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tbaluver · 4 months ago

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When They're The MC Pt.2- The Love And DeepSpace Men

pairings in order: xavier x reader, zayne x reader, rafayel x reader, sylus x reader, caleb x reader summary: when you're the love interest and he's the mc genre/tags: fluff fluff + silly + slightly suggestive a/n: hihi lovelies ! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ i planned on making a part 2 for this a while bc a lot of new content happened last time i made the first one! this time caleb is in this one! the first one will be linked down below if you didn't get a chance to read it hehe ♡(˃͈ ˂͈ ) enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier is actually the lightest spender out of any of them. He occasionally spends a couple money on the Aurum Pass and sometimes buys the Promise whenever your cards are on there. He’ll buy a few packs here and there if he’s close to hitting pity

He would be curled up in his bed, clutching his plushie, pretending it’s you as he finishes the last chapter of your myth. He wishes the plushie he was holding was you, hoping in some way to comfort you in his head and him. He would find your story to be so beautifully written yet SO devastating. Xavier might not sleep for a couple hours after reading your lore, he’ll end up staring at his ceiling as he thinks about it again and again

Knows all about Stellactrum and how to build your character. He would know what stats your protocores need and is almost finished with you DeepSpace Trials

Wishes there was a sleeping quality time feature with you. He’s the type to tuck in his phone as your character and him go to sleep together

Places all your characters plushies on the shelf and the ones that you earned from the claw machine for your desk

The type to not wake you up whenever you’re asleep on the cafe couch. He would only talk to you when you’re up because he thinks you need your rest

Zayne:

He has a good amount of diamonds but is not afraid to splurge for you and your outfits

Lets you wear whatever outfit you want and lightly chuckles when you pull the most silliest combo ever. Sometimes when he’s playing at night he’ll change your outfit to pajamas. He’ll even take the accessories off so your character doesn’t get uncomfortable sleeping on the couch

Lore expert. Knows every single detail of your lore. He knows so much that he would notice the smallest detail in your clothing in your myth and how it connects to the story. He would love the details they put in your character

He didn’t think he could ever desire a character more deeply than he did after reading and watching your myths. You can’t tell from his face, well maybe from the way his brows furrowed and the slight frown on his lips after finishing it all, that he was going through it internally. His character and yours were doomed in each timeline and yet they both try again and again. Every detail of your story captivates him but after all that he needs to take a step away from the game and go for a walk.

He would have an organized desk with most of your things for your character rather than for his own indulgence. Places things on your desk that you might need like a tablet, or a computer, mug, a mirror, a lamp, etc, as if you were going to use the desk in game

Has literally no one to talk to about this game or your lore so he just simply likes and repost/ reblogs to posts he simply agrees on

Rafayel:

Flabbergasted. He joined this game for LOVE not DEPRESSION. Why is his mc killing you on the most important day ever? He’s literally talking to himself and swearing how he would NEVER do that to your character. He would stay in the bathtub curled up in a ball as he pouts for hours because of how sad he got from your lore. He'll let you play just a few rounds on the claw machine after reading your story.

He's wasting no time and he's poking and waking you up the moment he logs in the game

I’m sorry but he’s not letting you pick any outfits by yourself anymore after you chose the worst combo ever. He’ll give you another chance only for you to do it AGAIN. Therefore you lost all your chances to pick anything for yourself again

He would go all out on designing your desk. It would take him ages to decide where to place certain things but he wants to make sure it looked aesthetically pleasing for you

The type to glitch the poses of you and him together whether they were cute or very lewd. He knows how to work the lighting and the perfect angles for you and his character, making him have the most aesthetically pleasing photos out of anyone in the game

He doesn’t like how there’s 5 characters on the banners now and it’s not because he hates the other love interests but because it feels like the more characters there are, the more he’s losing his chances on bringing you home on a 50/50

Will scold you in the cafe when you don’t come home early or at all

Has the Aurum pass and the Heartfelt Vow Promise, only if the base for his title looks pretty. Also would just have a pretty profile in general

Y/N defender for life. People often misunderstand your character SO much from the main storyline saying how you abandoned him and you’re a meanie for selling him out. He’s not afraid to correct people and give them the right information.

Sylus:

Most definitely got your myth pair to R3 for the outfits because you looked absolutely badass in your ripped clothing. He does not need to worry about any upcoming banners from how much he already spent in this game. It doesn't even hurt his bank account

Never in his life did he think he would find such a character or your story to be so captivating and beautifully written, leaving him to feel so empty when he reached the end of your myth. However he did scoff when he saw the kiss scene in your myth fade out. As the myth reached its conclusion, he let out a deep sigh, staring at the screen until his reflection appeared on his phone, reflecting everything that just happened.

The type to immediately switch his nickname once he heard there was finally an update. He wanted to hear what you sounded like calling him sweetie, honey, baby, etc. It was just simply adorable that he caught himself smiling at his screen

He would get bored of the game so fast when he finishes the daily activities and finishes playing kitty cards and claw machines with you. He thinks there’s not much to do other than events and he already finished all your content and grinded whatever material he needs for you so there was nothing else to do.

Sometimes he’ll come back just to poke you and hear your voice and sometimes he’ll mess around in the glint photobooth to imagine more things with you.

Has a LOT of pictures of you and him together. Spends a lot of time in the glint photo booth especially after they updated it with new poses and the gazes. A couple photos found in his gallery are his characters in between your legs on the cafe couch

Takes a while decorating your office and hangs up his favorite pictures of you and him all over the hangs or the walls.

Would flex his R3 five star memories of you on his profile. They would all be maxed out

The type to actually use the mic feature whenever the game lets him use it to sing happy birthday or any other song depending on the event or any other card

Caleb:

Caleb had the game in the beginning to try it out and loved your character in the beginning only for them to yk...BOOM

But your character looked suspiciously a little too good for them to be an ‘npc’ so he was one of the strongest soldiers out there that waited weeks and months for you to be a confirmed love interest. He literally fought for his life in this fandom and he won at the end when you finally got released

Finally he has more content of you than just those four scenes

Day 1 Y/N Wanter and now Day 1 Y/N Haver

Was so into you being protective and possessive over him in the storyline. He could feel his cock twitch in his pants after you said that. He folded when you wanted to keep him there where you only wanted him for yourself. If only there was an ending for that option.

Anyways, reading more into your lore and myths, he continued to feel bad for you. The way you had to go through so many things made his heart ache for you, if only your character could see the puppy eyes he had the entire time. One of the things he loved about his relationship with his mc’s relationship with yours was how they felt like a perfect match. He adored the storyline and how it conveyed and captured the nature of their bond, their love, the fear, and everything else. It only made him yearn for your character more.

It was already the first day of your release and he already almost has all your outfits. He didn't really spend money on this game before until you released. He just didn’t have enough chocolates to get the rest of them

He loves the 4 star cards with his mc and you but he gets jealous whenever he sees them together. Yes that is the mc but that’s not him. He wishes it was him instead

Most definitely jerks off to you working out and strokes to the smallest sounds you make. That small little gasp and whimper you make when he teases you in the cafe? Or just ANY sounds you make in general? Oh his cock is twitching in his pants. Sometimes he’d just cream his pants immediately

He'd actually take your suggestions and actually go out and try what you suggest to eat. Sometimes he'll just even cook it himself

He'd also use the workout feature to actually work out so he'd already have your workout outfit once 30 days passed

The type to get shy and flustered whenever he looks up and catches you making eye contact with him whenever he uses the work/ study feature

Bonus (ALL ): They all HATE the Wanderers that LOCK their health during a battle and the ones that do an animation before you can attack them.

ʚɞ cr. for the divider @/ cafekitsune

ʚɞ first part if you havent read it! it's only all four of them tho bc caleb wasn't out yet! ( xavier, zayne, rafayel, sylus ) When They're The Mc

ʚɞ my other works if you want to check it out! Love And DeepSpace Masterlist Pg. 2

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not-not-turnblr · 1 year ago

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This one's gonna be quite possibly the only post I tag

50 notes and I fix my sleep schedule

/\ starting today (reached 50 notes while I was sleeping)

100 notes and I start getting better at not procrastinating

/\ well shit now I have to be productive :(

200 notes and keep working on the world building for a DND campaign

/\ I have a basic map sketch now I just need to add lore

400 notes and I come out as sex-oscillating to my family

/\ gonna do this on my birthday when I come out as genderfluid

800 notes and I start making more original posts

/\ oh no. I have to be original.

1600 notes and I learn to draw on paper & on tablet

/\ why do you hate me

Tag people if you want deadline is January 1st (2025 specifically)

BONUS GOAL

1 billion notes: I, a transfem, will run for president

Bonus goal deadline: 2027

Edit: its not 1,000,000,000 (one billion) notes now its one million notes

@femboy-ikea @literal-trans-beans @yahooo-official @tiredclownpossum @froggiefemboi

#note bait

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aleksatia · 3 months ago

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💗 Rafayel – Five Years Later

The second in a series of stories exploring MC’s return after five years of silence. Others are coming soon — links will be added as they’re published.

Original ask that sparked this continuation.

Sylus | Caleb | Zayne | Xavier (coming soon)

CW/TW: Trauma & PTSD themes, Implied past abduction, Betrayal / emotional manipulation, Poisoning & near-death experience, Violence (including one execution-style kill), Self-sacrifice, Intense emotional conflict, References to grief, guilt, and long-term separation, Complex relationship dynamics, Themes of forgiveness and healing While inspired by the original characters and lore of the game, this is a personal interpretation. Some aspects of character behavior, relationships, or world-building may differ from canon — especially given the five-year time gap and the impact of traumatic events. Consider it an alternate emotional timeline, shaped by growth, grief, and what-ifs.

(He taught himself silence. Learned to paint with absence, to breathe through longing. But when your shadow crossed his path again — living, breaking, real — the stillness inside him remembered how to shatter.)

The thing about disappearing is — if you do it right — no one comes looking.

Not because they don’t care. But because you made it easier to pretend you were never real in the first place.

You left the sea behind. The salt. The songs. The man with sunlight in his laugh and grief in his hands. You traded it all for concrete, steel, smoke. Somewhere between New Madrid and the Eleventh Sector, you stopped being a person and became a profile: Level 3, Tactical Division, Close Range Neutralization. Specializing in high-value body retention.

A shadow with a badge. A ghost on retainer.

It suited you.

You didn’t drink anymore. You didn’t play games. You didn’t say his name.

“Client arrival is in twenty minutes,” crackles the comm in your ear. "Full week assignment. High confidentiality. Zero contact protocol unless engaged."

You glance at your reflection in the elevator’s gold trim.

Eyes colder. Shoulders straighter. Gun holstered under a matte jacket that still smells faintly of last week’s adrenaline. You're not the girl who once cried into coral bedsheets. You're her replacement.

The hotel smells like money. That antiseptic richness meant to distract from the emptiness.

You position yourself in the lobby near the marble fountain — half concealed, half obvious. Just enough to look like part of the architecture. Just enough to see everything.

The concierge nods. The manager paces. The staff adjust flowers no one will notice.

Then: the cars. Black, sleek, ghost-silent.

Doors open.

Two assistants spill out first. Press, probably. One on a tablet, one on comms. Then a manager — with a face oddly familiar, like a half-forgotten memory trying to surface. Then—

Your heart forgets how to be a muscle.

He steps out like the city belongs to him. Like time bent itself around his absence.

Still tall. Still too elegant for the world he’s forced to live in. Purple waves of hair tied back. Sunglasses sliding down a nose built for poetry. He’s wearing that long beige coat he used to throw over your shoulders when nights got too cold, and his cologne hits you like déjà vu dipped in seawater and regret.

Your mouth is dry. Your hands are ice.

He doesn’t look at you.

Not yet.

You do what you were trained to do: you check for threats. Scan exits. Ignore your pulse.

He walks through the lobby as if unaware. As if untouched. But when he passes, just before the elevator closes — he turns his head.

And smiles.

Like sin. Like summer. Like he knew it would be you.

Then—

“Hello again, Ms. Bodyguard.”

***

The suite was silent. Too silent for something this expensive.

No music. No hum of ventilation. Just the hush of carpet under your boots, and the faint, distant rhythm of city breath outside the window.

You stood near the corner, hands behind your back, spine too straight. Default position. Default you.

He was across the room, jacket already off, sleeves rolled. Moving like someone who was used to being observed. Not by the public — by ghosts.

The wine had already been poured. He handed you a glass like it was part of the ritual. You didn’t take it.

He arched an eyebrow.

“I’m working,” you said.

He didn’t insist. Just smiled, faintly.

Of course.

He used to fill every room — all noise and color and heat. But now, somehow, he'd grown quiet. Not in absence — in weight. Like a masterpiece in a gallery. Like the only rose in a field of thorns. You could look away, but you’d still feel him. Like a crosshair you couldn’t shake.

The window beside you looked out over the city — not that you were looking. Your eyes were trained on his reflection in the glass. Even blurred by distance and light, you could tell: he hadn’t broken. But he’d bent.

Harder than most things could survive.

His voice came low, like something remembered instead of spoken.

“You weren’t always stone.”

You didn’t answer.

He crossed the room without hurry. You didn’t move.

His eyes found yours — not searching, just… waiting. Like the question wasn’t whether you’d speak. It was whether you still could.

“And yet here you are,” he murmured, “standing in my suite like you were carved to fit the corner.”

You felt the words land somewhere deep in the ribs. You didn’t flinch. Didn’t speak.

He took a slow sip from his glass. The color of the wine caught in the light — the same shade he used to mix on his palette when painting you in shadow.

“I saw the new series,” you said, voice even.

He glanced at you over the rim.

“Did you?”

“Less gold. More... grief.”

A pause. Then a smile — dry, almost kind.

“I ran out of yellow.”

That made your throat tighten. You looked away before it showed.

He studied you. Not your face — your posture. Your silences. You weren’t hiding emotion. You were holding it.

Like a soldier holding a wound closed with one hand.

“And you,” he said, softly. “Still chasing bullets?”

“I don’t chase. I shield.”

“Of course you do.”

He stepped closer. Not enough to touch. But enough that you could feel him again. That impossible warmth, wrapped in restraint.

He looked at you like an old painting. The kind you see once, remember forever, and never find again.

“You followed me,” he said, almost offhand. “Even after you left.”

You didn’t deny it.

“I had to know you were… functioning.”

He laughed — quiet, empty.

“Functioning,” he repeated. “Right.”

You searched his face for anger. You didn’t find it. Only something slower. Older.

Like ash.

“How have you been?” you asked.

It was a mistake. The question hung in the air like smoke from a match — small, stupid, but dangerous.

He stared at you for a long moment.

Then the glass in his hand cracked. A clean, bright sound. Like winter splitting.

The wine didn’t spill. He didn’t move.

“You left,” he said.

Not bitter. Not accusing.

Just: you left.

“And now you want to ask if I’ve been well?”

You shifted. Just enough to register discomfort. Nothing more.

He looked at the flame creeping along his knuckles — Evol, awake and restless. He closed his fist, and the fire vanished like breath from a mirror.

“What did I do?” he asked, quieter now. “What sin did I commit to earn a silent goodbye?”

You drew breath through your nose. Measured.

“I was tired.”

“Of what?”

You looked at him.

“Of being a story you told instead of a person you knew.”

That did it.

Not an explosion. Not a slam. Just a shift. Like something in his chest cracked, and he had no hands free to hold it in place.

He turned. Slowly. Set the broken glass down. No sound. No shatter.

Then he walked to the adjoining door, pressed it open.

“You’ll stay here,” he said.

A simple guest room. Clean, unpersonalized. Quiet.

He didn’t look at you when he added:

“You’re my shadow for the week. No leaving. No exceptions.”

“And if I object?”

He paused at the threshold. Then turned. Finally met your eyes again.

“You won’t,” he said.

Not a command. Just a prophecy.

***

The days blurred.

