? If not a human, then I wonder what I’m meant to be.

Sebastian smiles.

Sebastian: Perhaps a demon? Well, I suppose I’ll find out in time. …If I find out that the playable character is a metahuman, however, I’m going to be deeply disappointed in not only the game’s creator, but also every person who recommended this game to me. That would be an utterly pathetic plot twist.

The avatar exits right, and the approaches the nearby sparkling save point.

[16 Left]

Sebastian: Quite handy. But why is the text red…?

The avatar explores the area for a while, and then encounters a monster. The monster is identified as Snowdrake.

[Snowdrake flutters forth!]

Sebastian: Though I may come to regret it, given the odd ‘but nobody came’ encounters, I believe I’ll handle all of these now. I’ll clip in the images and dialogue of each new monster, however – for your amusement, yes?

The screen skips through several images without remark and resettles on the same stretch of path.

Sebastian: That didn’t take too long, did it?

Sebastian smiles.

Sebastian: Now we can progress the story without interference. I could do without the skeleton characters, myself, but they’re a necessary evil. Never mind- they’ll be gone soon enough.

Sebastian laughs, and the avatar exits right.

Sebastian: I did explore the top path, but there was nothing of interest. Ah, here we are.

Papyrus: SO SANS! WHEN’S THE HUMAN SHOWING UP???

Sebastian: Mr. Papyrus’ enthusiasm is amusing, but I’ve known enough people like him to be quite glad that his dialogue is text-only. Goodness knows how loud it would be.

Papyrus: I WANT TO LOOK MY SUNDAY BEST… OR AT LEAST MY TUESDAY PRETTY-GOOD.

Sebastian laughs again and shakes his head slightly.

Sebastian: A game with a sense of humor more sophisticated than a grade schooler, what a rarity.

Sans: don’t you only have one outfit?

Papyrus: YEAH, BUT I COULD STYLE MY HAIR!

Sebastian covers his mouth with the back of his hand. He is grinning, and his eyes glitter with amusement.

Sans: oh. right. good idea. say, why don’t you look over there?

Papyrus looks at the avatar. An exclamation mark appears briefly over his head. He turns back at Sans, who turns to the human, and then back to the human, while Sans looks back at Papyrus. This process repeats itself several times, rapidly speeding up, and Sebastian lowers his hand to smile in open amusement. Eventually, both skeletons stop, and then turn right.

Papyrus: SANS!!! OH MY GOD!!!!

Sebastian: That is entirely too many exclamation points, and I can picture the volume perfectly.

Papyrus: I’M DIZZY. WHAT AM I LOOKING AT?

Sebastian snorts, apparently caught by surprise.

Sans: behold.

Sans turns to his brother. The screen pans left to center on the avatar and reveal a rock.

Papyrus: OH MY GOD!!!

The screen shunts right again as Papyrus turns back to Sans.

Papyrus: WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME TO LOOK AT A ROCK.

Sebastian closes his eyes and covers his mouth with a gloved hand. A muffled snort escapes anyway and the corners of his eyes are crinkled. After a second, he removes his hand and shakes his head.

Sebastian: This game is entirely too much.

Sans turns back to the avatar.

Sans: hey, what’s that in front of the rock?

An exclamation mark appears above Papyrus’ head.

Papyrus: OH MY GOD!!!

Sebastian takes a deep breath.

Papyrus: I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT THAT IS.

Sebastian lets it out in a huff, closes his eyes, and tilts his head back briefly. After two seconds, he opens them again, and then continues without comment.

Sans: well. it’s not a rock.

Sebastian: A pair of geniuses, these two.

Papyrus: NOT A ROCK…? OH NO!!! BY PROCESS OF ELIMINATION!!! THAT MEANS IT’S A HUMAN!!!

Sebastian closes his eyes again, presses his palm to a forehead, and for a moment, laughs helplessly, quiet and breathy.

Sebastian: What an imbecile.

Sebastian opens his eyes and continues on, shaking his head.

Papyrus: AHEM!! HUMAN!! PREPARE YOURSELF!! FOR HIGH JINKS! FOR LOW JINKS! DANGERS! PUZZLES! CAPERS! JAPERS! BEING CAPTURED!! AND OTHER SORTS OF FUN ACTIVITIES.

Sebastian rolls his eyes.

Sebastian: If I have any say in the matter, I will not be participating in a single one of those things, Mr. Skeleton. Particularly not with someone as obviously loud as yourself – my ears hurt and you’re not even speaking aloud.

Papyrus: REFRESHMENTS WILL BE PROVIDED… IF YOU DARE! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!!!

Sebastian wrinkles his nose as Papyrus exits right.

Sebastian: Is that his laugh? How awful. I shall give him as little cause to do that as possible.

Sans turns to the avatar.

Sans: …and you don’t even bat an eye, huh?

Sans exits right.

Sebastian: Well, I wouldn’t want to give that moron any form of encouragement. That’s your job, is it not? Really, this Sans character is… quite suspicious, I’d say. Though not as suspicious as the playable character, naturally… Given that they seem to be on a warpath. Now, let’s see-

The avatar moves right and interacts with the stand nearby.

[There’s some narration on this cardboard box.]

[YOU OBSERVE THE WELL-CRAFTED SENTRY STATION. WHO COULD HAVE BUILT THIS, YOU PONDER… I BET IT WAS THAT VERY FAMOUS ROYAL GUARDSMAN!]

Sebastian rolls his eyes again and sighs, muttering something inaudible before speaking.

Sebastian: Goodness, he does get into everything, doesn’t he? And self-congratulatory, too. I’d bet anything he isn’t a royal guardsman at all.

[(NOTE: NOT YET A VERY FAMOUS ROYAL GUARDSMAN.)]

Sebastian pinches the bridge of his nose.

Sebastian: Ridding the Underground of this idiot will be a service.

The avatar moves right. An encounter appears.

[but nobody came.]

Sebastian: Ah yes, there it is. Very ominous… the first few times, at least.

The avatar continues right and crosses into the path of another station, this one sporting a bell. When the avatar reaches it, a dog emerges from behind the counter.

