#i like to think all my previous generations were so repressed and then when i was born i just cry for everyone

[nangua]

throwback to when my mom said “even when i was a poor starving student in the philippines i didn’t cry as much as you”

[dunmeshistash]

Semi-related to Thistle talk but it's interesting to compare him with Yaad's generation, because they too are stuck in a perpetual adolescence while still having to carry out adult responsibilities. Given Yaad's entire arc and the apparent ease at which the citizens have worked for centuries on end, one very optimistic take might interpret this as them developing more maturity than Thistle… But then it's pointed out that they're doing all of this because routine is the only thing keeping them sane anymore, and even then they still struggle to find meaning and joy in things other people take for granted, like food. So to other people what looks like maturity is actually repression or apathy for the sake of survival.

And while their situation is definitely not the same as Thistle being taken away from his culture and raised entirely by tallmen, the Golden Country citizens are also disconnected from where they came from and what they "should" be - the previous generations that had a frame of reference for the outside world and a normal lifespan are now gone. That's how we end up with scenes like Chilchuck being unnerved by the brewer that looks like a teen but casually mentions running their own business for 600+ years. They and Thistle all have that dissonance of looking young but having taken on too many duties, much too early, for much too long.

I hadn't thought much about how young the golden kingdom people are I just assumed they were adults but they DO look younger than what we would consider adults.

I theorized on another post that they might all be 16 (but I also say I think they're older there, now I'm not so sure) because that's the age of maturity for Tallmen.

Age of maturity usually means that's when you're considered an "adult" socially (as in now you have adult responsibilities and is expected to carry your own) that's why I think Thistle hasn't reached that yet, its what would thematically fit him the most as a kid with adult responsibilities (wouldn't make sense if he was already the age that's expected to take on these responsibilities)

The golden kingdom citizens don't really feel like they have a stunted growth like thistle to me.... I don't know how to explain how I feel but... it's like they have stunted experiences instead? They don't know what really is like to be alive, they are just going about their lives in a clockwork manner trying not to think about it and missing out on how it feels to live (exemplified by how they don't eat).

What made me feel like that the most is that when Yaad is in Delgal's body it doesn't feel like a teen trapped in an old man's body, it feels like an old man with finally a body that matches? To me the golden kingdom citizens feel more like someone forever trapped in a body much younger than their minds?

That's just my interpretation tho! I like your interpretation too, it's making me think about it more, so I might end up changing my mind. Some of them really do act like kids/teens like the girls asking Marcille to do a fashion show for them, that was very cute, they probably haven't gotten to play in a while.

[phantomwitch16]

So I just learned the Nanbaka ending. Safe to say that it was not what i expected and I wanna talk about it :,)

Warning to the many people who have not been able to make it past chapter 192 or only watched the anime, the majority of what i know is from TikTok's, the comments of the vids and what i've pulled together by myself and what i've seen on Pinterest. Plus, despite my like for the series, I don't know much, its been a few years since I've done anything with the series , there is a cut off point with the manga and even then i don't know if it was in any particular order.

When i first started the series, I felt like i had a good idea of where the series was going. Like as the series would progress, we learn the pasts and motivations of the main cast, like Uno, Rock, Nico and the others, while seeing Jyugo learn about the shackles and the man on the scar. Then at the end, some shenanigans results in our main cast of idiotic prisoners being released early or finishing off their sentences in around a year or two. but because they either grew attached to the prison or liked the perks of working there (annoying Hajime, anime and food), they decide to go back and become guards of building 13. With Jyugo possibly doing something like this each day.

But that didn't happen. Instead we get something a lot more different than what I originally imagined.

In the end of the series, we learn a lot about Jyugo's backstory, how he and the boys first me and more about the man who shackled him. As it turns out, Jyugo was never friends with Uno, Rock and Nico. They met him but they weren't friends, I think. Initally, I didn't think that he even met them before the start of the series until finding some of the fan translated pics of the manga on Pinterest (Search Nanmaka manga ending Jyugo and you should find something, just find one and keep on scrolling). All the memories that Jyugo had with them were fake ones that were inputted by the clone of the man with the scar/his biological grandfather, i.e. this guy, Hiiro, I think is his name. Hiiro with black hair, scar guy with white guy down here 👇

I'm not entirely clear on what they were planning initially but Hiiro was the one who inputted the memories and orchestrated him going to Namba and becoming friends with the three, who possibly have at least met them individually at tone point. From what I am aware, Jyugo was the clone of Mashiro Mutsuki's (Scar man), grandson who alongside his daughter's, Touko, Jyugo's mother. She died while she was pregnant with Jyugo and Mashiro kept her body so that she could be cloned and give birth to Jyugo.

There were bit and pieces of Jyugo's childhood, with him and Hiiro. And Jyugo was nothing like how he was during the series. He was serious, had no general emotions and all that and i think his clone body was falling apart or he was sort of shapeshifting. He only became somewhat normal and acts similar to how he does to the series when he put the shackles on.