They stretched long — drawn out by tension and silence — and yet they flew past with the quiet cruelty of something you couldn’t stop. You caught yourself counting minutes. Not until the assignment ended — but until he left again.

You told yourself it was duty. But no. You knew. The closer it got, the more it scared you.

You’d thought you’d buried the past. That five years had been enough to cauterize what you felt. Enough to flatten grief into dull, predictable weight. You’d taught yourself not to cry. Not to ache. Not to wake up reaching for a voice that wasn’t there.

But now—

Now the thought of losing him again bled through you like poison Slow. Sharp. Relentless.

For the first time, you truly wondered — had you made the worst mistake of your life?

You’d always known leaving was cowardice. A reaction. A wound reacting to pressure. You’d told yourself it was necessary — that you couldn’t survive another secret, another lie, another impossible moment in his orbit.

But now, as you stood in his shadow again, you returned to the one truth you kept avoiding. It wasn’t just the secrets. It wasn’t just his careful, curated nonchalance. It wasn’t even the things he didn’t say.

It was that moment — the one you could never forget.

The Nest. The kidnapping. The deal he’d made behind your back.

The betrayal.

The man who once made you feel like a myth had handed you over like a pawn. And you’d left. Because you couldn’t find a version of yourself that could love him and survive it.

But now…

Now you knew. The price you both paid for your fear had been too high.

***

He treated you like a shadow. Professional. Polite. Silent.

He didn’t try to speak. Didn’t joke. Didn’t prod. Whatever playful gleam had once lived in him now belonged to the stage.

You watched him wear charm like a costume — perfectly tailored, easily removed.

The real man?

He wore quieter things now. No more garish brands. No flash. Just silk-lined precision. Weight without noise. Like he’d stopped needing to be seen in order to feel powerful.

And yet — you felt it. The way his gaze burned across rooms. The way silence wrapped around you both like a loaded pause.

Something was coming. You didn’t know what.

Only that it would not be small.

***

Then came the reception.

A charity event. Wealth, power, and politics pretending to like each other in the same room. He handed you your role the night before — not as a request.

You weren’t the bodyguard tonight. You were his date.

No one must suspect otherwise. His reputation demanded it.

And so here you were:

Draped in sea-glass velvet, cut to glide and cling. Your hair swept into soft, impossible waves. Sapphires at your ears, your throat. Everything felt too heavy. Too expensive. Even your heels were a weapon you didn’t know how to use. You hated how they made you move — slow, deliberate. Exposed.

The car slid to a stop. He stepped out first — a vision in black and steel. Then he turned, offered you a hand.

You took it. His skin was cold.

But the touch — the touch burned. Like nothing had ever healed.

Cameras. Screams. Flashing lights.

Your instincts screamed — scan the crowd. Find the threat. Always the threat. But his fingers tightened around yours. Hard.

He leaned in, breath against your ear — warm, familiar, furious.

“Smile, for fuck’s sake.”

You did.

Not for the cameras. Not for the cause.

But because you knew — the storm wasn’t over. It was just beginning.

***

You played the part well.

Neutral. Polished. Cold enough to earn whispers you never heard, but felt just behind your back.��

No one dared speak them aloud, of course. They looked at you and said the compliments to him.

“She’s stunning.”

“Such a refined presence.”

“As if she was made to be on your arm.”

As if your face belonged to him. As if your silence was his design.

In some twisted way, maybe it was.

You didn’t remember how you got here. One minute you were cataloguing exits with your eyes, tracking the crowd with practiced ease —

The next —

You were dancing.

His hand on your waist, the other guiding yours. Everything too close, too warm, too practiced.

The chandelier above cast a slow rain of light. The room turned gently, spinning around its own silence.

His touch wasn’t tender. It was intentional.

“Your expression,” he murmured, “is slowly assassinating my reputation.”

You didn’t look at him. “Your reputation as what, exactly?”

He paused. Just a second.Then:

“A man of appetites.”

You tilted your head slightly. “How poetic.”

“I thought so,” he said. “Though the press prefers playboy.”

A beat.

“So you’ve read it,” you said.

“I have someone who clips the good parts.”

“Must be a short list.”

He smiled — not kindly. “Normally, I’m seen with far more… expressive company.”

“Then why break tradition?”

His fingers flexed slightly at your waist.

“I suppose I wanted something quieter.” A beat. “Something that might bite back.”

Your gaze flicked to him. Just once. A sharpened glance.

“And how does this help your image?”

“It doesn’t.” He leaned in, voice a thread. “But it’s not always about image, is it?”

You could feel it — the heat building between syllables. Not passion. Not yet.

Just tension. Waiting.

You moved together like two creatures pretending not to hunt each other. Each step precise. Each breath withheld.

“You used to enjoy this sort of thing,” he said, voice soft now, too close. “Crowds. Light. Being seen.”

“I used to believe in things,” you replied.

He said nothing. But his hand curled tighter against your spine.

For a second, you let the silence say everything.

Then—

You noticed it.

The way his eyes had started slipping away from you. Again and again — to a single shape on the edge of the room. A man. Grey suit. Clean line. Controlled posture.

You knew that look.

The dance ended, but you weren’t let go. He took your arm, like a gentleman.

But you knew better.

***

The garden was colder than it had any right to be. The kind of cold that wasn’t about temperature — it was about distance. About the way stone walls and sculpted hedges swallowed sound and left only the weight of footsteps behind.

You followed him without a word. Because you already knew.

You’d seen his eyes stray to the man in the grey suit half a dozen times during the reception. Not nervous glances — calculated ones. Not curiosity — confirmation.

And now here you were, walking straight into the web.

The man waited by the marble fountain, one hand resting casually in his pocket, the other holding a glass of something expensive and unnecessary. His smile was pleasant. His suit was quiet money. His name was carved into memory from the briefings you used to skim with more detachment.

Elias Varrick. Publicly: philanthropist, investor, art collector, father of four. Privately: suspected ties to high-level biotech experimentation, classified marine acquisitions, and several quiet disappearances.

All rumors, of course. Nothing on paper. Nothing proven.

Still — you knew. Your gut always knew.

But you didn’t know what Rafayel knew. Not yet.

They greeted each other like old acquaintances. A handshake that looked effortless. Painless.

“I thought it best to deliver the piece myself,” Rafayel said. His voice had its old rhythm — slow, warm, dipped in charm.

You watched him as he spoke. Not the words — the tone.

Polite. Polished. Performing.

“That kind of personal art,” he added, “deserves a personal hand.”

Varrick smiled wider. “Very kind of you. My family will love it. We’re planning to hang it in the main lounge — the one where we gather in the evenings. My wife, the children, my mother. It’s where we live.”

And that’s when it happened.

You didn’t freeze. Not outwardly. But something inside you did.

That phrase. The way he said it — we live here.

You didn’t hear a lie. That was the problem. You heard sincerity.

You saw the portrait — Rafayel’s portrait — hanging above a mantel. You saw children playing on a rug beneath it. An old woman sipping tea in a chair nearby. You saw innocence. Unaware. Wrapped around a weapon.

And suddenly, all the scattered images connected. The rumors. The names. The “environmental” fund. The experimental projects tied to Lemurians. The disappearances.

He wasn’t here for charity.

Rafayel was hunting. And you were holding his arm like a lover while he did it.

It wasn’t the lie that made you pull away. It was the memory of all the ones that came before.

You stepped back. A breath lodged in your throat.

“I need a moment,” you murmured.

He turned. “Wait—”

You didn’t let him finish.

“Don’t.”

You turned away.

You needed air. Space. Time. You needed to stop hearing the echo of his voice in your chest, the one that said it’s different now, even when you knew it wasn’t.

But he followed. Of course he followed.

“Let me explain—”

“No,” you snapped, more sharply than intended. “No more explaining. That’s always the beginning of the lie.”

He reached for your arm. You stopped him with a look.

“I want to know one thing,” you said. Your voice was low, barely steady. “That painting… it’s a weapon, isn’t it?”

He hesitated. Just a breath. But it was enough.

“Not here,” he said softly. “Please.”

“There are children in that house, Rafayel. Children. How can you guarantee there won’t be innocent blood?”

His jaw tensed. The silence between you vibrated with unsaid things. Then:

“Come with me,” he said. “I’ll explain everything. But not in public.”

“Answer me.”

“I said not here,” he whispered. Not angry. Not cold. Just—desperate. Controlled. And that — more than anything — told you what you needed to know.

And that’s when it happened. The movement was too fast.

You heard it before you saw it — a hiss of compressed air.

Then the glint of metal. Then the needle, already buried in the side of Rafayel’s neck.

Everything shattered.

Rafayel stumbled, hand flying to the injection point. His eyes widened — not with pain. With realization.

Varrick stepped back with chilling calm, adjusting his cuff.

“I knew it was you,” he said simply. “The moment I saw your face, lemurian. I knew you were the one behind Raymond’s death.”

You didn’t wait for orders. Didn’t need permission.

You drew and fired — one shot. Silent. Precise. Varrick collapsed with a grunt of pain, clutching his leg.

You were on him in three strides. Knee in his chest. Barrel to his throat.

“What was in it?” you growled.

His breath rattled, half from the pain, half from the thrill of it all. He was enjoying this — the game, the brink.

“I’m not—”

You slammed the muzzle harder against his neck.

“Tell me. Or I swear, I’ll have your lungs painting that lovely family room of yours by morning.”

He laughed, blood in his teeth.

“Requiem Coral,” he gasped. “Gen-modified. Synthetic compound. It bonds to Lemurian blood — slow neural degeneration. Burns out the body one nerve at a time. Quite poetic, really.”

You stared at him. Then you fired again.

Between the eyes.

No poetry. Just silence.

***

You found Rafayel still upright. Barely. His pupils were uneven. Sweat glistened on his temple. His balance was shot.

You got under his arm, bore half his weight.

“No hospital,” he muttered.

“I’m not a moron,” you snapped. “We’re going home.”

You drove with one hand clenched around the wheel, the other wrapped tightly around his — clammy now, fingers twitching less and less.

The city blurred past like water through glass, useless. Silent.

He was slumped in the seat beside you, head tilted back, jaw clenched.

“Is this your version of a confession?” he muttered, voice paper-thin. “Waiting ‘til I’m half-dead to finally hold my hand?”

“Shut up,” you hissed.

He smiled — barely. “So harsh. Romance really is dead.”

You tightened your grip on his hand. His skin was cold.

“Don’t do that,” you said. “Don’t talk like you’re not about to die.”

“I mean, statistically—”

“I said shut up.”

Your voice cracked on the last word.

The rest of the ride was agony. You didn’t feel the road. You didn’t feel the turns. You felt him — fading beside you. His breath going shallow. His body heavy.

And all you could do was drive faster.

***

Your home wasn’t built for tenderness. It wasn’t a place to recover. It was a place to survive.

The door slammed behind you, and you half-dragged, half-carried him to the medical bench. He tried to help. He couldn’t.

He collapsed like a broken marionette, breathing hard, sweat cold on his brow.

You moved by instinct.

Antitoxin. Anti-inflammatories. Burn stabilizer. Anything. Everything.

Tubes. IV. Scanners.

Your hands didn’t shake — until you realized that nothing was working. His vitals dipped. Once. Again.

No improvement. And you weren’t a doctor. You weren’t a biotech. You were a weapon.

You could take a man apart in thirty seconds, but this — this—

You couldn’t fix this.

You hovered over him, swallowing panic, shoving down the scream forming in your throat.

He opened his eyes — only halfway. Saw the mess you were making. He lifted one trembling hand, and caught your wrist.

“Stop,” he whispered. “You’ll do more harm than good.”

You shook your head violently. “No. No, I can— I just need time—”

“There is no time.”

His voice was barely there.

“I don’t— I don’t know how to stop it,” you said, broken. “I don’t know how to fight it—how to save you—”

“Then listen.”

His eyes found yours.

“If this is it…” His breath caught. “If I’m not waking up from this—”

“Raf, no—”

“Then I want the truth.”

He looked at you like a man watching his own shadow disappear. Like someone who knew there was no second chance this time.

“No secrets. No lies. Nothing between us.”

You froze. And something inside you cracked.

The words came out on a sob.

“I know.”

He blinked slowly. “Know what?”

“I know you sold me out. N109 Zone. Five years ago.”

The air stopped moving. His lips parted, but no sound came.

You looked down, ashamed and shaking.

“I found the records. I connected the drops, the timing. You handed me over.”

There was a long pause. Then, suddenly — he laughed. A ragged, broken sound that became a cough.

“Oh, you—God.”

His smile was pained. Too pained.

“You wanted to reach Onichynus, remember?”

You looked up.

“There’s no easy road there. No clean path.”

He coughed again, winced, and gripped your hand tighter.

“I was watching. If things had gone wrong, I would’ve stepped in. I wouldn’t have let them break you.”

Your lips trembled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I didn’t trust myself not to stop you. I didn’t want you to look at me like you are right now.”

He coughed again — something wet in the sound now.

“I never betrayed you.”

His hand drifted to your chest, barely touching.

“You were always my heart.” He smiled faintly. “And when you left… you took it with you.”

You crumpled. Your hands went to his face, cold and pale, and your voice shattered into pieces.

“I didn’t know. I didn’t know. I thought— I thought you used me. Manipulated me. Like everyone else.”

His eyes stayed on yours.

“I would’ve died for you.”

“I know. I know now.”

Tears streamed down your face.

“I took your heart, Raf, but mine—” You pressed a hand to his chest. “Mine never left you. I… still love you.”

Your voice broke like a body under fire.

“God, I never stopped loving you.”

You leaned down, kissed his lips — dry, cold, still his. Your tears landed on his skin.

“Please,” you whispered. “Fight. Just… fight. Tell me what to do. Anything. Because if you die— if you leave me now— I swear—”

“I’m already leaving,” he said.

A beat. A breath.

“I don’t think anything can stop it.”

You shook your head. “No—”

“But there’s something you can do.”

You stilled.

“Take me to the sea,” he whispered.

His eyes were almost closed.

“If I die… I want the ocean to take my last breath.”

***

You helped him into the water, one arm steady around his waist, the other gripping his wrist as if holding on could somehow hold him here.

The sea was cold, even for nightfall. Each wave climbed higher, tasting skin and memory as it came. Rafayel leaned into you, too light, too quiet. His steps were uncertain, but not from fear. He wasn’t afraid. He was done.

By the time the water reached his chest, he stopped.

His breath caught. Not sharply — softly, like a curtain falling.

For a moment, under the pale gleam of moonlight, he closed his eyes. His features relaxed. And it struck you — how little color remained in his face. How glass-like his skin looked. Almost translucent. Almost not there.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words never found shape.

Because he let go.

He stepped back. And before you could stop him, before you could tighten your grip — he slipped beneath the surface and vanished.

No sound. No splash. Just absence.

“Rafayel.”

Your voice wavered, swallowed instantly by the dark. Then louder—

“RAFAYEL!”

But there was only the sea.

You surged forward, boots stumbling, breath catching in your throat as you threw yourself into the waves.

Cold bit into your spine. Your jacket dragged you down. Salt stung your eyes. None of it mattered.

You dove.

Once, five years ago, it had been the same. Different ocean. Same cold. Same fear.

You remembered that too well — sinking below the surface on a job gone wrong, your lungs seizing, your vision narrowing. And just before the dark closed in, it had been him who pulled you out. His arms, his breath, his voice.

Breathe, cutie. Come on. Breathe.

And now—

Now it was your turn to find him.

You kicked downward, deeper, into the black.

You couldn’t see. The moonlight didn’t reach this far. But you didn’t need to see. You needed to find.

The water grew colder the further you went. Each stroke slower, weaker. The pressure in your chest building, blooming like fire. Your hands swept forward, wide, desperate — fingers searching for fabric, for skin, for anything.

You found nothing.

The panic came slowly. Not like a scream, but like a slow tightening, a noose drawn carefully across your ribs. Your lungs began to burn. Your mind whispered it was too far. Too late. But your body refused to listen.