?: D-did something move? Was it my imagination? I can only see moving things. …hey! I can’t stop shivering all of a sudden. …Who’s there!?

An encounter overtakes the screen.

[Doggo blocks the way!]

Sebastian: Why would you announce your biggest weakness to the world immediately before initiating a fight? Really, now… I’ll take many things at face value in a PC game, but some of these habits are simply absurd.

Sebastian continues to mutter as the fight progresses, looking bored. Doggo is easily defeated, and the avatar moves on, exiting right.

Sebastian: I might have been more sympathetic if it had been a cat. Of course, a cat likely wouldn’t have announced its only weakness so easily, hm?

The avatar continues to travel.

[but nobody came.]

[but nobody came.]

[but nobody came.]

Sebastian: Yes, yes, I understand, everyone is dead. I am aware of that. I actually made that happen. It doesn’t appear to have decreased the amount of trouble I go to just to move, unfortunately.

The avatar reaches an intersection, pauses briefly, and exits top. A snowman appears onscreen and the avatar approaches and interacts with it.

?: Hello. I am a snowman. I cannot move. Traveller, if you could…

[(You got the Snowman Piece.)]

Sebastian: Well, that was simple foolishness.

Sebastian checks the Snowman Piece in his inventory.

[“Snowman Piece” – Heals 45 HP. Please take this to the ends of the earth.]

Sebastian smirks with too many teeth.

Sebastian: 45 HP, hm? I think I’d like more of that, if at all possible.

The avatar interacts with the Snowman again.

Snowman: Oh me, oh my. What are you doing? Soon there won’t be any of me left…

Sebastian: I’m taking your flesh for sustenance, isn’t it obvious?

[(You got the Snowman Piece.)]

The Snowman shrinks dramatically. Sebastian smirks, and the avatar interacts with the Snowman again.

Snowman: Stop… Please…

The Snowman collapses into a small puddle of snow. Sebastian chuckles, raising an eyebrow.

Sebastian: Well, what did you expect, giving pieces of yourself to a stranger? Quite foolish, as I said. You should never give of yourself, really – even those you trust can easily turn their backs on you.

The avatar interacts with the pile of snow again.

[A useless pile of snow.]

Sebastian: Only three, then. Well, that’s quite enough to be getting on with. I won’t need that many, with a small amount of luck and a fair bit of skill. And I like to think I have both in spades, don’t you?

The avatar exits bottom, and heads toward the right exit. An encounter spawns.

[but nobody came.]

Sebastian pauses, frowning.

Sebastian: …An interesting choice of mechanic.

Sebastian ends the encounter and the avatar exits right. Sans and Papyrus are waiting by a bridge on the other side.

Papyrus: YOU’RE SO LAZY!! YOU WERE NAPPING ALL NIGHT!!

Sans: i think that’s called… sleeping.

Sebastian: Regretfully, I’m actually on Mr. Papyrus’ side on this one.

Papyrus: EXCUSES, EXCUSES!

Sans and Papyrus turn to look at the avatar.

Papyrus: OH- HO! THE HUMAN ARRIVES! IN ORDER TO STOP YOU… MY BROTHER AND I HAVE CREATED SOME PUZZLES!

Sebastian rolls his eyes.

Sebastian: Well, at least they bothered to come up with an in-universe reason for gratuitous puzzle-solving, I suppose. Once again, that’s better than most games do.

Papyrus: I THINK YOU WILL FIND THIS ONE… QUITE SHOCKING!!!

The avatar starts to walk across the patch of bare ground, and Sebastian blinks, and then frowns, and then laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amusement.

Sebastian: I think I could get along with this character.

Papyrus: FOR YOU SEE, THIS IS… THE, INVISIBLE… UHHHHHHH…?

Sebastian: Yes, Mr. Skeleton, not everyone is willing to play along with your foolish and pointless antics. I see this character’s attitude is going to save me quite a bit of time.

Sebastian actually looks slightly put-out by the notion.

Papyrus: HMMM… YOU MUST BE HAVING CULTURE SHOCK. YOU SEE, WHERE I COME FROM, IT’S A LOVING TRADITION. TO SUFFER THROUGH HORRIBLE PUZZLES FOR NO REASON.

Sebastian sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

Sebastian: This feels oddly familiar, for some reason… Though of course, as the playable character is the one visiting here, they are indeed being rather rude. It saves me time, but not that much time, I suspect.

The avatar continues to approach the skeletons.

Papyrus: SO, UH, JUST WALK BACK THERE, AND…

The avatar does not move. Both skeletons turn south.

Papyrus: SIGH… WHY COULDN’T WE GET A HUMAN THAT LIKES PUZZLES???

Papyrus exits right.

Sebastian: My amusement at the character’s attitude aside, I would have preferred to be allowed to play the puzzles as I wished. They are a fundamental part of this sort of game, after all.

The avatar moves towards Sans and interacts.

Sans: it would make my brother happy if you played along.

Sebastian: Surprisingly, that is not my primary concern.

The avatar exits right, crosses the bridge on the other side, and passes by several trees and a snowball.

Sebastian: I’ve said it a few times already, but I’m continually fascinated by many of the stylistic choices this game makes. They all seem to be geared in a certain direction, but I’m not sure I understand what they’re trying to say as yet. I assume I will later.

The avatar exits top right, walks past both doghouses, and then returns left. Sebastian grimaces.

Sebastian: Dogs.

Eventually, the avatar exits bottom-right and emerges with the two skeletons again, and a piece of paper on the ground to their left.

Papyrus: HUMAN!!! I HOPE YOU’RE READY FOR… SANS!! WHERE’S THE PUZZLE!!!

Sebastian: At this stage, what on earth makes him think I would complete a puzzle?

Sans: it’s right there. on the ground.

Sebastian: Somehow, I’m not surprised in the least.

Sans: trust me. there’s no way they’ll skip this one.

The avatar walks past the piece of paper. Sebastian looks pained.

Papyrus: SANS!!! THAT DID NOTHING!!!

Sans: whoops. knew i should have put down junior jumble instead.

Sebastian: Oh yes, I certainly would have been far more interested in that, rather than- whatever it is that’s on the ground there.

Papyrus: WHAT?!? JUNIOR JUMBLE!? FINALLY, SOMETHING WE CAN BOTH AGREE ON.

Papyrus exits right. The avatar moves to interact with Sans.

Sans: guess you don’t like word searches, huh? me neither. i’m more of a funny pages kinda guy.

Sebastian: Of course you are. They share your high-brow sense of humor, Mr. Skeleton.

The avatar exits right, finding a piece of paper, a table with spaghetti on top, and a microwave. The top wall has a small mouse hole. Sebastian smirks and the avatar goes to interact with the piece of paper.

[It’s a note from Papyrus…]

[HUMAN!! PLEASE ENJOY THIS SPAGHETTI. (LITTLE DO YOU KNOW, THIS SPAGHETTI IS A TRAP… DESIGNED TO ENTICE YOU!!! YOU’LL BE SO BUSY EATING IT… THAT YOU WON’T REALIZE THAT YOU AREN’T PROGRESSING!! THOROUGHLY JAPED AGAIN BY THE GREAT PAPYRUS!!! NYEH-HEH-HEH, PAPYRUS)]

Sebastian chuckles.

Sebastian: Not much of an antagonist… or a human-hunter. And that laugh is still awful.

The avatar interacts with the save point, the spaghetti, and the microwave.

[10 left.]

[(It’s a plate of frozen spaghetti. It’s so cold, it’s stuck to the table…)]

[(It’s an unplugged microwave. All of the settings say “spaghetti.”)]

Sebastian rolls his eyes.

Sebastian: Idiot.

The avatar continues on until it reaches two dogs, which come up from the south exit.

?: What’s that smell? (Where’s that smell?) If you’re a smell… (…Identify yoursmellf!)

The two dogs wander the screen around the avatar for a few seconds before converging on it.

?: Hmmm… Here’s that weird smell… It makes me want to eliminate… (…Eliminate YOU!)

An encounter triggers.

Sebastian: God, when will I escape the dogs?

[Dogi assault you!]

Sebastian: The story of my life.

Sebastian swiftly kills Dogaressa, and then the depressed Dogamy.

Sebastian: When will I be free from the dogs…

The avatar continues to make progress, and passes by what appears to be a completed puzzle. Sebastian looks put-out again.

Sebastian: I actually would like to complete a puzzle at some point, please!

The avatar exits right, finding a grayscale board with Papyrus and Sans on the right side, standing by a machine.

Papyrus: HEY! IT’S THE HUMAN! YOU’RE GONNA LOVE THIS PUZZLE!

The avatar starts to cross the board, and Sebastian sighs, a look of resignation on his face as the avatar stops halfway across.

Sebastian: This is getting rather annoying.

Papyrus: IT WAS MADE BY THE GREAT… ARE YOU SERIOUS? SANS!!! HELP!!!

A flicker of a smile crosses Sebastian’s face. He does not explain this.

Papyrus: THEY KEEP WALKING THROUGH MY PUZZLES! THEY’RE SUPPOSED TO LET ME EXPLAIN THEM. THEN THREATEN AND BAFFLE THEM WITH DANGEROUS JAPES.

Sebastian looks exasperatedly amused.

Sebastian: This character could not be less threatening if he wasn’t a skeleton. He can do as he likes, of course, but…

Sans: well, maybe they don’t like japes.

Papyrus: EVERYONE LIKES JAPES!!!

Sans: what about undyne? doesn’t she hate puzzles?

Papyrus: SHE HATES PUZZLES. BUT SHE LOVES JAPES.

Sebastian: The distinction is vital, of course- though I couldn’t tell you what it is.

Sans: that makes sense.

Papyrus: HUMAN!! WHAT DO YOU THINK!? PUZZLES OR JAPES? … … OKAY, THIS IS NORMALLY THE PART. WHERE YOU EITHER AGREE OR DISAGREE. AND DEPENDING ON YOUR ANSWER. WE SAY SOMETHING GREAT IN RESPONSE. …HERE, WHY DON’T YOU DO THIS PUZZLE YOURSELF.

Papyrus leaves a piece of paper on the ground and slowly exits right.

Sebastian: Well, he is attempting to be helpful. He would be meeting with more success, however, if he was remotely capable of comprehending the problem at hand. Perhaps being a skeleton is suppressing his self-preservation instincts?

The avatar ignores the paper and interacts with Sans.

Sans: hey… puzzles might be fun. if you tried them.

Sebastian looks irritated.

Sebastian: Yes, I actually happen to agree with that. If I was permitted to try them.

The avatar exits right, passes the dog house, and saves.

[6 left.]

Sebastian: Mini-bosses, I assume.

The avatar exits right again and encounters another puzzle, which Sebastian solves on the first try. He still smiles slightly as the avatar exits right.

Sebastian: Well, at least that wasn’t a complete waste.

The avatar exits bottom and finds Sans.

Sans: what’s up?

Sebastian: What, nothing else?

The avatar goes left and finds Sans on the other side unreasonably quickly. Sebastian smirks slightly and the avatar interacts with Sans.

Sans: say… are you following me?

Sebastian: Clearly, I have nothing better to do.

The avatar exits left, wanders around, and an encounter triggers. It is skipped without comment, and the avatar exits top again, and then right.

Sebastian: Quite a bit of fairly pointless wandering. Am I missing something, I wonder? Though that may be an engineered feeling.

The avatar continues on and finally encounters a number of small piles of snow, ending in a large, excitable armored dog which emerges from another. Sebastian pinches the bridge of his nose again.

[It’s the Greater Dog.]

Sebastian: My worst nightmare.

Sebastian defeats this foe easily.

Sebastian: There isn’t much challenge to this game, is there? Is that, too, deliberate?

Sebastian smirks.

Sebastian: Then again, I may simply be uncommonly good at it.

The avatar continues on, eventually coming to one end of a bridge. On the other, Papyrus and Sans waited.

Papyrus: HUMAN! THIS IS YOUR FINAL AND MOST DANGEROUS CHALLENGE!

Sebastian: I haven’t been given any challenges yet.