You kept going.

Until your arms stopped obeying. Until your legs stopped kicking.

Until your last exhale slipped from between your lips, and with it, the only word that still meant anything.

“Rafayel,” you mouthed.

And sank.

Everything stilled.

Time, sensation, thought.

And just as the darkness began to take you—

Something changed.

A pulse. Not from the sea. From inside.

Evol. Dormant until now — roared awake. But not with power. With purpose.

It didn’t surge to protect you. It didn’t scream in defense. It answered something quieter. Deeper.

A wish.

You weren’t trying to save yourself. You weren’t trying to rise.

You were trying to give him your heart back. To pour your strength into his veins. To reignite the spark inside him — even if it meant extinguishing your own.

Let me give it back. Let him live. Let me take the weight.

That was the prayer beneath your ribs, and Evol obeyed.

It moved through you like liquid fire, searing down to your bones, pulling from every corner of your being. It hurt. God, it hurt — not like dying, but like unraveling. You were emptying yourself willingly. Not out of fear. Out of love.

And then — resonance.

Not just from you. From him. Like something in the darkness roared back.

No. Not her. Not this way.

You felt it — a pull in the opposite direction. Not rejection. Not resistance. Reciprocity.

His Evol flared back — instinctive, involuntary, desperate. Refusing the gift. Refusing the cost.

He wouldn’t let you die for him. And you — you couldn’t let him die for you.

And so you were pulled. Not rising. Not flying.

Drawn back. Both of you. Together.

Because even now, even here — at the edge of everything — neither of you could bear to leave the other behind.

***

You came back coughing.

The world hit in pieces — salt on your lips, sand beneath your palms, the weight of your own chest struggling to rise.

And then—

Arms.

Not the ocean’s. His.

He was holding you. Soaked. Shaking. Alive.

His heartbeat thudded beneath your ear, ragged but real. His breath skimmed your temple. His fingers gripped your shoulders like he wasn’t sure whether to anchor you — or himself.

You opened your eyes. The sky swam above you, vast and starless.

And Rafayel’s face was there. Pale with exhaustion, hair clinging wet to his skin, eyes too bright in the dark.

You reached up, touched his cheek with trembling fingers. He leaned into it.

No words passed between you. There was nothing to explain.

“This,” you whispered, voice torn to ribbons, “is exactly where I want to be when I die.”

His mouth twitched, a ghost of a smile breaking through.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured, “next time we die.”

Your breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob.

“Raf…”

He hushed you with his thumb against your cheek, his gaze steady and quiet.

“It’s over.”

You shook your head. “But how—”

He didn’t answer right away.

Only looked at you, and for the first time in what felt like lifetimes, you saw it— light. Faint, buried, but alive in him.

“Cutie,” he said softly, “how could I keep dying when you needed me this much?”

The sound you made was broken, wild — grief and love tangled into one. You folded into him, arms tight around his shoulders, burying your face in his neck.

“Then you’ll have to live,” you whispered, choked, “for a long, long time. Because I need you. Every day. Every second. Every stupid heartbeat.”

He laughed — quiet and hoarse, and it felt like sunlight after rain.

“Another eternity, then. Sounds like a curse. Or a blessing. Maybe both.”

You pulled back just enough to see his face. Moonlight caught the water on his skin, and you felt like crying again.

“I was such a fool,” you said. “You shouldn’t have brought me back. I ruined everything. I wasted so much—”

“I’m not arguing,” he cut in gently. “But I figured… maybe you’d want to fix your behavior.”

A huff escaped you. Wet, shaky. Almost a smile.

“Will you let me try?” you asked. “Will you—can you forgive me?”

He didn’t even blink.

“Sweetheart,” he said, cupping your face in both hands, “this was never about forgiveness. Not really. Not about second chances or fresh starts.”

His thumbs brushed away the tears you didn’t realize were falling.

“We’re us. Flawed. Messy. Brilliant and brutal in equal measure. We hurt each other. And we heal each other.”

His voice dropped to a whisper.

“I forgave you a long time ago. I was only angry because I didn’t understand. I thought maybe—if I’d been softer. Or warmer. Or better—maybe you would’ve stayed.”

You closed your eyes, tears slipping free.

“I never left you,” you said. “Not really.”

“I know.”

He leaned forward. And kissed you.

Once — soft and slow, like breathing. Then again — deeper, like memory.

And when you kissed him back, there was no anger left. No questions. Just the weight of five years falling away between your mouths.

You broke away just long enough to murmur, “We almost died.”

He kissed the corner of your mouth.

“We’re always almost dying.”

You laughed, breathless.

“This is a terrible time—”

“There’s no better one,” he said. “You never know which kiss is the last. Which night is the edge.”

He pulled you to him again.

And beneath the moon, on wet sand and shaking limbs, you gave yourselves back — completely. No hesitation. No conditions.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t clean. But it was real.

You loved him like you remembered how. And he held you like he never forgot.

And this time, it didn’t feel like the end.

It felt like the beginning.

***

You woke to the sound of brush against canvas.

Soft, rhythmic. A whisper of motion. It tugged at something in your memory, something half-forgotten.

For a long moment, you didn’t move. Didn’t even open your eyes.

There was warmth on your skin — sun, blankets, and something else. You inhaled. Salt. Linens. Paint.

And him.

When you finally blinked into the light, it took a moment to understand where you were.

The room was high-ceilinged, the windows cracked open to the hush of waves. The bed was too big, sheets still tangled, your body aching pleasantly in ways that reminded you — yes, it was real.

Last night was real.

And then—

“Don’t move.”

His voice. Low. Focused. Familiar in a way that made your chest ache.

You turned your head slightly, and there he was.

Rafayel. Sitting on a low stool near the foot of the bed, bare feet braced against the floor, shirt half-unbuttoned, canvas before him. A brush in one hand, a palette balanced on his thigh.

You blinked at him. “What… are you doing?”

“I said don’t move.” He didn’t look up. “You’ll ruin the pose.”

“I wasn’t posing,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes. “I was sleeping. Possibly drooling.”

He finally glanced at you. A glint in his eyes — amusement.

“You were beautiful. Are. I wanted to keep this one.”

“Raf,” you said, stretching with a grimace, “I probably look like a tangled sea urchin. There’s still sand in places sand should never be. I need a shower.”

“If you let me finish, we’ll shower together.”

Your brows lifted. “Tempting bribe.”

“I know.” He smirked. “Also—note to self: never again sex on sand.”

“The ocean was too cold,” you teased.

“Not in my arms.”

That stopped you for a breath.

You smiled. A small, stunned thing.

And somewhere in the middle of smiling and remembering and wanting to kiss him again, you noticed something on the canvas. You squinted.

“Wait... is that yellow?”

He flinched. The brush stuttered.

And then—he groaned, deep and dramatic. “Dammit. Now I have to start over.”

You sat up on your elbows, eyes wide. “Was that my fault?”

He stood slowly, brush still in hand. “You moved. You talked. You ruined my masterwork.”

You grinned. “Your nude beach goddess masterwork?”

“Yes,” he said solemnly. “It was going to hang in the Met.”

“Well, in that case—” you started.

But before you could escape, he lunged — grabbed your ankle, yanked you toward the edge of the bed with a playfully feral grin.

You shrieked.

“Raf!”

“You destroyed art!”

“I was the art!”

You kicked. He caught your other foot.

Laughter spilled from your throat — loud, full, aching in your ribs. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed like this.

He climbed over you, breathless with mock outrage, and you tangled together in the blankets, in limbs, in joy.

You were still gasping when you murmured, “I’m sorry I can’t erase the past. Those five years... they’re etched into us. But I swear, I’ll spend every day trying to heal what I broke.”

His expression softened — all teasing gone.

“Cutie,” he said quietly, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone, “you still don’t see it, do you?”

You stilled.

“Last night,” he said, “you were ready to give everything. Your Evol, your life, your soul — for me. Even when you thought I wouldn’t survive.”

He leaned his forehead against yours.

“In that moment, I think even the gods cried.”

You closed your eyes.

“My wounds healed the second you chose to stay,” he whispered. “There’s barely even a scar left.”

Then his voice dropped lower.

“Just promise me something.”

“Anything.”

“Never disappear again. Not without giving me the chance to fight for you. Not in this lifetime. Not in any other.”

You didn’t hesitate.

You looked him in the eyes — and felt the weight of every mistake, every mile, every ache that had brought you back here.

And then you said, quietly:

“Even if all the oceans rise, even if this world burns and time eats itself whole — I’ll find you. In every life. I’ll find you, and I’ll stay.”

His lips parted. He didn’t speak.

He just kissed you.

And this time, it wasn’t for survival.

It was for everything else.

#love and deepspace #lads #rafayel love and deepspace #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #rafayel x you #storytelling #fanfic #fanfiction #angst #hurt/comfort #emotional #trauma #conflict #grief #second chances

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tonythr · 11 months ago

Text

We need to talk about the Pale King's foresight ability

Ok, I waited a very long time to make this post. The story of the Pale King is my favorite aspect of the whole narrative of Hollow Knight, and there's so much mystery surrounding it that I can't not think about it on a daily basis. There are a bunch of questions left unanswered, and I believe that most (if not all) answers were left in the game specifically so that players could interpret them the way they think is best. So I wanna see what interpretations ARE there and maybe pick one (or two. or three. or all of them. or maybe really just one.) I dunno. Anyway, the point is, this is probably gonna be a long one. Big shoutout to anyone who makes it all the way to the end.

Now, enough with the rambling. To the point.

It all starts with the mushrooms.

The part that started all this train of thought was this particular line.

Unlike other areas of the game, Fungal Wastes don't have a boss that correlates with the area's native species. The shrooms don't have a higher being they worship. They don't have a civilization. They don't have a Dreamer. All they have is this big old mushroom elder that sleeps eternally with this one thought in their mind. All this to say that this line here is *probably* hella important.

The lore tablets of the Wastes also echo it.

So keep this in mind: when the Wyrm, reincarnated as the Pale King, started building and expanding his Kingdom (it's safe to assume that he started doing that AFTER he turned into his bug form) and got to the part where he had to make an alliance with The Mushrooms, they agreed to be a part of Hallownest ONLY because they knew that the Pale King had an ability to predict the future. Remember, they looked down on all the bugs that weren't part of their mycelium-sharedSelf-mindUnited thing. They were perfectly happy with their way of life. They didn't need the Pale King's gift of mind. The only reason they agreed to accept his will was because of his foresight ability. They assumed that, since he can see what's going to happen in the future, he will protect them (along with the rest of his Kingdom) from any possible danger. And that was a smart decision.

And yet, it didn't work out. And not just for them. For the whole Kingdom.

The main question is why.

From the way the mushrooms talk about the Wyrm, we can assume that his foresight ability didn't quite suck, which is to say that he really COULD see a big part of what's going to happen. So basically, we have two possibilities:

A. The PK's foresight didn't allow him to see *too* far into the future. It had its limitations. Maybe he could see what was going to happen in an age from now, but he couldn't predict *everything*.

B. The PK's foresight could reach as far as all eternity, meaning he knew the 'Eternal Kingdom' was doomed to fail from the moment he started building it.

In any case, Elder Mushroom's words suggest that, at one point, PK actually KNEW his Kingdom was going to fail.

And, since the most important part of his story is his battle with the Radiance (like, what else would the Mushroom be talking about?), I think it means that he potentially knew that the Hollow Knight was going to fail, but created and Sealed it anyway. So, the question is:

If the Pale King could see that his plan of creating an empty vessel to seal the Radiance would inevitably fail, why did he go through with it in the first place?

Here's the first, most simple answer.

He knew that the Infection was inevitable, so he decided to postpone it indefinitely. Hit the snooze button, but make it last forever.

Actually, that's not even an answer. This is just a straight-up fact.

Hallownest is literally frozen in time.

(Actually, I think it's so frozen that sometimes it makes rocks levitate)

The Hollow Knight's sacrifice was made SPECIFICALLY so the inevitable arrival of the Infection could be set back for all eternity. That's why the game has a big leitmotif of night and day.

That's why the Radiance's main goal is for the Dawn to Break. Because she's the Sun, and what she's fighting against is an eternal night.

But now we're entering the mystery zone. There are two questions about PK's foresight ability that have to be answered in order to understand what's actually happening.

Question 1. Does freezing time also freeze the foresight? If the Kingdom is left in a stasis without a changing future, can PK still see past that stasis? Could he see when it would end? If so, could he see what will happen after it ends?

Question 2. Is Time actually predictable? Is there just one timeline where everything that happens was doomed to happen in the first place, OR are there infinite possibilities and some room for the free will? If so, can the future be changed if one knows what actions will have what consequences? And if so, are there things that are actually inevitable, no matter the choices?

Whatever the answers to both of those questions are, I want to emphasize this:

Those lines spoken by the Radiance, along with the Elder Mushroom's words about a demise unavoidable, as well as some other things I'll mention later, make me think that the Infection and the Radiance's rise to power is an event that was truly inevitable.

Here, it doesn't matter if the free will is real or not. Remember: in the Pantheon of Hallownest, the Radiance ranks higher than the Pale King. She is a candidate for a God of Gods title, the highest of the Higher Beings. So maybe PK could shape the future with his knowledge of it. Maybe his foresight actually protected his Kingdom by preventing some bad things that he, as a Pale Being, had power over. But the power of the Radiance was stronger than that. She had the strength to assert her dominating will in every possible timeline, so that, even with his foresight, the Wyrm couldn't do anything to stop the Dawn from Breaking. After all, it's the power of Nature itself - the day always inevitably comes to replace the night.

So that's the entire reason the King decided to use the Void in his battle with the Radiance. The Forgotten Light had the ability to conquer Fate. But the Void, in his own words, had the ability to deny Time itself.

So, even if the Infection was inevitable, the power of Void could either prevent it, postpone it, or straight-up defeat it. I think that the reason for this is that the Void possesses a will that is stronger than any Higher Being. The Night and Day can follow each other, but the force that represents the End itself is beyond that.

So, now we're gonna ask the REAL question.

With the Void being able to deny Time, could the Pale King see the future the Void's actions will bring?

And for that, I have two facts that suggest that PK, in fact, couldn't at least foresee SOME of the Void's choices.

The first one is the fact that the game has multiple endings.

Look into those eyes and tell me that they're looking at something that could have been predicted and prevented by a dead monarch, albeit a godly one. The existence of multiple endings tells us that free will IS real, at least for The Knight/The Shade Lord.

Oh and speaking of dead monarchs, here's the next fact.

That man is fucking dead.

The Pale King's whole deal was to last eternally, right? To build a life that would ensure his endless reign. To achieve immortality.

So if he could see what was going to happen after he let the Void into the picture, why would he still try that despite it clearly leading to his demise?

The nature of PK's death is mysterious, to say the least. He didn't just die of old age. He tried to run away, bringing his whole Palace along with him to the Dream World. He tried to run away from something - probably from the consequences of his own actions. But even that escape didn't save him from being killed. And what killed him was most definitely the Void.

The throne room is dark.

In fact, it's so dark that the Kinght has to pull out the lumafly lantern. The only other room in the entire White Palace where that happens is the workshop, where PK worked on creating the Kingsmoulds and the Wingsmoulds. The space is filled with black smoke and black particles - the same ones that are seen in the Abyss and many areas that are located above it. When the Kinght strikes the Pale King's body with the Nail, it sounds the same as striking a training dummy outside of Oro's hut, which is made out of a lifeless husk. It's like the Pale King's body was literally hollowed out.

The form that was given to the Void by the Pale King to create the Kingsmoulds guarding the throne room is lost here, implying that it gained some other will that was beyond the Pale King's control.

And again, the only other place we see something like that is the Palace Grounds in the waking world.

...Which are located just above the Void Sea. Also, the same smoke and particles surround the place, and black tentacle-like vines reach inside the body of the Kingsmould containing the Palace.