Papyrus: BEHOLD! THE GAUNTLET OF DEADLY TERROR!

Six different weapons emerge from various parts of the screen, in between the avatar and the skeletons. Sebastian raises his eyebrows and smirks.

Sebastian: Why, Mr. Skeleton, I never would have attributed such viciousness to your character!

Papyrus: WHEN I SAY THE WORD, IT WILL FULLY ACTIVATE! CANNONS WILL FIRE! SPIKES WILL SWING! BLADES WILL SLICE! EACH PART WILL SWING VIOLENTLY UP AND DOWN! ONLY THE TINIEST CHANCE OF VICTORY WILL REMAIN!!!

Sebastian looks unimpressed.

Papyrus: ARE YOU READY!? BECAUSE! I! AM! ABOUT! TO DO IT!

A pause. Papyrus turns away. Sebastian looks irritated.

Sans: well? what’s the holdup?

Papyrus: HOLDUP!? WHAT HOLDUP!? I’M… I’M ABOUT TO ACTIVATE IT NOW!

Pause.

Sebastian: Oh, for goodness’ sake.

Sans: that, uh, doesn’t look very activated.

Papyrus: WELL! …THEY’RE PROBABLY GOING TO WALK THROUGH IT. AND IT WON’T BE ANY FUN AT ALL.

Sebastian: You know, I’m not surprised in the least. And, of course, he doesn’t at all realize that once he activates it, ‘just walking through it’ is actually the entire point…

Sans: hmmm… so this human thing was a bust, huh?

Papyrus: WELL. I MEAN. I’M EXCITED TO CAPTURE THEM. SO I’LL BECOME A FAMOUS ROYAL GUARDSMAN!!!

Sebastian: You may try, Mr. Skeleton.

Papyrus: BUT ALL THE TIME I PUT INTO THESE PUZZLES… IT’S KIND OF LIKE THROWING A BIRTHDAY PARTY…

Sans: without traps and fire?

Papyrus: EXACTLY!! IT’S POINTLESS!!!

Sebastian: Goodness. I am violently reminded of far too many people.

Papyrus: MAYBE YOU WERE RIGHT TO BE LAZY ABOUT PUZZLES.

Sans: me? right about something? really?

Papyrus: …YEAH!! WHAT AM I SAYING! YOU’RE STILL COMPLETELY WRONG! I JUST HAVE THE WRONG AUDIENCE! THINK ABOUT HOW MUCH FUN UNDYNE WOULD HAVE HERE! FLAMES, VIOLENCE, IT’S RIGHT UP HER ALLEY!

Sebastian rolls his eyes.

Sebastian: Far too many people.

Papyrus: SO I WON’T WASTE THIS PUZZLE ON YOU. I JUST HAVE TO APPRECIATE… THE FRIEND I ALREADY HAVE!!!

Sebastian: And perhaps your brother, supporting you every step of the way. But that’s none of my business, of course.

The weapons withdraw and Papyrus turns away.

Papyrus: PHEW! A VALUABLE LIFE LESSON!!! NYEH HEH HEH!!!

Sebastian scowls as he reads the laugh, but does not drop the in-character voice. Papyrus exits right.

Sebastian: Another waste of time, I see.

The avatar exits right, passing Sans this time. Soon it comes to a town, which is mostly quiet. The avatar enters a building, and what appears to be a shopping screen pops up.

[But nobody came.]

Sebastian: That flavor text is going to haunt me in my rare attempts to sleep.

Sebastian selects ‘read’ first.

[(There’s a note here.) Please don’t hurt my family.]

Sebastian: This isn’t a game, this is a lecture on why it doesn’t actually pay to murder people who annoy you.

Sebastian then selects ‘steal.’

[You took 758G from behind the counter.]

Sebastian: And plenty of good that does me if I have no need to buy anything because the shopkeeper has apparently run away.

Sebastian selects ‘take’ and takes one of each item. Then he closes the shopping screen and the avatar continues to explore the area. It is abandoned. The avatar interacts with the sparkling save point.

[Determination.]

The avatar wanders right and finds a monster. Sebastian raises one eyebrow and the avatar interacts with it. He chooses a squeaky voice for the character.

?: Yo, everyone ran away and hid somewhere. Man, adults can be so dumb sometimes, haha… Don’t they know we’ve got Undyne to protect us!?

Sebastian [deadpan]: A tiny moron.

The avatar continues right, but every building it enters is abandoned. Sebastian frowns.

Sebastian: Then why bother to develop the town so thoroughly at all…?

Finally, the avatar exits right into a misty area. It continues right until it is obscured, and then stops and appears as a shadow. A moment later, a shadow Papyrus appears as well. Sebastian sighs, frowning.

Sebastian: Ah. From the looks of the scenery, I’d say it’s time.

Papyrus: HALT, HUMAN!

The avatar steps forward.

Papyrus: HEY, QUIT MOVING WHILE I’M TALKING TO YOU!

Sebastian smirks faintly.

Sebastian: I suppose it is rather rude. But it won’t matter soon, Mr. Skeleton.

Papyrus: I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE SOME THINGS TO SAY. FIRST: YOU’RE A FREAKING WEIRDO!

Sebastian snorts.

Papyrus: NOT ONLY DO YOU NOT LIKE PUZZLES. BUT THE WAY YOU SHAMBLE ABOUT FROM PLACE TO PLACE… THE WAY YOUR HANDS ARE ALWAYS COVERED IN DUSTY POWDER. IT FEELS… LIKE YOUR LIFE IS GOING DOWN A DANGEROUS PATH.

Sebastian’s expression falls into something unreadable.

Papyrus: HOWEVER! I, PAPYRUS, SEE GREAT POTENTIAL WITHIN YOU! EVERYONE CAN BE A GREAT PERSON IF THEY TRY!

Sebastian stops, and remains silent and motionless for five seconds.

Papyrus: AND ME, I HARDLY HAVE TO TRY AT ALL!!! NYEH HEH HEH HEH HEH HEH!

Sebastian does not react to either of these statements and reads them somewhat mechanically, though still in his chosen voice. The avatar steps forward again.

Papyrus: HEY, QUIT MOVING! THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT! HUMAN! I THINK YOU ARE IN NEED OF GUIDANCE! SOMEONE NEEDS TO KEEP YOU ON THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW! BUT WORRY NOT! I, PAPYRUS… WILL GLADLY BE YOUR FRIEND AND TUTOR! I WILL TURN YOUR LIFE RIGHT AROUND!!!

The avatar continues to walk forward. Sebastian’s voice has regained his energy, but he is still expressionless.

Papyrus: I SEE YOU ARE APPROACHING. ARE YOU OFFERING A HUG OF ACCEPTANCE?

Sebastian [softly]: Fool.

Papyrus: WOWIE!! MY LESSONS ARE ALREADY WORKING!! I, PAPYRUS, WELCOME YOU WITH OPEN ARMS!

An encounter triggers and Sebastian flinches, and then scowls.

[Papyrus is sparing you.]

Sebastian: He really is precisely that kind of idiot, isn’t he? Goodness.

Sebastian scowls for a moment longer, and then kills Papyrus in silence.

Papyrus: W-WELL, THAT’S NOT WHAT I EXPECTED… BUT… ST… STILL!

Sebastian cuts himself off. His eyes go wide and begin to glow bright crimson, and his canines lengthen into fangs. Three seconds pass, and then the glow fades from his eyes, his fangs shrink away, and he relaxes. He looks melancholy. Two more seconds pass, and he reads the dialogue in a quiet and unadorned voice.

Papyrus: I BELIEVE IN YOU! YOU CAN DO A LITTLE BETTER! EVEN IF YOU DON’T THINK SO! I… I PROMISE…

Three seconds of silence pass.

Sebastian: Well. If I had known he was that sort of character, I might have paid more mind to him earlier on. All the same… it is too late now, I suppose.

Two more seconds of silence pass, and then the avatar begins to walk again.

#sebastian michaelis #kuroshitsuji #black butler #undertale #I WROTE THIS IN ONE NIGHT???? #I DON'T KNOW HOW THIS HAPPENED??????? #IT IS THREE IN THE MORNING AND I'VE BEEN WORKING ON THIS FOR FOUR HOURS STRAIGHT?????????? #fanfiction #my writing #yes sebastian named his character ciel #he thought it was funny cause it was a helpless kid #WHAT THE FUCK @ ME

[raines-reads]

Hey I’m gonna die because I have to wait an entire year for the next installment

I wrote a little continuation of the story because I am dying inside because of the plot twist and the cliff hanger and I need more. (enjoy bc I devoured the book and wrote this instead of studying or doing my homework :))

Warner

My mind is entirely void of any complex thought, reduced to simple sentences, to the kind of inelegant language Kenji is always so partial to.

I’m almost sure that I’m screaming, but I can’t be, because no one is looking at me as if I am, as if I’ve just lost every single bit of sanity my father left me after he stripped it down bit by bit. 

Juliette—Ella?—is somewhere in this house, somewhere underneath the same roof as I am, chained and confused and probably terrified. And I can’t do anything about it.

I can’t do a single thing about it.

Not a single thing.

And again I am reminded just how weak I am. How useless. Worthless.

Because I couldn’t stop this, couldn’t prevent it, couldn’t protect the one thing in this world I still hold so dear.

Juliette has been ripped from me, and I have no idea what to do about it.

“An interesting turn of events.” Lena is aggravatingly smug, as if she finds this entire thing some huge source of amusement. I’m so tempted to jump across this table and wring my hands around her pale throat, the same way she has already shown that she won’t have any trouble doing to me.

“Interesting indeed,” Nicolás mutters, digging into his food, though his tone is subdued, bored almost. He cares not for Juliette—Ella—not a single bit.

I haven’t touched my food. I don’t feel like eating. I can’t eat here, in this room with all of the other supreme children, like we’re all just here to catch up and celebrate the homecoming of a Supreme child, as if Juliette has merely gone abroad to study and has now returned home where she belongs.

But she doesn’t belong here. Not really.

“Eat,” Nazeera says quietly, nudging me. “She’s fine.”

I don’t believe her.

I want to.

But I don’t.

Juliette was just barely able to swallow all that I’d given her but this? What would she do with this monumental moment, this enormous lie that’s finally lifted?

I myself am still reeling. Still trying to match her with the feeble memories of a small girl with brown hair and an older sister, the two of them always dressed to match, like dolls that came as a matching set. I’m still unable to process the fact that I met Juliette long before I grew obsessed with her abilities in order to save my mother, still reeling from everything that has conspired in the past few weeks.

I stand up and out of my chair suddenly, and everyone’s gaze snaps to me. Curious, bored, annoyed; their emotions flit and here and there, as if they’re being thrown at me but the inner turmoil is so strong that everything else bounces off.

I don’t offer a single word of explanation, don’t meet anyone’s eyes.

I turn and walk away, with nowhere to go and nothing to do but lose my mind.

I wonder where Kenji is, or if he’s even alive still. Maybe Winston made it as well, who knows. I’m sure Juliette is going crazy worrying about them. I’m sure she’s worried about what she’s done, and how her friends are dead and that she’s just slaughtered well over five hundred people. She must be wondering about the base, about everyone she’s left behind, the people she promised to protect.

But then again, I’m not even sure I’m entirely sure I really know Juliette anymore.

She keeps growing, evolving, faster than me, stronger than me. As much as Juliette doesn’t know about me, there’s much I seem to need to learn about her.

I had no clue of her parents before recent, no clue I’d known her in my childhood, no clue that she was capable of such a level of damage, of pure killing power.

I have no clue about what to do from here.

No clue about what any of this means.

Juliette is a Supreme child now—always has been. Will they groom her to lead Oceania? Will they even let her live?

Will I be forced into her absent place, as the new leader of North America, taking my father’s place just as I had been groomed to after all?

I don’t know what any of this means. I don’t think I want to.

I want the world to stop spinning so fast, for the time to stop slipping through my fingers like sand. I want to go back in time, to those few days of complacency, when I still had Juliette to hold and love and let me fall apart for.