No need to doubt. It was definitely the Void that killed the Pale King.

But what does it mean?

Well, here's some important info about the Void. It is a manifestation of this world's regrets.

If you look deep enough, it makes a lot of sense for the Void to symbolize literal regret. The Shade is a manifestation of the Knight's regrets about what went wrong on its journey. The Void Sea in the Abyss is probably the regrets of the Ancient Civilization's dead bugs. And the Void that surrounds the Palace Grounds and the Pale King's throne room is a manifestation of his own regrets. That's why he couldn't escape from the Void even in the Dream World. Because you can't escape your own guilt, your own darkness, your own regret. That's also the reason why the Knight has the right to sit on the throne after striking down the Pale King: it's because, at that point, the Kinght is set on a path that includes facing its own regrets, accepting them and uniting them under its will. Something the Pale King failed to do.

But the question remains: what exactly were those regrets that the Pale King was running from and that ultimately killed him? I mean, of course, it's the whole deal with the vessels that he regretted, but I think there's more to that. I want to lay down a list of theories about his foresight. Each of them can also explain which specific regret got him the most.

Each theory would also change the interpretation of this famous line:

...Which is important. Obviously, this line refers to the Vessels being sacrificed in order to create a Pure one, but, depending on the possible range of PK's future vision, it can have an additional, deeper meaning. You'll see what I mean.

But first, there's some other issue here that needs to be addressed, that makes this whole discussion twice as complicated. It's all about this one line:

So, here's another fucking question. Does harnessing the Void by creating the Vessels and the Moulds make those creations a part of what the Pale King could see with his foresight ability?

There's some kind of scale here that varies from 'There are multiple endings that depend on that one Vessel's choice, so that means the Void is outside of the PK's ability to predict the future' to 'The Vessels and the Moulds are the Void that is harnessed by the Pale King, so his future vision applies to them as well; it's just that the Knight gains the power to choose the ending only when it takes control over its own Void by gaining the Void Heart'. So, what if the Pale King could foresee that the Knight would be able to defeat the Radiance in the dream world? What if he couldn't see the Knight's arrival at all? What if he COULD see it, but his vision only applied to the events of the Hollow Knight ending, the only one that doesn't include the Void Heart? What if even the Embrace the Void ending was visible to the Pale King after all, as one of many possibilities he didn't pay too much attention to?

But the Knight is one thing. What about the Hollow Knight? Was its failure a part of the future PK could see? Or, since THK is a Vessel too, its choices were off limits as well? What about the Kingsmoulds? Was the fact that they would succumb to the Void that was going to kill PK available for him?

None of these questions have a clear answer. Probably. Or maybe they do. But there are multiple explanations for what was really going on. I'll try to present them as a list of theories. Each of them will give us a different interpretation of the Pale King's foresight ability's true nature.

PK didn't know what the Void would do but decided to try using it anyway.

PK only saw that the Void would help the Hollow Knight seal the Radiance, but his vision was limited (either because it was limited by its nature (option A, see above), or because the stasis created by the void limited his abilities (question 1, see above)), and so he didn't see that the Hollow Knight would break.

PK knew the Hollow Knight was going to fail but doomed his Kingdom anyway.

PK only saw the timeline where the Knight seals the Radiance without killing her. Every other ending besides The Hollow Knight was beyond PK's foresight.

PK knew that there were multiple possibilities once the Pandora's box was opened, but he saw that one of those possibilities was the Void successfully sealing the Radiance and/or killing her, so he decided to roll the dice. So he could see that Dream No More was possible, but he didn't consider Embrace the Void.

Each of these theories holds some interesting interpretations. Let's take a closer look.

I'll use a timeline to mark the possible range of PK's vision for each theory:

Just to clear things out: when I talk about what PK could or couldn't see, I mean what he could or couldn't see while using his powers at any point before his death. It IS possible that he saw some things when it was already too late to do something. That's what I was talking about when discussing possibilities A and B above (so maybe he saw that THK would break before he even made the Vessels, or maybe he figured it out only after it got sealed). Every theory accounts for that. It's complicated. You know what? Nevermind this whole disclaimer. I'll get to it.

Theory 1. The Void neutralizes the future vision

Basically, what this means is that once the Void got into the picture, the Pale King could no longer use his powers in any meaningful way. The Void, being a will that denies Time, created too many different possibilities for the King to account for, yet he decided to go through with the Hollow Knight plan just because he didn't see any other option.

The line 'No cost too great' in this case might refer not only to the Vessels being sacrificed, but to PK's foresight ability itself. The cost is his future vision, sacrificed to a state of uncertainty that might or might not bring salvation.

If this theory is true, the Pale King's story is a story about a monarch who, in his efforts to save his Kingdom from a wild force of radiant nature, accidentally unleashed something far beyond anyone's control and paid for it not only with his main ability, but with his life as well. Both the Vessels' and the Abyss' actions couldn't have been predicted, and that's why PK accidentally allowed for the Hollow Knight to break and for the forces of the Abyss to overpower him with his regrets about the countless children he murdered.

The risk he took is his main regret.

The flaw of this theory is that, if it's true, it means that:

a) The Elder Mushroom was completely wrong about PK being able to foresee the second coming of the Infection.

b) Harnessing the Void doesn't do shit besides changing its form. Even while being contained inside a semi-sentient Vessel, its actions don't bend to the Pale King's will or his foresight ability.

All in all, this theory basically means that both Pale King's powers and his judgment sucked, and the whole collapse of Hallownest happened because he was incompetent, reckless and stupid.

(That's why I don't like it)

TL;DR: The Void does what it pleases regardless of the Pale King's future vision, and he was stupid for trying to use it.

Theory 2. The Hollow Knight's failure was beyond the Pale King's future vision

This is probably a very controversial one, but it does have some interesting implications. The point is that PK didn't see that the Hollow Knight would fail, and so he went through with the plan thinking it was flawless.

In this case, the Hollow Knight counts as a 'harnessed' part of the Void, so its actions up until its breaking were completely predictable. The Pale King saw that the Infection would be sealed successfully, and that a stasis would be created. He got what he wanted, but at some point (could be any point) he realized that he didn't know if anything was going to happen next.

That could happen for one of the two reasons:

The stasis created by the Pale King literally meant that the time was frozen, which meant that nothing relevant wasn't going to happen unless this stasis would somehow break. But, while inside this state of stasis, the Pale King himself couldn't see anything beyond that state. What future vision is there if there's no actual future?

The future vision was clouded by the Pale King's inevitable death. It's possible that, while looking into the future, PK couldn't see the Hollow Knight breaking simply because his future vision doesn't allow him to see beyond the moment of his own death.

Anyway, what this theory suggests is that the main thing the Pale King didn't or couldn't predict was his own death. Or maybe at some later point he saw it was coming and tried to run away from it by hiding his Palace, but the Void got him anyway. It happened because the Void that destroyed the Kingsmoulds' bodies and killed the Pale King was a force beyond anyone's control an beyond PK's foresight.

A major proof of that is the situation with this guy:

Notice how they apologize directly to the Pale King, and how the Void slowly took over their mind. This guy was a royal retainer, which means the King probably ordered them to keep the lighthouse running himself.

The question is, why did he take such a half-assed measure to keep a whole Sea of raw dark power at bay? It looks so stupid! Just one lighthouse for a whole unchecked Void Sea? And just ONE lighthouse keeper who couldn't even resist the Call of the Void? Why such carelessness?

The answer is right here. That was because the Pale King simply DID NOT KNOW what the Void Sea was actually capable of, because its power (unlike the power of the Void trapped inside the King's children's bodies) was beyond his foresight. Without a clear answer from his future vision, he figured that this Void might or might not be an issue and decided that he had more important stuff to deal with instead of even hiring a whole team to watch one lighthouse.

So, while he managed to reach his goal creating a stasis that would keep his Kingdom lasting eternally, there was one thing he didn't account for, and that was the vengeful wrath of the dark force he dared to use as his plaything. The lighthouse was turned off, and the Void soon started to rise up through the rocks of the Ancient Basin towards the White Palace. The King tried to run, hiding himself and his Palace inside the Dream World, but the Void seeped in easily, killing the monarch. After all, the Kingsmould that was used as a gate to the Palace was also made out of Void.

If this theory is true, then the line 'No cost too great' could refer not only to the Vessels, but also to himself. If he didn't know that the Hollow Knight would break, then he probably thought that his Kingdom WOULD last forever, and that even his own death wouldn't change that. So he sacrificed his own life, gave in to his regrets about everything bad he had done, but managed to save one glimmer of pride, thinking that, even though he killed a bunch of children and abused the Void, he still managed to deliver eternal happiness to all his subjects.

But the thing about this theory is that now we also need to explain why the Radiance broke free despite everything the Pale King thought he did. Here, this theory divides into two additional theories (I'm really sorry for this long-ass post):

Theory 2.1: The Radiance is like 'Nah, I'd win'

Basically, PK's plan to achieve eternal life for his Kingdom at the cost of his own life was actually good. There was no flaw in it, and it should've worked perfectly. But we know that the Radiance might be a being that is higher than PK on the power scale. So, just like the Void, her actions might be beyond what PK's foresight ability could help him see. PK did everything right (not morally), but the Radiance broke through anyway because she's just... that much better.

Theory 2.2: The death of the King is what triggered the whole thing

Going back to the Void's actions messing with the future the Pale King could predict, I say it's possible that his own death, caused by the Void, is what made the stasis wear off.

Think of it this way. The Hollow Knight contained the Infection, but that merely eliminates the possibility of a HIGHER FORCE enacting some sort of change. Preventing EVERYTHING ELSE from breaking the stasis is the job for the Pale King himself. But, once the Void (another higher force) kills him, there's no one that could keep the stasis running, and it just... ends. That gives the Radiance (as a force of change, opposed to a state of frozen time) an opportunity to break free.

Or maybe it was the Sealed Vessel that was affected by the Pale King's death. After all, we probably know what its only thought (the one that ruined everything) was:

So, the Pale King dies, the Hollow Knight senses that a familiar presence is starting to slip away, which makes the Vessel panic (or something like that), and the Radiance makes her move, infecting its mind.

OR it could be both of those things! Maybe the Hollow Knight's attachment to its father AND the Radiance's insane higher power both played a role in filling up the power vacuum that was left after PK died.

Anyway yeah, that's it for this theory. The only thing left to discuss is the new interpretation it gives us for the line spoken by the Elder Mushroom:

'A demise unavoidable', in this case, refers to the demise of the Pale King himself. He didn't necessarily foresee that his death would lead to the destruction of Hallownest, but at some point he might've figured out that the Void was coming to get him but decided to stick with his plan anyway. But then it raises the question of when and how the Elder Mushroom learned about the Pale King's demise, and why they assumed that he could see it coming. That's the main issue with this whole theory: it just doesn't explain how the Mushroom's line fits into all of this.

TL;DR: The Void killing the Pale King is the only thing that he couldn't foresee in the long run, and even if he could do that at some point, the consequences of his death AND/OR the Radiance's actions were beyond his control.

Theory 3. Self-fulfilling prophecy

Ok, so now we're on the theory that I personally consider the closest to canon, or at least the implications of canon that we have. This is also the one theory that brings (some kind of) consistency to this whole question. This is because it explains the earlier question of how the future vision actually works.

See, there's no way the Pale King actually knew that the Hollow Knight would break from the very start, right?

Why would he doom his Kingdom when all of his actions were meant to prevent that? In fact, that's exactly the question that the Elder Mushroom is asking.

"Pale Wyrm... What good to foresee a demise unavoidable?"

Well, the answer here is actually kinda simple this time.

He saw it coming, and he tried to postpone it.

This is the simplest explanation possible, because we already have all the proof right here on the table.

The King sees that the Infection will come, and that it is inevitable (the inevitability is the key part).

He knows that, when the predicted moment comes, the Radiance will return and wreck his shit. No matter the timeline, no matter the choice. The flow of Time itself inevitably leads to the Infection happening.

The only option is to use a force that is able to deny time itself. The solution is to use the Void to metaphysically freeze the very flow of Time itself. The plan is not to try to change what is meant to happen, but to create a stasis that makes it so that it never comes to it. The timer never reaches zero. The eternal snooze button.

The stasis, however, dampens the foresight ability. If there's no flow of Time, the King can't see what's going to happen.

[A little digression: For the purpose of proving this theory, let's say that the foresight ability works better the closer the observer is to the moment that is being observed.

For example, while looking into the future from a point in time before a big war, the observer CAN see that the war will end on a certain date, but only when that date comes closer to them can they see HOW the war will end, and WHO will end it, and any other detail.]

The stasis wears off because of the Radiance's power (like in theory 2.1).

The King is finally able to see the exact nature of the Infection breaking free. He sees that the Hollow Knight itself, the Vessel he personally created to be the only key to the Kingdom's salvation, will be the reason everything goes to hell.

Wracked with guilt and regret, he escapes to the dream realm before the break happens so that he can at least save himself and his palace.

The Void makes a move that the King could or couldn't foresee, killing him. He thinks about the 'no cost too great' philosophy one last time before realizing that it is, in fact, utter bullshit. He dies with a feeling of everything he built crumbling to dust and his core belief being proven faulty.

The Infection breaks free, having harnessed the Hollow Knight, as inevitable as always. With the King being dead, there's no power to uphold the time stasis, which becomes the final push. The Vessel breaks.

Only then the Kingdom sees the arrival of a void being that has the potential to actually change things from their set course. The Knight, being a part of the Void that was beyond the Pale King's future vision range, enacts an end of its own choosing.

This ties to the game's themes of determinism, and flashes out the Kinght's strength to break free from the fate's chains, empowering the player and making the whole plot twist with the final battle against the Radiance even more epic.

The monarch who justified killing his own children by his desire to prevent the higher will from destroying his artificially made Kingdom has succumbed to a force beyond his control, becoming a part of a self-fulfilling prophecy. The chosen hair of its father's will becomes the reason why the inevitable finally happens. The only one who is free of obligations, desires and beliefs becomes the one to save the Kingdom once and for all, avenging the deaths of its kin. Beautiful.

And the Mushrooms who probably just didn't believe in the stasis from the start turned out to be right, smugly reminding us that it was always inevitable and PK couldn't do shit. There's no good in seeing a demise unavoidable, and it's foolish to make sacrifices to postpone it.

What the Pale King lacked was acceptance. The ability to embrace the true nature of things.

Something that is the main ability and the main character arc for the Knight, whose nature is to consume and to use its will to make even the darkest shadows become a part of it.

A little spoiler though: this theory has another variation that is even cooler. I'll leave it for the very end.

TL;DR: The King knew that the Infection was inevitable from the very start. He tried to postpone it. He failed, becoming a part of a self-fulfilling prophecy. When he figured it out, it was already too late, so he fled and was then killed by the Void.

Theory 4. The Masterplan

Ok, so, while the previous theory was probably the one closest to the canon implications, there are still a couple of possibilities that make this WHOLE thought process worth the time spent on it, because the mere CHANCE of this one theory being true makes the whole game feel even more nuanced. It's not even necessarily correct, but it's not about that. Team Cherry made the lore surrounding the Pale King's foresight ability vague enough for us to feel it's POSSIBLE that the whole plot was predicted by him. And that's how this narrative works: it allows the players to come up with different interpretations of itself, never proving or disproving any of the theories that it inevitably creates inside our heads.

So anyway yeah, what if the Pale King knew that another Vessel would usurp the Hollow Knight? What if THAT was his plan all along?

So, let's discuss a very important question.

How was the Hollow Knight chosen among other vessels? Why did that one child become the Pure Vessel while millions of others were left behind?

Well, judging by these lines and by the Birthplace cutscene, the trial to be chosen as the Hollow Knight was to climb up from the Abyss.