But now, I’m not sure I have anything but shattered remnants of a life.

Juliette

My parents. Parents. Biological parents. My biological parents.

I can’t seem to compute it, as if my brain is still so inferior that it can’t even process that much.

My mind is empty and yet exploding at the same time and none of it—absolutely none of it seems to be lining up.

Because my parents are sitting in front of me and grinning, as if my ankles aren’t still shackled beneath the table, as if they haven’t conveniently forgotten about me for the past— what, twelve years?

I see myself in both of them, I see it more than I ever saw it in my other parents. My fake parents.

I have my mother’s hair, the slope of her nose, and same small build. I have my father’s eyes, his lips, and maybe a little bit of his jaw.

I can not deny the evidence that I am their child.

I am not that stupid, not that naive.

And yet every cell in my body seems to deny and reject the notion. Because I am fighting against the tons of weight that have suddenly dropped on me with all the inhuman strength my biological parents have now stripped away from me.

“Not hungry?” She asks me, as if she really is my mother, as if she might really care.

Such powerful deceit.

I wonder how and where she learned it, if she’ll force me to learn it now that I am here.

I say nothing.

Not because I have nothing to say.

But because there’s just too much. Too many questions I have to ask. Too many things I want to scream. Too many things I want to tear them apart with, but they’re all busy fighting inside me and none of them are fitting in the passageway from my mind to my vocal chords to my mouth and into the air.

So I say nothing.

“Ella—“

“No.” The Supreme Commander Of Oceania—my mother—seems just the smallest bit surprised, as if I am merely just a rebellious teenager she’ll banish to their room within minutes.

And something inside of longs for it, for the life I might’ve had, the family I could’ve been surrounded by. Dysfunctional maybe, but maybe then I’d be stronger, maybe then my life would be more than it is now, a prisoner in a home that’s supposed to be mine now but isn’t.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not Ella,” I state, staring her straight in the eyes, and even though I don’t know her and I’ve never truly met her before I still sound too much like a child rebelling a parent, and I hate it. Hate the way that emotion rubs against my skin, like trying to flip the scales of a snake. “Juliette,” I say. “For twelve years I have been Juliette. I am Juliette.”

Both of my so called parents grin and share a look, as if I’m adorable, like I’m a joke to be taken.

I want to scream, to project this anger and pain and surprise and confusion and use it to shatter the very walls to hold me here.

“You’re Ella. Our Ella.” This time it’s my father who speaks, his voice alight but low.

I turn what I hope is a steel gaze towards him. “You sold Ella off to another country and left her there to rot. You shipped off your own damned blood and left them there for twelve years and now, now that I am strong and valuable. Now is when you want me.”

Twelve years.

I might have had them in a sense, but they still feel as if they’ve been stolen from me. Ripped away from who I should be. I was born Ella, daughter of a Supreme commander and now—

Now who am I?

Who will I be?

My birth giver—this woman who called me down to dinner as if we sit down together for a meal every week and day—sighs and sets down her fork, as if she’s exasperated with me. “There’s still too much you don’t know nor understand—“

“Because my life has a been a lie,” I spit, and she takes another harsh breath.

“Ella—“

“What did you do?” I demand, leaning forward in my seat, my hands flat on the table, supporting my weight. I wish I had my strength. I wish I could crush this table and lunge for both of them. “What did you do to my friends and to Aaron—“

“Aaron?” The man who helped create my DNA perks at the name, and it feels like I’ve made a mistake I don’t know about.

“Hmm, you’ve always been fond of the blonde young boy when you were little. Interesting to see things are still the same.” His tone. It’s so casual and so amused and so taunting—like they both know they’re playing a game with me that I want out of.

“Eat, darling,” my mother dismisses, picking her fork back up.

I do not.

“Where is she?” I all but scream, and they both stiffen, are both all too aware of who I am speaking of. “Where is Em—“

“That’s enough.” I see it then, I see why this woman is the Supreme Commander in the simple she demands me to stop.

And when I speak, my voice is all but a whisper. “How could you,” I accuse, so meek, so much the weak and helpless little girl I want to rip out of me and shred to bits until there is nothing left but the cold and shrewd child I should’ve grown to be.

The world has fallen from its axis, the gravity of every single thing in my life has suddenly gone awry. There nothing tethering my sanity, nothing stopping me from exploding all at once.

I don’t know where this leads me.

I don’t know what else there’s left to do.

Every modicum of progress I’ve ever made has been reduced to this, this chained girl sitting at a table and glaring at parents that have never really been hers.

And all too easily I am once again the girl who hid away, who did not understand a single moment of the world.

It’s deja vu almost.

I remember being taken from the asylum, being forced to eat a meal with a blonde boy who wore a cruel smile. I was an idiot then, naive and uneducated in every single way.

I know better now. I’ve grown that much at least.

My mother refuses to respond, and neither does my father. I’m ignored, expected to do as I am told.

But that seems to be the only way out.

So I pick up my fork, ignore the looks I’m sent, and begin to eat.

#restore me spoilers #restore me fanfic #restore me #tahereh mafi

[tam-nya]

Emoji Movie-related rant (If you're expecting another rant hating the movie, look somewhere else)

Please note I have not seen the movie yet as it doesn't release in my country until September unfortunately. If I lived in USA I would have happily seen it on opening day. I got two important plot points spoiled already though. Yeah, don’t tag spoilers just because it’s apparently an objectively bad movie.

I want you to think of something you really like. Something that means a lot to you. Now imagine if it had the same response that the Emoji Movie got. How would you feel? Honestly, I couldn't care less about the low ratings on Rotten Tomatoes and imdb. Who cares what 'critics' think. There's already another movie I like that has less than 10% on Rotten Tomatoes and less than 3 on imdb. I have awful taste, oh well. I also don't mind the occasional joke about the Emoji Movie. If you have fun mocking it, go ahead, I don’t mind people making silly jokes and then moving on

But when people extensively hate on it and make dramatic long posts about how tragic its existence is and beg people not to give it money, I feel isolated and stupid and worthless. I already have mental struggles with feeling inhuman and detached. I need to fit in and feel validated. But with the world universally hating something I unironically like, I feel like I don't belong here. It's just a harmless animated movie and people say it makes them lose faith in the world. I liked all the clips and trailers, they made me laugh and smile, I'll likely like the movie itself. How is it worse than other animated movies?? Because of the toxic "lol this is so CRINGE" mindset? Because it's about something modern and that's trying too hard to be hip? Well, hating the movie seems like the 'hip' thing to do now. Do you want it to exist or not? You say it shouldn't but you all seem to be having a blast tearing it down! Have fun doing that. What about racist/sexist movies, or movies that demonize mentally ill people? People just want to complain about a 'cringey' but harmless movie 100 times more.

Yes, I am upset. My mental health has already been relapsing but because I'm a sensitive wreck, all of this is making me feel even more worthless. It's nobody's fault though but my own for being a shameful waste of existence who likes trashy stuff. I had nobody to hype over the movie with. I can't talk about it because everyone will think I'm a joke. Meanwhile my paranoia is destroying me, I just want to be myself while life lasts but it seems like I'm not allowed to enjoy a harmless piece of entertainment! It's exhausting to have to scroll through pages and pages of hate on my tumblr dash. Can't anyone let it go?

And the worst part? When I see it and if I like it, I'll feel a ton WORSE. Knowing I like this thing that apparently NO person in the right mind should like. I'll have NO ONE to gush over the movie to, and I bet writing this post is making me nothing but a LAUGHING STOCK. Is it right for me to feel so miserable and ashamed for liking an animated movie? I even hurt myself over my current emotions, I am already a hopeless self-harmer and my feelings of being inhuman and a cringeworthy joke led me to do it again.

Why do I like the Emoji Movie so much aside from the trailers being funny & pretty and the characters being cute to me? Well, my entire life I've liked smiley faces. I find them really comforting for some reason. If you notice, a lot of things I like have simple, emoticon-like faces. Lego people, Tamagotchis (some of them do, at least), Sanrio, and more recently, Roblox. And of course, emojis. When my favorite aunt sent me packages she put smiley face stickers on them. They always brightened my day. I was devastated when she died. My art style when I was little was very basic with emoticon-like faces. And here comes the biggest contributing factor to why I am happy the Emoji Movie exists: When I was younger I had a series of dreams with emoji-like characters. They were yellow smiley faces on simple gray bodies with no arms or legs. When they felt emotions, their face would change to another, emoji-like expression. E.g. the shock emoji, crying emoji, etc. I loved these dreams! The dreams looked like 2D animation and I began to wish the dreams were a real cartoon. When the Emoji movie was first announced, I actually felt really happy and comforted since smiley faces mean so much to me and bring me fond memories. Yes, I was disappointed by the designs at first, but then I grew to like them! And then in one of the trailers where Gene is dancing and he changes his face to all different emoji expressions, it reminded me sooo much of my childhood dreams and I felt really comforted and happy inside.

So there you have it. I'm expecting everyone to mock me but who cares, nothing can bring my self esteem lower than it already is right now. Keep in mind I'm not mad at anyone. I'm just doomed to be an awful mistake who likes bad stuff and I hate myself for finding happiness in things the world is against.

Have a good day everyone, sorry for the long rant but I needed to get my feeligns out.

#tamactuated #emoji movie #vent

[rivkahstudies]

General IB Tips (Part 1, because I have a lot to say on this topic)

Whether you’re just entering the IB program or, like me, you’re almost done with your first year, here are some tips that I have picked up from my experiences as an overwrought but successful student!

For those of you that are unaware, International Baccalaureate is an international standard for education that is employed at schools around the world. It is an extremely rigorous program. More below the cut!

My experience as an IB student:

I am finishing my Junior (Grade 11) year in a Florida, US school on May 24. This is important because my school puts the most work on the Juniors so Seniors can focus on applying for colleges and scholarships and taking exams. They still have a lot of work though.

I am not taking any IB exams this year, all of my classes will be tested for in my senior year.

I am a full IB student, which means all 7 of my hour-long classes are IB.

I have 6 extracurricular activities but I will not get a paying job until next year.

I have generalized anxiety disorder, depression, and insomnia/chronic nightmares that impact my ability to work.

general - the conditions

PLEASE banish the advice that “You’ll be perfectly fine if you don’t procrastinate! IB is so easy if you’re a hard worker!” There are so many other factors, a lot of which I will cover, that will impact your ability to work, and even though IB is standardized across the boards, each school does things slightly differently. There are going to be difficult days. You’re going to have breakdowns and want to quit, and hate yourself and IB. There will be really bad days, or really bad weeks. I have done very little procrastinating and have worked really hard, and I’ve still had difficulty dealing with the workload. 

IB does take a lot of discipline and routine. You will have to sacrifice. I chose to sacrifice sleep and my social life, but I’m working harder to take care of myself now that the worst days are clearing out.

IB is not just for the intelligent kids. It’s for the kids willing to be chewed up and spit out. This takes a lot of character beyond book smarts, and if you decide to do the IB Certificate Program (some IB classes) instead of IB Diploma (full IB), or just full on drop out, that is okay. It is always okay. Not everyone is made for a program that expects an inhuman amount of effort and work. If you have complicating circumstances or even just issues with your personal condition with taking IB, there’s no shame in quitting or dropping classes. There are other options past IB if you want to succeed in life. IB is a choice. 

Don’t go through this alone. My rule of thumb is to always have 2 kids my age and 1 adult I can rely on to rant to, get advice from, or just cry on the shoulder of when I’m having my hard times. This preserves your mental health and helps people help you if you get to a really bad point.

And despite all the negativity (read: honesty) in these points above... Be excited! Keep an open mind. IB fosters creative and critical thinking, and opens you up to an international mindset useful in all aspects of life. It doesn’t teach all the life skills I would like, but that’s what your mentors and peers are for. If there’s something you want, go for it, and always attempt to find a good side to every adversity. I keep a lil jar called the Good Things Jar where I put in slips of paper of good things that happen to me. I have been neglecting it due to busy schedules lately, but even on bad days I try to put one good thing in. It’s seriously helped my outlook this year.

general - completing assignments

Remember: Extra Credit is your best friend, but your priority is to get the assigned work done. EC is for when something falls through or no amount of studying will get you passing that Thermodynamics test. If your teacher doesn’t give a lot of EC and offers some, jump on it! You won’t regret it.