But why? How does scaling a huge pit prove a vessel hollow, and devoid of thought? Is it about the strength? Is it about not caring about other siblings who fall down? Is it about controlling one's inner Void in order to not succumb to the regret of the whole situation? Is it something like a sperm and an egg thing? A bug thing? Maybe it's all of those things. Maybe it's none of them. One thing we can assume, though, is this:

The Knight also passed this trial. It could have become the Hollow Knight. The reason it didn't was because the Pale King didn't see it and the Hollow Knight didn't care about it.

But in the end, it was the same reason why the Kinght became a more worthy candidate.

Think about it this way. If the Void is what is needed to seal the Light, and if the Void is created and channeled through regrets and past pain, what could be a better fuel for it than a father's abandonment and a sibling's indifference? Passing the life's trial but losing a chance to live anyway creates the strongest darkness, and that darkness is the reason the Knight becomes the best Vessel possible to do this task.

But it's not the only trial the Knight had to pass in order to qualify for this role.

(Notice the phrasing used in the Quirrel comic - 'ascend to that fabled land')

We don't know how it happened (Team Cherry teased us once about revealing it), but the Knight not only escaped the Abyss through some other path, but managed to leave Hallownest and then come back, purified by the mind-wiping winds. That's what Hornet says about it, too - she specifically states that the Knight's resilience was born of two voids: the one that's outside of the Kingdom and the one that's below it.

And we also know that many other Vessels attempted the same thing.

So basically, had any of them been more successful at the quest the Knight did succeed at, the Kingdom could have had a greater, if not near-infinite, amount of replacements for the Sealed Vessel. One Knight takes the Infection inside of itself, holds it in until the Infection inevitably starts to break free, but then another Knight arrives, answering its sibling's call for help, and the cycle continues. Convenient, huh?

Sounds like a thing some very perceptive godlike monarch could come up with as a plan to save his Kingdom.

It could ALSO explain why there are SO MANY Vessels in the Abyss. Maybe it's not about the White Lady being crazy horny. Maybe it was a part of the plan (which included the White Lady being crazy horny) all along. A way to measure up to eternity by creating an amount of heirs that no one would be able to count. Yes, it IS finite, but with THIS many spare Vessels it wouldn't really matter.

That said, there ARE some flaws in this theory. First, there's no live Vessels in the Abyss, so the ones that survived the Pale King's trial probably either died or left the Abyss already. And it's likely that there weren't too many of those who escaped, so maybe there weren't enough vessels after all. But then again, it only takes one to save the Kingdom for multiple ages, so who knows how that would work.

Second, as far as we know, the Knight was the only one who had the potential to actually seal the Radiance once and for all. Letting weaker vessels try to usurp the Hollow Knight would mean risking the Kingdom. But then again, that's what Hornet was there for. On the other hand, even she was surprised with how the Knight was able to defeat her, so either she didn't know about the Masterplan, or it was never real in the first place, and the Knight IS the one unique Vessel who has the strength to save Hallownest for good.

Honestly, I'm inclined to agree with the latter assumption solely because of the narrative weight of the Birthplace cutscene. I mean, there was no other vessel that was in the same position as the Knight. No one else had that same experience of passing the Abyss trial just in time to see the first Hollow Knight walk away with its father, who then shut the door in their face.

But anyway, this theory is still pretty valid. If it's correct, it would mean that:

a) The 'No cost too great' line spoken by PK at the moment of his death basically means 'Whatever bitches, I may be dead but Hallownest WILL last eternally because I had those Vessels ALL FIGURED OUT, and there's SHIT you can do about it now!'

b) All who doubted PK's plan are proven wrong, and the Mushrooms' smugness is worth nothing.

c) The Pale King's future vision is fucking OP.

...Whiiiich yeah, makes the Pale King look like the coolest mastermind in all fiction, but at the same time takes away the tragedy of his whole story and the uniqueness of our dear beloved Ghost Knight. Still fun to think about it tho.

TL;DR: The King knew that the Hollow Knight would break, so he had every other possible Vessel in mind as a replacement. The new Vessel would be the one who survived the Abyss, escaped, left Hallownest, and returned at the call of the previous Vessel. With millions of Vessels born, the cycle could have been repeated so many times that it wouldn't matter when the Abyss would run out of Vessels.

Theory 5. The Masterplan but cooler

Now THAT's what I personally consider a big stretch.

See, for THAT theory to be correct, the Pale King should have known the EXACT moves the Knight (and only the Knight) would take in order to defeat the Radiance one way or another. He should have accounted for things such as:

The Knight being left in the Abyss in the exact way that it was; broken mentally by the chance that was taken away from it.

His own death.

The Knight arriving to Hallownest, passing all the tests, getting the Dreamnail, breaking the Dreamers' Seals.

The Knight becoming the new Sealed Vessel in at least two of the possible timelines.

The White Lady gifting the Knight her part of Kingsoul.

The Knight successfully entering the White Palace, finding the King's corpse, and taking the second half of Kingsoul.

The Knight returning to the Birthplace, getting the Void Heart and uniting the Void.

The Knight entering the Hollow Knight's dream with Hornet's help and actually killing the Radiance by making the Void consume it.

I think there's exactly a 0.00001% chance of that being the case. But hey, it's possible!

Actually, I don't believe that. It just doesn't feel like that's what the canon implications are about. And then again, if that theory is correct, why couldn't the King predict the Embrace the Void ending? And I do believe that SHADE LORD wasn't on ANYONE'S bingo card at all (except for maybe that one goth bug who gives us the Shade Cloak). Or did the King just decide to risk it all by defeating one God of Gods by creating another, much stronger one? I really don't think so.

I think the Void's will, as well as the Knight's, has the nature to defy any type of fate or future vision. And once the Knight gains the power of the Void Heart, the future of Hallownest is entirely in its hands, and its choice is now inherently outside of anyone's foresight.

TL;DR: The King predicted everything. Could he predict the Shade Lord though?

Theory 6 (the secret one). The 'human' factor

Ok, so, up until now, I discussed the possibilities the Pale King had with his future vision, and how said possibilities could influence his actions and the history of Hallownest as a whole, with the Self-fulfilling prophecy theory (of which this one will be an extension of) being the most plausible one. There's just one thing though. None of those theories really accounted for the possibility that, at some point, Pale King could've just not used his powers, or, more realistically, used them but chose to do something despite the information he got.

But why? What could possibly make him do that? The literal God of Mind, not being rational? Sounds like something that Team Cherry wouldn't fail to include in the game as an emphasized plot point. A lore piece so important must've been given some significant place, perhaps even locked behind some insane platforming gauntlet...

I swear, this one moment drives me crazy.

The Pure Vessel. The Sealed sacrifice. The Empty God. The Hollow Knight was created to be the one and only savior of Hallownest, of everything the Pale King worked so hard on. It was created not as an heir to its father's throne, not as his child, but as a tool to win a war that had been going on for ages. And we all know that it failed because it gained a mind, a will to live, a desire to crave happiness.

And this moment at the end of Path of Pain tells us exactly how it happened. The Pale King, being a god whose main power is to give bugs the ability to think, shared exactly one moment of pure fatherly affection with his empty creation. And that's all that was needed to plant the seeds of a mind-conquering disaster.

And right now I want to focus on the Pale King himself here. If you watch the cutscene, you'll notice that he is the first to turn his head towards the Hollow Knight. He was the one who initiated this moment.

And one might ask: why? Didn't he know that that could lead to the Vessel having a thought that was terminal for the whole plan? Couldn't he PREDICT that him showing even an ounce of affection towards this hollowed-out child would ruin everything he built? His whole Kingdom, his whole dream, his whole civilization? WAS HE STUPID?

But hear me out. What if what we're looking at here is not the Pale King messing up his entire career as a monarch, but him actually achieving the only thing that could satisfy him? Think about it. Who knows how much time he spent in his workshop trying to harness the Void. Millions of his children were left for dead, locked inside a horrible bottomless pit as bones and shadows. Three of the Kingdom's greatest bugs agreed to sacrifice their lives for the King's plan. All so he could achieve what he considered perfection. The impossible ideal. All the struggles of this Kingdom led to the creation of that one being. And when the Pale King knew he had succeeded, there was nothing left to strive for. Finally, he could allow himself to be satisfied. To forget about the greater good. To forget the never-ending battle. To live.

To love.

And maybe at that point he refused to use his future vision. Or maybe he knew that this would ruin everything. Maybe he always knew. For that moment, none of it mattered. The god of mind finally experienced something that had nothing to do with rationality. And once that happened, nothing else mattered anymore. No cost was too great for this one moment.

And so, nothing that happened after that mattered as well. The King's radiant enemy would soon take his Kingdom. His beloved Queen would go into exile. He himself would not be able to fight the regrets of his dark past and would soon cowardly flee from the waking realm, only to be killed on his throne by the very power he so foolishly used to achieve his goal. But at that point that goal didn't matter to him anymore. He was ready for the eternal Void, because he had already achieved the only thing worth achieving.

Too bad that meant he would doom millions (if not billions) of live creatures and make the only being he could actually love experience the cruelest torture unimaginable. Too bad that, when gods attempt to achieve a higher ideal, countless souls must suffer. Too bad that because of that one achievement everything Hallownest was had to end.

But everything ends at some point. That's one of the main themes of this game, and the idea that I believe is represented by the Void. The Knight arrives to reap the sins of its creator, witness secrets sealed, bring some hope to a ruined land, and enact the end of an era. Only a silent agent of change is there to witness the dark consequences of the Wyrm's quest for happiness.

Neat theory, right? Now guess which one is my favorite!

TL;DR: The Pale King realized that the act of loving his child is worth sacrificing everything he worked for, so, even knowing that sealing the No-More-Hollow Knight would doom Hallownest, he decided that his life has already peaked anyway and that there's no point in trying to do anything anymore. He knew that he was cooked though, so he fled and died only with the closest circle of family and friends to keep him company.

----

The post is over now. Big, bigger, yet bigger, the biggest thanks to anyone who genuinely made it through to the end. My grammar is probably flawed as fuck tho, because English is not my native language, so please cut me some slack in that regard. I hope what I was saying there was at least somewhat cohesive. I also hope that the more obscure bits of information I used (like cut dream dialogue) didn't throw anyone off the thought train. It's probably gonna be a big deal when I release this post, so I probably will be coming back to it. Any discussion, as well as disagreement, is always welcome! Please just let me know I didn't write all this for nothing lol. Thanks again!

TL;DR: Skill issue.

#hollow knight #hollow knight theory #hollow knight lore #pale king #hallownest #the radiance #the hollow knight #shade lord #fungal wastes #hk godseeker #path of pain #future vision #character analysis #long post #the pale king

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rewvyu · 2 months ago

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A Veteran CN Stylist's lament: Feels like Miraland is fading away

Today I came across a post that I felt compelled to share, because I really do understand and feel where the OP is coming from. I hope that Stylists around the world know that if you're feeling the same way, you are not alone.

Translated from a Xiaohongshu post by a Nikki games veteran: (my note: As this is translated by me, there may be some error here and there. I have changed some wording to provide better context instead of providing a literal translation.)

How should I even start? I have been playing Nikki series games since the 2010s, although I am not a very active player, I have always paid attention to each series. I am heavily invested in the story from Love Nikki, I can even name every nation's speciality, locations, important characters, and even the current storyline. It is also from Love Nikki, I fell in love with Nikki because she represent a gentle yet determined girl. I was filled with excitement and anticipation when Infinity Nikki was announced as the open-world version of Miraland, because I want to see and experience the world of Miraland and its beauty. However, the story development since launch till now has been filled with disappointment. I couldn't feel the connection with the world, and even more-so I couldn't feel immerse, this is exacerbated and reinforced by constant flip-flopping by the developer. Especially since the beginning, Pear-Pal which shares the same pronunciation as 'No Stress' [context: Pear-Pal in mandarin is '美鸭梨—mei ya li' and 'No Stress' is '没压力—mei ya li'], which is a tablet that the Stylist Guild have handed out. Every Stylists have this personal tablet, which is something that Stylist can feel associated with. However, the developer have since changed the design, in 1.5 update it has become clear that Pear-Pal is merely just a User Interface (U.I.) to them and with this changes it have lost it meaning and association to 'No Stress'. The pages within Pear-Pal which was supposed to be design and made by the Stylist Guild in collaboration with Kilo the Cadenceborn, a blue dragon, to be filled with knowledge of outfits and cultures accumulated over the many years of Miraland history has now been reduced to season names instead. Now, do you really think that the Stylist Guild and Kilo will do that? The answer is no, so this lore has now disappeared. Within the current storyline, a Snow Mermaid appeared in the Sea of Stars and Serenity Island, what is the reason behind all these? Did the developer ever considered this before? Why did Nikki became the Snow Mermaid during the destruction of the Sea of Stars? I do not mind that this new generation of Nikki game have a new story setting, but now I don't even get it any more. Whether if it is related to earlier Nikki games' lore, and whether if it is Infinity Nikki base logic or character-building, none of it gives me a sense of belonging to the world and all I feel is just emptiness.

#nikkiverse #infinity nikki #love nikki #shining nikki #nikki #miraland #nikki cn

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dollyswishingwell · 11 days ago

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ᯓ★ˎˊ˗ Mama’s Princess P.14

𝒲𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓃𝓉𝑒𝒹 𝒻𝑜𝓇 ˙⋆✮ Rafayel, Zayne, Xavier, Sylus, Caleb

𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒/𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 ˙⋆✮ Fluffyyyy, reader being a protective mama, very much based off my own mother lol, the boys being good husbands who listen to their wife

> ࣪𖤐.ᐟ You will home school your baby girl

Masterlist

𝙍𝙖𝙛𝙖𝙮𝙚𝙡 °‧🫧⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Your arms were wrapped tight around your precious babygirl, the two of you curled up on the plush fainting couch in your artfully decorated sunroom, pastel curtains drawn, soft light painting your matching pink robes in a gentle glow. Her little cheek was pressed to your chest, eyelids fluttering as you brushed your fingers through her lilac curls.

“She’s too small,” you whispered, eyes glassy as you looked down at the little girl who looked so much like Rafayel, same soft features, same lashes, same dainty little pout when she dozed off. “They want me to send her to daycare? To preschool? At her big age of two and a half? Am I a joke to this city?”

“She’s advanced,” Rafayel murmured, already lounging at your feet with his cheek against your leg, scrolling through something disinterestedly on his tablet. “Her cognitive patterning is off the charts. That’s why they suggested it.”

“They can keep their suggestions,” you snapped quietly, protectively covering your daughter’s ears. “What do they even do in preschool? Sit in a circle and eat cheese sticks? She already knows her ABCs and half the constellations, because I taught her myself—while baking.”

Rafayel looked up lazily, blinking with those dreamy mismatched eyes. “Love, no one’s forcing her. You sound like you’re preparing for war.”

“She cries when I leave the room for ten seconds,” you said, voice cracking. “What makes them think she’ll be fine being dropped off like a package? And what if she forgets I’m her mommy? What if she calls another woman mama?”

That got him. His tablet thunked to the floor.

“She’s not calling anyone else mama,” Rafayel said immediately, now fully sitting up. “That’s sick. Who even made the suggestion?”

“It was in that stupid parent packet. Something about building independence and socialisation. But my babygirl has me. She doesn’t need strangers or snotty-nosed toddlers teaching her to snatch or bite. And if she’s socialising with me, she gets emotional intelligence, grace, and couture.”

Your daughter stirred a little, rubbing her sleepy eyes and mumbling something about you being soft and warm. You kissed her chubby cheek like a shield, glaring protectively over her head.

“She is going nowhere without me.”

Rafayel gave you that lazy smile, the one that meant you’ve already won. He draped himself over the side of the couch, one hand playing idly with your frilly robe ribbon, the other gently stroking his daughter’s back.

“So we homeschool?” he said. “Hire twelve specialists, rotate them weekly, create a custom curriculum of space physics and watercolor painting. Make a cute little uniform. Pastel sailor collars.”

You blinked.

“…That’s actually perfect.”

“I know.” He grinned, eyes gleaming with amusement. “She gets one-on-one education. You get to be clingy. I don’t have to see either of you cry at a drop-off. And we get to act like you’re the queen of an exclusive finishing academy.”

“I am the queen of an exclusive finishing academy,” you muttered, kissing your baby again. “It’s called ‘Being My Daughter 101.’ And she’s valedictorian.”

Rafayel laughed softly and leaned in to kiss your cheek, then hers. “I’ll text the staff. We’ll convert the east studio into a learning suite. She can start next week with Fairy Tale Lore and Beginner Cello.”

“And I’ll be right there with her,” you murmured, voice sticky with emotion as your daughter finally drifted fully asleep in your arms. “Because no one will ever take her from me.”

Rafayel nuzzled your temple. “They’d have to go through me first.”

And that was that.

The next morning, Thomas received a cancellation letter for all preschool appointments, and an additional task:

To Do:

• Fire anyone who suggests separating mama from babygirl ever again.

• Hire the top ten tutors on the continent.

• Order a miniature baby desk to match her mommy’s tea vanity.

• Deliver daily croissants to the classroom. No raisins.

Signed,

Her Royal Highness the Pretty Housewife

𝙕𝙖𝙮𝙣𝙚 ⋆꙳•❅‧*₊⋆☃︎ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

You stood in the middle of your kitchen, barefoot and furious in a pale pink satin robe, arms protectively crossed as Zayne read the early education enrollment packet you had aggressively slapped onto the counter moments ago.

“She’s two,” you hissed. “Two, Zaynie.”

His calm hazel-green eyes lifted from the paper. “They said she’s ready. Cognitively ahead for her age. Social skills well-developed.”

“She only has good social skills because she mimics me,” you snapped, jabbing your manicured finger at the paper. “She’s polite because I taught her to say ‘please’ for every tea party snack and scolded her for forgetting her thank-you kisses. Do they think a bunch of sticky-fingered little strangers are going to teach her better than her own mother?”

Zayne exhaled quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose, still in his perfectly pressed dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. “You’re emotional.”

“Of course I’m emotional! My baby, my sweet, chubby-cheeked mamas girl, is being scouted like she’s some kind of prodigy, and all they see is her data. You think they care about her naptime rituals? That she needs her bunny and her blanket and five kisses before she sleeps?”

Zayne was quiet.

“She still cries when you go to the hospital in the morning,” you said, voice cracking slightly now. “She screams if I even pretend to leave the house. She sleeps on my chest, Zayne. And now I’m supposed to just drop her off with people who don’t even know how she likes her strawberries sliced? Are you insane?”

He finally moved, stepping around the counter and gently taking your face in his hands. “Look at me.”

You did.

His voice softened. “You know I trust your judgment with her more than anyone. But I also want to make sure she’s not missing opportunities just because—”

“We are rich, Zayne.” Your eyes were wide, defiant, sparkly with emotion. “We are influential. You are a literal heart surgeon. We could fund our own school if we wanted to. Why would I ever send her away when I could keep her with me and build something better?”

Zayne was silent again. Then: “…You want to homeschool her.”

“I want to curate her childhood, Zayne. I want to make sure her world is beautiful and warm and full of love. I want her to learn astronomy from the telescope on our balcony, literature from my lap, and math with cookie shapes in our kitchen.”

“She’d never leave your side.”

“Exactly. Because she doesn’t want to. Because she’s a mamas girl. And I’m a mama who doesn’t let her precious baby cry in a stranger’s arms.”

He let out a soft sigh. “You’re not going to budge on this.”

“Not even if you showed me statistics from Harvard themselves,” you said firmly, holding his gaze. “My baby girl stays home.”

Zayne was quiet for a long beat, then nodded.

“Fine,” he said. “We’ll convert the second study into a home classroom. I’ll have the pediatric development specialist visit weekly. You’ll build the curriculum with them.”

You blinked. “So… we’re doing it?”

He leaned in and kissed your forehead, then your pouty lips, and finally bent down to kiss the top of your daughter’s head as she clung to your leg sleepily.

“You win,” he murmured. “You always do.”

You sniffled dramatically and scooped your baby up. “That’s because I’m her mama. And no one protects her like I do.”

Zayne’s phone buzzed. He silenced it immediately, not taking his eyes off you and your daughter.

“I’ll call the school and decline the offer,” he said. “…And then I’ll send the full education stipend to you, Dr. Housewife.”

You smirked. “I accept. Now excuse me while I go design her monogrammed learning folders and print her first homework assignment: Give Mommy 20 Kisses Before Nap.”

𝙓𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙧 ⋆⭒˚.⋆🪐 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

You were curled up in the middle of your bed, wrapped in layers of lace-trimmed blankets, your pastel phone tossed aside as you held your daughter close, her tiny arms clinging to your frilly nightgown, her head resting beneath your chin.

Xavier stood quietly at the door, holding a flyer someone had rudely slipped into the mailbox this morning.

“Love,” he murmured, voice gentle, “someone from the Deep Space Child Advancement Board sent a message.”

“I read it,” you said flatly, not looking up. “I considered printing it out just so I could burn it.”

His blue eyes blinked slowly. “…You want to set government mail on fire?”

“They want to take her from me.” You kissed your daughter’s soft cheek, glaring past her head like someone had personally declared war on your soul. “They want me to drop off my two-year-old baby with strangers. In a sterile cube with bright lights and overly cheerful educational songs. Xavier, they want to socialise her.”

“…That’s the crime?”

“Yes,” you snapped, finally looking up at him with glassy eyes. “She is the sweetest, softest little thing in the world. She only ever says please, thank you, and ‘mommy you’re so pretty.’ Do you think I want her spending eight hours a day with feral children who throw blocks and eat crayons?”

Xavier blinked again, thoughtful. “…You do paint a compelling image.”

“She needs me,” you said firmly, holding her tiny hand to your cheek like a precious artifact. “She sleeps beside me. She panics if I’m not in the same room. She follows me around while I do my makeup and hands me my lashes one by one like I’m royalty. She’s a mamas girl and she was built that way. You think a daycare can handle that kind of emotional nuance?”

Xavier crossed the room, quiet and slow, and knelt beside the bed.

“She’ll cry if we make her go,” you whispered. “And then I’ll cry. And then you’ll have to hold both of us while we sob and cling and beg to be reunited. So let’s skip all of that and just admit the truth.”

He raised an eyebrow slightly. “Which is?”

“We are rich and unreasonably clingy. I will homeschool her. I will curate her lessons. I will hire a harpist to play in the background during her fairy tale modules. I refuse to let her leave this house unless it’s to attend a princess etiquette tea I personally planned.”

He was silent for a long moment. Then he leaned in and nuzzled your cheek, speaking in that dreamy, low voice he reserved only for you and your daughter.

“…We’ll turn the upper sunroom into her private classroom. Morning lessons, nap in your arms, and late night stargazing for science credit.”

You blinked. “Wait. You’re agreeing with me?”

“Of course.” He gently kissed your temple, then pressed one to your daughter’s chubby cheek. “You’re right. She’s too soft for the world. And so are you.”

“She’s not going to school ever,” you murmured as he curled into the bed beside you, tucking the both of you under his arms. “You’ll have to pry her out of my cold, glittery, pastel-painted hands.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said softly, already half-asleep. “I’ll call the Board and tell them the baby’s spiritual development is best maintained in her natural ecosystem: attached to your hip.”

You sighed in relief, burying your face into your daughter’s soft curls. “Thank you, baby. We’ll name our homeschool… Moonlight Academy. Or ‘University of Mommy.’ I’ll design the crest.”

“Put stars on it,” he mumbled against your skin. “And lace.”

𝙎𝙮𝙡𝙪𝙨 ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°✩

You were sitting in the middle of your walk-in closet, lace robe bunched around your thighs, face buried in your daughter’s soft, chubby neck, as you cried. Not the quiet, elegant sniffles Sylus had seen you do when watching romantic movies. No, this was full-on, ugly crying. The kind that soaked your collar and left you hiccuping into your baby’s curls while she patted your cheeks with her tiny hands, confused but clingy.

Sylus stepped into the room silently, dressed in a crisp black shirt, sleeves rolled up, red eyes sharp, until they landed on you.

His jaw clenched.

“What happened?” His voice was already low, warning.

You looked up with glassy eyes, mascara smudged prettily under your lashes. “They said—” You hiccuped, cradling your daughter tighter, “—they said she should start preschool, Sylus.”

He blinked, and you could feel the way the air shifted. Dangerous. But controlled.

“Who,” he asked slowly, “is ‘they’?”

“Some advisor from one of your stupid elite boards. They sent me a file. An entire pitch. And do you know what it said, Sylus?” You were trembling now, voice shrill with betrayal. “It said she needs independence. That it’s healthy for her to leave her mother’s side!”

You wailed softly into your daughter’s shoulder. “She doesn’t even like being held by anyone else! She hides in my skirts and cries when I go to the bathroom without her! She’s my babygirl, my kitty, and they want me to just… abandon her for eight hours a day??”

Your daughter was trying her best to hold you back now, her tiny voice whispering, “Don’t cry, Mommy, I’ll stay wif you. I wanna stay wif you forever.”

Sylus’s heart cracked, and it showed, only in the way he exhaled slowly and sank down onto the floor across from you. All his power, all his icy composure, and here he was, kneeling in his wife’s closet, looking at his sobbing princess and their wide-eyed daughter who was clearly her mother’s clone in soul, his in face.

“I’ll make the calls,” he said calmly. “Anyone who mentioned separating the two of you will be immediately removed from any decision-making process. Permanently.”

You sniffled, glaring at nothing. “Don’t you have literal global influence? Why would we need daycare when I can curate a private curriculum? She can learn politics from you and princess etiquette from me. I’ll homeschool her and let her nap in my lap and teach her real skills, like how to glare when someone tries to touch her hair.”

Sylus watched you spiral, then reached forward and gently cradled your face in one hand, tilting your teary eyes up to his.

“You are not sending her away,” he said softly, brushing a damp strand of hair from your cheek. “You’re mine. She’s yours. That makes her untouchable. You want her home? She stays home. End of discussion.”

Your lip trembled again. “You promise?”

He kissed the center of your forehead. “I’ll build her a classroom next to your dressing room if that’s what you want. Fully staffed, pastel-coded. Tutors will enter only when summoned. If they look at her wrong, I’ll send them to Antarctica.”

Your daughter nodded seriously like she was also in agreement with the execution orders.

You let out a wobbly sigh of relief and collapsed against his chest, holding both your daughter and your husband tight as the last of your sobs faded.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice hoarse. “I just… I want to keep her little. I want her with me. I don’t care what they say.”

Sylus kissed your head again, eyes sharp over your shoulder.

“I built this empire so you could rule your world. So go ahead, kitten. Create your tiny kingdom. She’ll be your princess.”

A pause.

“And anyone who tries to take her away from you will vanish without a trace.”

You sniffled, finally smiling through your tears. “You’re so romantic when you threaten people.”

𝘾𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙗 ⋆｡ ‧˚ʚ🍎ɞ˚‧｡ ⋆

You didn’t even try to be subtle.

The moment the word preschool left his mouth, your face fell, lips wobbling, hands gently stroking your baby girl’s back as she sat in your lap chewing on a biscuit with zero idea her whole world was about to be challenged.

Caleb was still talking. “It’s just a preliminary inquiry, pipsqueak. They reached out since she’s showing early cognitive dev—”

“No.”

One word. Small. Soft. But final.

He blinked. “Pips, I wasn’t saying yes. I was just—”

You sniffled. He froze.

Your voice cracked just a little. “She still sleeps on my chest. She cries if I leave the room. She brings me my lip gloss and says, ‘here Mommy, so pretty.’ You want me to let her go to a building with strangers?”

Caleb’s mouth opened. Then closed. His hands twitched like he was either about to cradle you or burn down the school.

“I know you’re used to commanding fleets and delegating missions and sending people away on rotations,” you whispered, eyes welling. “But I don’t do that with my baby. I don’t leave her. She needs me.”

Your daughter looked up at you, mouth covered in crumbs. “Me stay wif Mommy. No go anywhere.”

And that? That was it.

Caleb reached over the table and scooped you both into his arms without another word. Strong arms wrapping around your waist and your baby, holding you tight, like you were the only two living things in the world that mattered. Because to him, you were.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured into your shoulder, voice already raw. “I’m sorry, pipsqueak. I wasn’t thinking. Don’t cry.”

You buried your face in his neck, holding your daughter close between you. “She’s just a baby. My baby.”

“She’s ours.” He kissed your hair, then your daughter’s head. “And she’s not going anywhere.”

You sniffled, still not fully trusting him. “You’re not just saying that?”

“I’d rip my own heart out before letting you cry like this,” he said fiercely. “You were my baby before she ever existed, and now she’s your baby. So I protect you both. End of story.”

“She can stay with me forever?” you asked in a small, pouty voice.

“She can sleep in your lap until she’s forty if that’s what you want.” He kissed your tear-streaked cheek, then her chubby one. “I’ll fund your curriculum. I’ll design the uniforms. You want matching Mommy and baby notebooks? I’ll have them custom embroidered in Skyhaven silk.”

Your daughter clapped at the word “matching” even though she didn’t know why.

You nuzzled your nose against his, finally smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you more,” he murmured. “Now tell me where to build her little classroom, and I’ll start on the renovations tonight. No one touches my girls.”

He tucked you both against his chest like you were the most precious things in the universe, because to him, you always would be.

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regnumveritatis · 2 months ago

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(Trigger warning for discussion of child murder and ableism)

Hey guys. I went down the rabbit hole of ancient roman history in my quest to create the historical equivalent of Nerio Fides for Arsinoe in Roman times whilst still trying to spread real facts when I'm writing. Some of her assigned roles like protection of towns went to Hercules and they had Aediculus – The Roman god of architecture who presided over the construction and preservation of buildings. In Roman mythology, there isn't a single, dedicated god of nets. The closest equivalent is associated with the Greek goddess Britomartis, also known as Dictynna, who was a Cretan goddess of hunting and fishing nets. (I'm thinking of having her be adopted by Annabeth since the Minoics paint her as a child). In Roman mythology, she is sometimes associated with Artemis (Diana) and is known as Dictynna. I did make one of Arsinoe's sacred plants nettles for its textile use and the fact it had no deity tied to it, which means the Romans usurped it since they consecrated the plant to Mars (agriculture itself was split between Mars, Ceres and Jupiter). And when my search went into town laws I found something that would realllllly piss Annabeth off in terms of her personal beliefs that's not explicitly town related: the Twelve Tablets of Rome saying disabled children should be put to death, usually by stoning. This parted from the belief anyone with a ‘visible deformity’ was better off stoned to death before their life impacted the livelihood of other citizens.

Some disabled children were publicly persecuted, while others were reportedly thrown in the Tiber river which I think would be extra painful for those who remembered Arsinoe as I've been writing the riverbed as the central building point for most of her temples per the focal point of civilizations being founded near the river. (Also basing this off the idea of temples in ancient greece tried to be near the gods/goddess's domain as seen with how the temples of Artemis were situated as near to the wild as possible and Demeter's were near the crops).

Those with visible disabilities that were allowed to live were mutilated to increase their value as beggars. (Which actually adds a lot of weight to Hermes taking in *everyone* in his cabin since he'd also be hosting all these people butchered by the state, even without this lore his crashout is a lot more valid than assumed considering how they turned throwing a stone from a tribute to him into the start of state approved murder). Whilst the practice was similar to the custom of leaving children born unsuitable to combat to die in Sparta and thus easily accepted, it caused a fury in Delphi as the blind population was sacred to Apollo believing that they were better suited for clairvoyance. Athens and Lemnos also disputed the rule since children with difficulties walking were usually used as blacksmiths being similar to the god Hephaestus thus losing them a valuable workforce (not very ethical from a modern standpoint as most of the people discussed were slaves but better than outright killing people).