Always prioritize based on size of the project and the deadline. If it’s a longer deadline but a bigger project, start as soon as possible. No matter what the size, always work on the things due the soonest first in case you can’t get to all of your to do list.

Talk to your teachers. Especially when things come up. Whether it’s extracurriculars, family issues, personal issues, emergencies, etc, if something keeps you from completing an assignment or you aren’t grasping the materials, talk to your teachers. It is very important to have a close relationship with even your disliked IB teachers because you need to be able to get cut breaks. IB teachers know the issues of IB, they’re usually understanding. Chances are, as long as you’re a good and honest student, they’ll take late work or bargain with you, and help you make up work unless they already have a procedure or bulletin for you to reference on your own time.

Don’t always chunk your workload by assignment. I will break up even simpler tasks into certain milestones so that I can cope. I want to rewrite all my math notes? I want chapter 5 done by Monday. I never write my schedule so strictly that I have specific times for each assignment. I see some people say 1:00: Read, 2:00 Eat, 3:00 Take Notes. Even the most organized students can’t conform to that rigid a schedule. Instead, schedule periods for general aspects - the morning is for studying, the afternoon for writing, the evening for relaxing, etc. And make sure you program in breaks, because it’s not healthy to sit for too long, write for too long, etc without proper self-care!

notetaking

Good notetaking skills are very valuable! I don’t have time to make my notes super embellished like a lot of studyblrs, but I still seriously value clean notes and I will retake notes multiple times if necessary. Not only does it help when you need to reference them again for test or exam time, but it helps you cement the knowledge in your mind more.

My notetaking strategy: four pen/marker colors. 1 for titles, 1 for subtitles, 1 for important details (names, dates, key points, etc) and 1 (typically black) for supporting information/regular text. I like to change up the colors so I can remember separate note sets in the same subject/notebook, so you’ll see one of the many taxes that provoked the American revolution in greens and blues, the next in reds, and the next pinks and purples. Diagrams get their own sets of colors depending on complexity and keys.

The reason I like this notetaking strategy is it still allows me neat, color-coded notes without getting overly fancy. I draw only what I absolutely need to, and sometimes I’ll doodle if I need to relax and my hands are itching to draw. But generally I find that aesthetic notetaking just spends time I can use to relax or complete other work, so I refrain! Practicality over aesthetics in IB.

working past mental illness

A lot of us have it. I have firsthand experience, and it’s not fun. Just Wednesday night, I ended off all of my homework at 12 AM and had a mental breakdown until 2 AM. There will be really bad days, and you just can’t avoid them. IB has some flexibility for students, but it still doesn’t have much wriggle room for chronic mental illness.

Be aware of yourself. I know I get sensory overload, I know I have anxiety attacks and that my average resting heartbeat has been 100-120 lately wITHOUT COFFEE and I need to take care of that. I know I have insomnia and nightmares and it’s hard to get to sleep. Use that knowledge to your advantage to prevent procrastination, situations that are triggering or overwhelming, and people that aren’t good for you. 

Don’t overdo the extracurriculars. They’re good for the resume and they’re fun, but trust me, it’s not a good idea. I have 6, and at the peak of their work I was so overworked I didn’t sleep for an entire week. I had 8 before I started full IB, and I dropped 2 and still had issues. My advice is 2-3, and devote all your energy to it within reason. As it is, I don’t believe you should join anything you can’t give at least 65% to. Sure you might not be able to attend every meeting or take on extra responsibilities, but you should be attentive and dedicated to it. I love all my extracurriculars dearly and I cope with the stress because it’s rewarding, and by this time of the year most of them have finished for the year anyway.

Don’t bottle it up. As stated earlier, you should have 2 kids your age and 1 adult you can rely on to talk to about one subject at any time. They can be anyone you trust, but people should know what your state is so they can help if things go wrong. I like the magic number of 3 people because it allows you to express yourself multiple times without putting too much energy into one person. They are people with lives too, but you are not a burden and you deserve to be heard and validated. I like to rotate my 3. One time it’ll be my boyfriend (who’s usually in every group anyway because he likes to know that I’m okay and I like to know he is) and my best gal pal and my TOK teacher, next time it’ll be my mom, my classmate in English and my other gal pals. Don’t be afraid to reach out.

If you can’t reach out, be honest with yourself. Talk about what’s bothering you to yourself. Say “I feel mad” or “I have a headache” or “I’m panicking.” Identify the sources and try to ground yourself. There are multiple grounding and breathing techniques I use and I’d be happy to go into more detail if y’all ask about it. If grounding doesn’t work, try other coping methods such as mapping out possible solutions or taking time to self-care and medicate. If you know yourself, you’re a step closer to overcoming whatever mental boundaries you have or, at least, being more comfortable. If I start crying for “no reason” I think about what’s been stressing me out and run through recent events. It helps me rationalize and stop my anxiety from ruling me and blowing things out of proportion. I also view my intrusive thoughts like “you’re nothing, you’re worthless” as a backseat driver. “No, Karen, I’m not, I’m the driver, hush.” It seems foolish, but it really helps me because it’s both humorous and also me being rational. 

Anyway! This turned out waaaay longer than I intended it but this is just the tip of the iceberg, so if you guys wants a TL;DR version I will post it tomorrow or Saturday by request and if you want more tips just message me or ask me!! I love getting asked specific questions because it’s easier for me to answer any specific concerns or curiosities you have! If you’d like, my next post can be about suggestions on how to tackle specific aspects of IB like the EE or the CAS project!

Tagging people that specifically wanted this post:

@hunny-studies , @unfortunatelackofaliens 

#rivkah talks #rivkahstudies #ib #international baccalaureate #tw mental illness #anxiety #depression #tw panic attacks #just pm if you need me to add any more tws #studyblr #studying #advice #high school