The eugenics policy of ancient Rome was further empathized in the reign of Commodus who organized the 'crippled' and put them all in fights to the death in the Coliseum. These were actually seen as the least controversial of his gladiator fights, the citizens being more outraged at the Emperor fighting than his massacre of the 'dead weight' of the population.

So with this I suggest for the defilement of Arsinoe that those mutilated be branded with her roman mark since her new iteration is cold hearted and sees them as enemies of the state. Athena and Hephaestus and Hermes and Apollo would still have ptsd flashbacks if they see anything resembling that mark. And/or dressed as her greek devotees before being led to their deaths in the arena in a mockery of her suppresed cult. It's still a way to kill people in Camp Jupiter albeit with traitors who get called 'cripples' because of their uselessness because no one with any sort of physical impediment wants to be around them. Any suggestions for her Roman name and how the Roman camp would 'honor' her? Or is there already one and I'm just unaware?

#ancient history #ancient rome #arsinoe athenide #athenide twins au #athenide au #content warning #the gods need therapy #camp jupiter

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sabotsen · 3 months ago

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Compiling a collection of Salvador lore before the event ends and all these crumbs disappear. They are literally driving me insane with grief.

First off, a collection of the stage stories with notes on the title changes for certain ones.

Stage 1: Request (levels titled "Claim" & D-tide level titled "Demand")

Stage 2: Struggle (levels titled "Contest", "Struggle", "Contention" & back to "Struggle")

Stage 3: Reproach (levels titled "Accusation" & D-tide titled "Condemnation")

Stage 4: Paranoia

Stage 5: Repentance (levels titled "Confession" & D-tide titled "Repentance")

The stage descriptions echoing his history/story and how they fucking lynched and burned him at the stake for not "saving them" as they wanted .... oughhh ⚰️

Within the stages themselves ofc you have the boon events. There are three of them.

First one is Desire and at first your only choice is to either face or turn away from the darkness.

[Choice chosen above was facing the darkness]

Later you get the chance to interact in the darkness again.

You’re actually encouraged to face the darkness here and get a sinful boon and, later on, pick up as many symptom cards as you can. The more “ill” and “broken” you are by the time you reach the final event, the “better” your rewards.

The second event is Repent.

If you chose to face the darkness in the first event, the result is often (in my opinion) much better than the random gold relic you get.

The final event is Redemption, which has various branches within it. At first you can only choose to seek external object or ask for blood. As you unlock the event nodes, you can ask for more. You can only ask for more, however, if you are carrying enough symptoms — in other words, you have to be “ill” and “demanding” enough. At that point, you can ask for flesh or his very soul to cure you.

There’s… there’s SO MUCH …. Here…. The fact that he so casually carves out pieces of flesh and bone to press into his tablet to heal people is fucking awful. His skin is littered with scars and stitches, I had no idea it was from himself carving offerings to demanding members of his flock. The fact that he is so willing to pull out parts (if not the whole) of his goddamn soul and use that to heal people when his own flesh and blood is not enough…..

Salvador……

Ending my grief with the event nodes, which make me want to SCREAM.

I’m sure you can interpret it as 3 separate people coming to him but honestly I see it as three halves of his own heart/soul: the sinner, the mottled, the ‘faithful’. Three, which is already such a meaningful number in religion to begin with….. and the fact that even the ‘faithful’ soul (colored grey) starts out on the path constructing a church for purely selfish reasons. Even later in that node’s trail, it still is not worshiping for the innocent desire to be one with the belief but simply bc money it conned from others built the church and what better way to show faith than to build a church, right?

The mottled soul is the lost and confused one — am I wrong? Will this last? I have to believe in the Father that This is the Right Path. It’s actually the one more aligned to truly believing.

And the sinful soul, mired in joy and blood. It echoes the rumors we heard about him in his story about a madman who wrought bloodshed and death wherever he went.

I’m just…. In grief…. There’s so much here. There’s so much to unpack…..

Salvador….

#morimens #Don’t ask how long this took me bc of my shit memory #This is purely for me so I don’t loose these #working event archive WHEN Morimens!!!! WHEN!!!

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rainbow-scarab · 2 years ago

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Hallownest Symbols, the Ancient Civilization, and the Pale King

Sooo. Since I made my post on Hallownest symbols I've had some new insights.

The Hallownest symbol, with its lined oval and three sets of wings, predates the kingdom as it was under the Pale King and White Lady. It can be found on arcane eggs.

Lemm, on arcane eggs: This civilisation may claim itself the first, but something else did exist within this place before Hallownest. Each egg offers a narrow glimpse into that forgotten age.

It's not just the arcane eggs though. The symbol can also be found in the Abyss, on the lighthouse. Sorta.

You see, the lighthouse isn't just one structure--it's two. It's an older, crumbling structure....and then the new shiny construction that the Pale King added on top.

And looking at the older structure, the platforms themselves have the Hallownest symbol on it. Oval with wings.

Another detail I've noticed in the Abyss is that this structure isn't the only one. It can be seen in the background around the void sea:

Just, further cementing the thought that the old crumbling building beneath the shiny new top is not a construction under the Pale King, but instead something quite ancient. Just one of many buildings, a conveniently tall structure for the Pale King to repurpose into a lighthouse.

So what does this mean?

Various sources in the game point to the Pale King having portrayed himself as the creator of Hallownest. Lemm, in his quote above. And some more examples:

Lore tablet in King's Pass: Higher beings, these words are for you alone. Beyond this point you enter the land of King and Creator. Step across this threshold and obey our laws. Bear witness to the last and only civilisation, the eternal Kingdom. Hallownest

Hunter's Journal, on wingmoulds: The bugs of Hallownest believed that their King created this world and everything in it. For what purpose, I wonder? Were his subjects companions, or toys, or children? Such a mind seems unknowable.

The developer notes in the game also indicate that the Pale King wanted to get rid of other gods:

The moth tribe were (perhaps) descended from Radiance. However, the King convinced them somehow to seal Radiance away. I guess so he could rule Hallownest with his singular vision, as a monarch/god with no other gods.

The dev notes are not canon and it's clear that they were never intended to be seen by others. But I think there's something to be said at least for him attempting a "singular vision". Uniting Hallownest under one rule, portraying himself as creator, creating a certain order. Some more quotes:

Bardoon: For quiet retreat did I climb up here, away from spitting creatures. Ormmph... Yes. High up. Away from simple minds, lost to light. Theirs is a different kind of unity. Rejection of the Wyrm's attempt at order.

Mask Maker, reacting to Ghost having King's Brand: No bug has ever laid claim to this whole. Even the beasts knew their limits and bound their realm at Nest's edge. It is the ancient caste that made attempt at such vast rule. Hallownest's ruin reflects well those fared attempts.

I believe Mask Maker is referring to the Ancient Civilization having attempted to rule over all of Hallownest. There's a possibility they're referring to Hallownest under the Pale King, as "ancient" does not necessarily mean what fans call the Ancient Civilization (and indeed most instances of the word "ancient" refer to Hallownest under the Pale King). But "attempts" being in the plural, I think Mask Maker intends to draw a parallel here between the two civilizations.

Speaking of King's Brand...

I believe now this is the best symbol of the Pale King we have. His original symbol.

As I noted in my first post on Hallownest symbols, the Hallownest seal seems the most associated with the Pale King when it has the crown on it. And the few actual depictions of him, in statues, idols, and shrines, all have his crown, but lack wings. Save for the glowing silhouette of him in Ogrim's dream battle, there are no depictions of him with wings. He may lack wings entirely, or have some form of artificial wings.

In fact, I find it quite interesting how you can pick up monarch wings as an item.

They are described by the game as being made of "ethereal matter". The game manual calls them "wings of a monarchfly". It's possible that the Pale King had such wings as seen here, not part of his original body, but made somehow.

And, just to look at the symbols again...

If one were to superimpose the old Hallownest Seal from the time of the Ancient Civilization on top of the King's Brand, you'd get the current Hallownest Seal. Oval Bug body, wings, crown, and tail.

So, what I'm thinking, the impression that I'm getting....

The Pale King came to Hallownest. He saw all the evidence of the Ancient Civilization, which had already fallen. He took on bug form (which may have happened before or after he saw the symbol and other evidence of the ancient civ, but I have to wonder if witnessing Hallownest's history and symbols influenced even this decision to become small). He, for reasons beyond the purpose of this post, decided he wanted to rule Hallownest as king and "creator" (which again may or may not have been part of his decision to be reborn).

He established his kingdom. He took on aspects of preexisting Hallownest, essentially claiming the legacy of the Ancient Civilization as his own. He took on bug form, and gave himself wings, to match this old image, as if it was always about him.

He established his palace in the Ancient Basin. He had access to the Abyss, mostly closed off from the rest of the populace. He studied the void. But the bugs of the Ancient Civilization had a different attitude about void, as indicated by Lemm in the Hunter's Journal entry on the void idol:

Inspired or mad, those ancient bugs. They devoted their worship to no lord, or power, or strength, but to the very darkness itself.

The Pale King instead was worshipped as a god by his people. He instead treated the void as something to control. He studied it. He tested it. He created void constructs to guard his palace. He used it, to stake the future of his entire kingdom on.

I could go on and on about this. And I intend to. But this is as far as I will go in this post, meant to be an update to my last post on symbols. But, I already have a long post I put together months ago, didn't post, and just have to update with new thoughts. So hopefully, I'll be expanding on all the implications here for Hallownest history soon enough.

#hollow knight #hollow knight theory #hallownest #ancient civilization #pale king

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dragoler · 4 months ago

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The Pale King's deal with Herrah was actually genius

I'm sure this question has crossed many people's minds when they've played Hollow Knight: why is Herrah a dreamer? Monomon and Lurien were both followers of the Pale King and probably volunteered eagerly for the position; Monomon to preserve the kingdom's diversity, and Lurien because he would do anything in service to his king, but Herrah? She is a foreign queen, furthermore, she did not volunteer willingly for the position, but had to be persuaded through a deal. Well to start with, let's look at Deepnest.

Deepnest is not a friendly place

The first sign of Hallownest's tumultuous relationship with Deepnest is the failed tramway. Granted, this project may have failed due to aggression from the region's wildlife and not the actions of the Distant Village, as we already know Hallownest had a deal in place with the Mantis village to keep those away:

The truce remains. Our vigil holds. The beasts are kept at bay.

- Mantis lore tablet

But it reflects well the attitude the Distant Village likely had about the expansionist empire at their door. To start with, those creepy puppets who tell you to rest on the bench in the Beast's Den. They look like upper-class Hallownest bugs, which is odd, because why would the denizens of Deepnest even know what they look like, given their isolation, and why would any bugs wearing these robes ever step foot in such a dangerous place? Here's my theory, they are the shells of real Hallownest bugs, as we can find the webbed remains of similar bugs who've been deceived by this ruse in the other building:

…Not friends…

Furthermore, they are the shells of diplomats sent by Hallownest to negotiate with the bugs of the Village, which would explain their upper-class fashion. That didn't turn out so well though, did it?

Even if they aren't the actual shells of Hallownest's representatives, the way they're used is already damning enough.

Ah, but the weavers are now infected, which is why they have become so aggressive. While it is true that the infection increases the aggression of its host, it isn't really known to make its hosts more clever, in fact, quite the opposite:

For quiet retreat did I climb up here, away from spitting creatures. Ormmph… Yes. High up. Away from simple minds, lost to light. Theirs is a different kind of unity. Rejection of the Wyrm's attempt at order. I resist the light's allure. Union it may offer, but also a mind bereft of thought… To instinct alone a bug is reduced…Hrrm…

- Bardoon

And that, was quite a clever trap. Probably too clever for an infected mind, especially given how clearly those puppets speak. Moreover, we do see an uninfected weaver in their hidden den, so we know not all of them have fallen to the infection.

If there needs to be more evidence that this is behavior we should expect from intelligent Deepnest bugs, we only need look to the Midwife. She is an uninfected servant of the Nest, who despite claiming to be a friend, will always try to eat the Knight at the end of her dialogue. This is probably how the Nest has acted for most of its existence, and again following Hallownest's fall, but something happened in-between…

Something changed

In the later months or years of Hallownest, bugs stopped using stone tablets:

In its declining age, this city switched from stone to parchment woven of spider's silk. It's a small tragedy, but the moisture in these towers has rendered most of those texts illegible.

- Relic Seeker Lemm

We can see spools of silk in the weaver's den, Deepnest stag station, and the hidden station at the palace grounds, so almost certainly this new silk came from the weavers.

Furthermore, we know the Nest worked alongside the Pale King with his vessel plan, as we can find a prototype of the seal that was used to bind the Hollow Knight within their hidden den.

So what changed? An acknowledgement of a shared threat, bringing both communities together? I don't think so. Before the Pale King arrived in what would become Hallownest, all tribes in the area seemed content to stay within their boundaries:

No bug has ever laid claim to this whole. Even the beasts knew their limits and bound their realm at Nest's edge.

And it is only upon pushing those boundaries that collapse becomes inevitable:

It is the ancient caste that made attempt at such vast rule. Hallownest's ruin reflects well those fared attempts.

- Both quotes from Mask Maker

The Radiance and the moth tribe coexisted with the other tribes and gods around them for an unknown period of time before Hallownest started expanding into their lands. Besides the Hive which shut its doors to the outside world, the Nest was the last frontier Hallownest really had left to conquer. Given their isolation from the kingdom, the Nest would have every reason to believe the Radiance was not their problem, and if she returned, Hallownest might fall but the Nest would keep going on all the same.

Although, if weavers were happening to become infected at this time, their general hostile and isolationist attitude would make it unlikely for them to seek or accept the aid of Hallownest of all places.

No, the reason Deepnest suddenly got friendly with Hallownest was because of The Bargain tm.

Why the bargain was genius

We don't have definitive proof of who came up with the deal. There is dialogue from Herrah which states that it was the Pale King, but because this dialogue is unused, it of course cannot be used as evidence:

Wyrm, your attempt may prove futile, but your offer I could not refuse.

That said, it was probably still the Pale King's idea. To start with, let's look at the Midwife's dialogue:

That village above here, home to a sad creature. Hers is a tale of tragic exchange. Cost her and her people greatly, though I suspect she bore no regret in making it.

This deal cost not only Herrah, but her people greatly as well. It was not a deal made lightly, but seemingly one she couldn't refuse. We know that she once had a husband, as the mushrooms mention him in one of their lore tablets:

This border bounds the twisting, scratching things. Their dead sire, once of honoured caste. Their sealed mother, but the common beast. No peace with them we make.

He was of "honoured caste", we don't know what this means, but as Herrah is a queen and yet still described as a "beast", he must have been a notable creature, likely a higher being of some sort.

Herrah it seems married well above her station, but as a now widowed mortal queen she was in need of an heir, and not just any heir, an heir of appropriate caste. In this deal she'd lose her autonomy, and never get to see her child grow up. What does the Pale King get?

He gets everything.

The Queen of the Nest is now out of action, and his own blood sits upon its throne, but as Hornet is too young to rule, the Nest is essentially leaderless. Furthermore his own queen is either raising Hornet, or at least has a strong influence on her, as she was close enough to the princess to develop a bond:

It faced the Gendered Child? She's a fierce foe, strong in mind and body, striking reflection of her mother, though the two were permitted little time together. I never begrudged the Wyrm's dalliance as bargain. In fact, I feel some affection for the creature birthed.

Hallownest now firmly has its claws in the Nest and its future, making the Nest a vassal of the kingdom, and this manifested in cooperation and trade.

So why did the Pale King chose Herrah and not one of his own subjects? Because it let him execute his plan to save Hallownest and conquer his final rival in a single move. Oh, and it would have been a perfect victory, if it wasn't for that dang impurity in the Vessel.

All images taken from hollowknight.wiki

#hollow knight #hollow knight lore #deepnest #herrah #pale king #hornet hollow knight

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glitterglxss · 1 year ago

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@x-harley-girl-x Harley's got some competition

Idk how psychiatrists get assigned their patients (or if that's even the proper terminology) but I imagine for both Harley and Elena it would've gone something like this (inspired by that TikTok trend)

The guy reading out a list of people who've asked to be treated by Melissa: A not-a-real-blonde who's in a toxic relationship and is almost unhinged but is clinging to those hinges by her manicured fingernails.

Melissa: WHERE?!

The guy (about Elena): Europe.

Melissa: Where in Europe?

The guy: Central Europe. I can't find the name of the country, but I've found its coat of arms, its history, its mythology, and what its most popular exports are.

Melissa: Welp, guess I'll be catching a flight to somewhere in Central Europe.

I wish there was a roleplay fandom for The Regime because I roleplay as a bisexual psychiatrist OC (on @fabricwrapped )

And she'd therapy Chancellor Elena Vernham so good lmaooo

#had to call out will tracy for doing his world-building backwards #like he made so much lore for this fictional country #and then didn't give it a name #i'm gonna make melissa working for the chancellor part of melissa's canon #like SOMEONE had to prescribe all eight billion of the anxiety tablets that we see elena take in the regime #SOMEONE had to give elena a tissue in ep 4 and i really doubt it was any other member of her staff #there aren't any elena roleplayers and there probably never will be #so elena will just be an unseen character causing angst between melissa and harley #but the angst will also be funny #'cause melissa will be able to see the whole picture but harley most likely won't #harley being like “you're leaving date night early because some prissy pre-menopausal patient of yours is fucking up her own interview?!”#i've also got a whole tag convo going on in the original post (reblogged from my personal Tumblr)

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vsaintsin · 1 year ago

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Writeblr Re-Intro

Yo! I'm V Saintsin. Or V or Vin or Saintsin or whatever you want to call me that sounds right on your tongue. I'm a self-proclaimed Social Media fumbler who got a late start to the party and has never quite figured it out. I hate how hipster and edgy it sounds to say "I'm bad at social media" but like I used to work with some people who actually managed the social media accounts for the business we worked for and there were rules and whatnot and damn, I think online media is just not my medium. That being said, here I am! Hah

I'm an author and general mess who's hoping to be the miracle man (somebody who makes a living writing silly little stories). I do use a pseudonym but please hear me out when I say I didn't realize how edgy it sounds, it just has some sentimental value to my personal life. I'm so sorry that I sound like I'm in my emo phase HAHA

About me -

He/Him Transguy from the American Midwest (arguably the south, depending on who you talk to, but the older people still say "Sodi-pop" and "ope").

I'm dysautonomic, bendy, permanently sleepy, and a survivor of Crappy Doctors Who Suck At Doctoring.

I like DnD, Pathfinder, Baldur's Gate 3, Cyberpunk, Dragon Age, and other things in that vein.

I do make art of my stories and characters (Tablet is currently not working so I'm in a dry spell).

My writing background is predominantly ancient, dusty RPs from as far back as the foopets days and fanfic writing on Quizilla - I am an old and wizened elder of the net.

My formal education was music performance and behavioral neuroscience, I don't really know how I got where I am.

This is not my first rodeo with tumblr but it is the first time I have anything to SAY instead of just lurking.

In the event of malfunction, you can put me outside for 5 minutes and I'll probably factory reset.

My existence as I know it hinges on a massive number of sticky notes plastered throughout my room.

What I'm lookin' for -

Idk, whatever? I'm down for most things. Did you write it? Cool, let me see. I'm not too bent on genre or anything, just fascinated by the art of storytelling.

A bit tentative with fanfiction but that's just because if it's not a fandom I'm familiar with I am rather clueless about what the hell is going on and if it's a fandom I am familiar with I HUNT DOWN THE DEEP LORE.

I like art a whole lot, including fanart. Also art advice, love seeing things from different perspectives and learning something new.

Mutuals, really, for any reason. Building better connections on here, getting to know people. I am hideously bad at this but I try.

What I write -

Science Fiction with heavy subjects that matter to me - trigger warnings on a story-by-story basis.

High Fantasy (eventually books I think?) characters and their backgrounds for DnD and Pathfinder - I have been tempted to share these to help people get ideas or just for free use?

Things that I delete because I have crippling imposter syndrome and publishing makes me nauseous (doin' it tho).

Stories that I hope will make people feel less alone or that people could relate to, stories that I wish I had when life was worse and I was reaching out for anything I could find to keep me afloat, stories that try to be critical of things that SUCK in a way that's any helpful.

Lots of curse words and cussing (that's just how people talk 'round here), dubious science, things that I hope might make you cry but in a good way though.

Character-Driven stories that revolve more around the development of the person and less around the plot itself if that makes sense.

I've put blurb things below for my primary project/series which features a grumpy, queer, 37-year old chain smoking Frenchman and his misadventures with life and love and unbridled rage. If any of that sounds cool stick around and hang out? (This part is a plug bc I did a thing and I'm proud of it) And if my books sounds interesting the first one is 99 cents on Kindle and you just need a phone and a free app to read it!

THE SECRET OF LIFE (Published) - Sci-Fi/Psychological Thriller, Bi M Lead, Lovers to Enemies, AI but the oldschool cool kind not the real world thing that's stealing our future

Carlisle-Trystan Antoinette is a mercenary on a hard road, navigating life and death itself in an infinite cycle started by powers above his understanding. He has one mission - warn The Dianican Space Station of the coming threat and put a stop to a war that would encapsulate the whole of the Sol System before it can ever begin. Unfortunately for Carlisle, reality is a tenuous thing, made up only by our understanding of it. At least, according to his Psychiatrist, who tells him that there is no war, that he was never a mercenary, and that what Carlisle is experiencing is a severe but manageable psychotic break. Stripped of his combat enhancements, his bio monitor, and everything he's every known, Carlisle has a decision to make. Does he give in to the thoughts and memories, so real that he can almost taste them, or does he live a life of comfort and ease, returning to a husband and daughter that he left behind?

TWs: Domestic and War Violence, suicide, rape, medical trauma, grief, drug use

THE SILENCE OF ANGELS (Due 2024, TSoL 2) - Betrayal and Rage, Learning how to love again slow-burn romantic subplot, Learning how to Dad, A general inability for any one thing to just go right

(Quick Rough Blurb that offers no spoilers for TSoL) Making connections isn't easy for somebody who's accustomed to burning bridges. Isolation has always been Carlisle's mantra for surviving his life. Playing a role comes second nature, pretending to be the man that everyone else wants to see in him. When an old friend is murdered Carlisle finds himself as the primary suspect with all evidence pointing to him so clearly that even he calls to question what he is capable of. Unwilling to believe that he could commit such a heinous crime, Carlisle sets off to find the truth of his friend's death - was Carlisle framed or does he truly have the capacity to bring such harm upon those he loves? Old and new bonds will be tested, faith broken, and the future of everyone called into question as lines are drawn and sides are picked.

TWs: Violence, mentions of SA, graphic character death, more grief, more death

I don't know what else to say... Later!

#booklr #lgbt fiction #writeblr #writeblr intro #authors

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novacorpsrecruit · 1 year ago

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Theme: social media / modern media AU

Don’t Hate the Player by daynight (Ao3) @daynightinc (tumblr)

M | wc 6,373 | minor cw cut scene cyber sex (I read it at work 🫡)

Steve Harrington doesn't really play video games. Not his thing.

Somehow, however, he's ended up in an utterly delusional, one-sided relationship with an NPC.

This is so fucking unique I’m literally hanging it up Video Game Hall of Fame. Rochester, here I come. Steve is bullied into playing ‘Upside Down’ an 18+ MMORG, as Dustin tells him the most efficient way to get a hold of him is through [reads notes] the in-game messaging system. Sounds right. Steve gets enamored with the game, playing hours on end even without Dustin. And Steve finds Keswardia the Banished, an NPC merchant, that he can’t stop visiting.

I’ll be honest I fucking love video game lore. It’s one thing that sucks me into games so hard. The world building in this fic just for the video game is so good!! I want to eat it up. And the fact that Steve stumbles into Keswardia destroys me. Read it, you’ll get it.

Gareth the Matchmaker by Steviesbicrisis (Ao3) @steviesbicrisis (tumblr)

G | 15/16 chapters | no cw

Gareth is in charge of the Corroded Coffin official TikTok account, he's playing Fuck Marry Kill with the three random celebrities filters and trying to make the other guys join as well.

When it's Eddie's turn, he's having none of it until he sees the three celebrities on top of his head.

He has no clue who these people are, but the one in the middle? Eddie is sure he's going to marry him someday.

Eddie has yet to find out that the guy is none other than baseball player Steve Harrington, 1/3 of the "Ladykiller Trio", currently playing for the Yomiuri Giants. In Japan.

And when things get too complicated for Eddie's liking, thankfully he has Gareth on his side.

I honestly think this is the first time I’ve ever read a social media AU that’s only through images and with a complete story. There’s screenshots of the text messages, Instagram, news articles, TikTok’s. This is such a unique storytelling method and everyone is so in character, you forget that it’s not real screenshots. (I hardly ever read anything that’s incomplete but I made sure to hit subscribe when I first saw it was on Ao3.) It’s a WIP, but chapter 16 is supposed to be an epilogue, so even if you don’t like reading WIPs, I highly encourage this one!!

WHO IS EDDIE MUNSON FUCKING by beetlesandstars, witchjeons (ao3)

M | wc 2,445 | no cw

Summary: eddie: oh god

oh no god please no

FUCK

FUCK FCUK FUCK FCK FUCK

NOBODY LOOK NOBODY SCROLL UP

PLEASE

nancy: did you actually just sext the fucking group chat

eddie: so. like

Or, Eddie accidentally sends a sext to the group chat. Chaos ensues.

I fucking die reading this. This is an entire fic made of chat rooms and it’s so fUCKING funny I’m not even joking.

Eddie accidentally opens a can of worms when he sends the wrong message to the wrong chat and chaos ensues. All of their personalities fit so well in a modern setting and it feels like you’re snooping in someone’s phone. I really recommend anything that Jo writes that has chats (and in general)!

Eddie Munson/Hotdude Official Megatherad! By MixAddams (ao3) @mixsethaddams (tumblr)

T | wc 1,906 | cw Reddit simulation

Summary: The general public spent 30 years thinking nothing of Steve’s presence in pictures beyond him being ‘that one hot dude in the background’ because whatever, he was just another part of Corroded Coffin’s entourage.

Imagine the scramble on the band’s subreddit to reexamine every picture he’s ever been in when, the day gay marriage gets legalised in Indiana, Eddie posts a picture on Instagram of the two of them with the caption “Finally. We’ve been engaged since 1989.”

(Because of the formatting is infinitely clearer on desktop or tablets than on mobile)

I absolutely love this. This is literally peering into the Stranger Things universe in 2Kwhatever and peering into the mess that is Reddit and the Corroded Coffin fan base. This is so fucking brilliant I just !!!! Please read.

Seth tbh I don’t think I realized this was your fic I love your brain, I’m kissing your brain.

Consensual Catfishing by foresthearts (ao3)

M | wc 32,108 | cw miscommunication

Summary: When Eddie gets a message on instagram from an account claiming to be the famous pop-star Steve Harrington, he knows immediately it's a catfish. He's not dumb. The account has no pictures and people like Steve Harrington don't just randomly DM guys like Eddie.

Still. What would be the harm in letting it play out? It's not dangerous if he knows he's being catfished. No, if he knows about it, then it's basically like a fun little roleplay. No harm, no foul.

(Eddie is not, in fact, being catfished)

*slaps the screen of Ao3* This baby can fit so much into it! Mistaken identities, identity porn, mixed media, famous Steve, slightly less famous Eddie, podcasts, text messages, tumblr posts, and dungeons and dragons.

Eddie, a DM for a Dungeons and Dragons online podcast (vodcast? wtf do you call it when it’s a video series), gets a message from someone pretending to be his (slightly former) celebrity crush, Steve Harrington. Eddie goes along with it, joking about it on his show, and maybe he kind of falls in love with the catfisher…

While Steve Harrington finds out an internet celebrity is into him. He reaches out to the famous DM Eddie Munson in hopes he can get over his former relationship with his bandmate.

This Untitled modern AU by @steddiealltheway

G | ficlet sized | no cw

Summary: A wrong number leads to Steve making an unlikely friendship.

This fic rattled my brain so much, when I was searching for it I thought it was on Ao3/10K fic. I absolutely love this piece! Robin goes out on a date and Steve (lovingly) jokes that Robin is going out with a serial killer. Steve texts Robin’s new number, just to ensure she’s safe and not actually with a serial killer… only to find out that he has the wrong number. He creates a friendship with Not Robin (of course, after finding out Robin was indeed safe), and maybe he falls along the way, too.

Found God in a Tomato by beetlesandstars (ao3)

M | wc 5,725 | no cw

Summary: Eddie: just met the cutest guy on god’s green earth and i didn’t get his number

basically it’s over for me

Steve: Oh? Where?

Eddie: at this little coffee shop i like

i’ve never seen Tall Pretty Gorgeous here before though so. i will probably never see him again.

shoot me

Steve: Tall Pretty Gorgeous huh?

He must’ve been something

Eddie: YES Steve. he WAS

operative word being WAS!

i can’t believe i didn’t ask for his number

Steve: What’d he look like?

Eddie: oh, you know

his beauty was beyond compare

with flaming locks of chestnut hair

with suntanned skin and eyes of roasted beans…

his smile soft like summer rain

his voice was like a breath of spring

and i cannot be normal now, joleeeeene

I actually found this fic while searching for the above untitled tumblr fic (when I thought it was on Ao3) and stumbled upon another great Jo creation!

A text to the wrong number creates a friendship through sending songs back and forth (the best kind of friendship). And ugh!!!!! I just love this so much.

i couldn’t see (you were always right beside me) by oriscribes (Ao3)

T | wc 13,609 | cw they’re fucking idiots

Summary: Three hours later Steve logged off to get ready for his shift at the hospital. He was several levels higher and had finished the quests in Darkshore with the help of Greyhawk. He also had a friend listed in his friends list.

Greyhawk had said that being friends would let them be able to tell when the other was online so they could quest again. Steve really liked the sound of that. He didn’t have many friends his own age. He and Robin basically lived in each other’s pockets at work, but with Robin’s new girlfriend and their sleep schedules, they didn’t end up getting to hang out more than once a week.

A new friend sounded really nice, especially given that it was unlikely he would ever get along with his neighbors. The only resident Steve’s age on this floor was the neighbor he hated and that was very unlikely to change anytime soon.

Steve hated his neighbor. And then Dustin and the other kiddos left for college and Steve signed up for some online game called World of Warcraft. Which was how Steve met a Night Elf druid named Greyhawk.

Oh my god did we ask for more mistake identities because THIS FIC IS LOADED WITH THEM!!! I cannot stress how much I loved this fic. I just discovered it two weeks ago and it is embedded so deeply into my brain I just !!!!

Steve decides to join Dustin and the rest of the party on WoW, to bridge the distance college has created, but somehow never joins their party as he makes a new friend online. Steve uses WoW to relax from the real world of his stressful job at the hospital, the ongoing feud he has with his neighbor and his cat (Cowboy!!!!!!), and the constant nagging he gets from Dustin to meet his other older friend Eddie.

Eddie, on the other hand, found a newb on WoW and somehow adopted him as a new friend, helping him level up and teach him the game. If only friendships work out this well in real life, then maybe he could help his grumpy neighbor not be so … well… grumpy.

Please remember to leave kudos and comments on the fics you read/enjoyed! Support your writers 🖤

Prev fic rec: fics that fucked me up (so you should read them too)

#steddie #stranger things #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic recs #fic recs #novacorpsrecruit fic recs #lmao I left my note to find the untitled tumblr fic so that tells you how much it rotted my brain

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