But the shackles had another function and it was to repress his memories and powers. Specifically his memories with Hiiro, the scar man and what his friends did to him. Uno, Nico and Rock were brought in to teach Jyugo how to live in order to be released from prison and gain their freedom. And kill him some time before the series started. This was part of Hiiro’s plan but I’m not too sure about his reasoning. They did that, and when the shackles are gone we see the evidence of it on Jyugo's neck.

All this makes looking back on previous adventures quite differently. In short they were never his friends for a time but did grow close in the time afterwards and began to feel guilt for what they did to him. They eventually come to talk to Jyugo about it and apologise but at this point, it was too late. Jyugo remembers everything when the shackles break and is practically reverted to his previous state. And it leads to a bitter confrontation that leaves the three shaken. As seen below 👇

I'm not sure to what degree of involvement Nanba Prison and the staff there had. By all accounts, its seems that Hajime and the other guards were just as or even more in the dark than Jyugo. Upon finding him, Hajime treats him like he's always has.

The only moderately positive thing and relatively Jyugo related thing that the reverted Jyugo does is that he has a brief interaction with Hajime’s cat who he says goodbye to.

In the end, Jyugo disappeared from the prison with a splatter of blood left behind, leaving apparently with his grandfather. Then that's it. A very WTF kind of ending for a comedic series. It...honestly not what i expected. Beautiful art stuff, yes. WTF moments, yes. Hilarity, yes. A very bitter ending with barely any sweetness in it…neat.

[depressedbagpipe]

A Heartrender's Fire: ch. IV

Tolya Yul-Bataar x Lantsov!ofc

Words: 5205 Warnings: vasily lantsov, misogyny (mentioned), someone gets a hit to the head a couple of times, anxiety? i guess, david, netflix's poor pacing choices (what even is neshyenyer), made up ravkan A/N: and off we go! why on earth are these chapters so long like wtf am i writing💀 anyways, i think i suck at writing slowburn? or romance in general

Series Masterlist Previous chapter

IV: Every Monstrous Thing

“Why must you always play the diplomat, Nikolai?” Vasily spoke with disgust in his voice. “Grisha dining beside true Ravkan soldiers is a bit much for all our stomachs.”

“Wow, Vasily, I almost forgot how annoying your voice is,” Irina rolled her eyes.

“Really? I could never forget how stupidly insufferable you still are, dear sister,” he counter-attacked.

“Shut it, you two,” their Queen mother commanded lowly, smiling again for her fellow court members. 

The lines on her face were a lot more prominent after Genya’s departure, and Irina almost frowned at the sight of her mother, looking old and frail. She had always known the constant alterations were only physical, but the Queen of Ravka had always made sure nobody would see her look anything other than perfect. 

“We are all Ravkan here,” Alina spoke after a few seconds of silence, also wanting to defend herself against the heir to the throne. 

The Sun Summoner sat next to Irina at the end of the table, the odd one out in the picture-perfect royal family. Nikolai and Irina had changed into proper garments as soon as they had arrived at the Spinning Wheel per their mother’s request, and seeing each other dressed in something other than their usual attire at sea was beyond baffling. It had been too long, and although both of them automatically knew how to behave as princes, Irina particularly felt she was playing a character. 

“Doesn’t need to be us versus them,” Nikolai added, looking for conciliation.

“General Kirigan should’ve thought of that before he tried to murder my father and stage a coup,” he looked at the King, whose poor wealth was becoming more apparent with every passing second. 

Nikolai and Irina shared a glance at their older brother’s words, never missing the double meaning Vasily always added when he spoke of his birthright. The King was leaning on his chair, barely touching his food, with his gaze lost somewhere in front of him. Irina almost felt bad for the man, yet he had barely shown any interest or affection in either of his lesser kids when they still lived in Os Alta. Deep down, he knew too. 

“That said, absent their Darkling, the Grisha are rather easy to manage.”

“By ‘manage,’ do you mean ‘execute,’ moi tsarevich?” Alina asked with a fierce smile. 

Irina repressed a smile, glad she had yet another person supporting her hatred for her older brother sitting next to her at the table. 

“That fate is reserved for traitors to the Crown, Miss Starkov.”

“If the Second Army requires a leader loyal to the Crown to assure their fealty, then I will lead them.”

Irina gripped her goblet, suddenly interested in the dark and luxurious wine that she had been unwillingly drinking for the past hour. She certainly preferred the cheapest options in beverages, because those belonged at sea with Sturmhond and Ainthe. 

Vasily laughed audibly, looking at their mother before turning again to face the Sun Summoner. “Why should I believe you have any loyalty to my family?”

Irina was already taking a big gulp of her drink when Nikolai stood up, his loud voice taking up the entire chapel they were having dinner at. 

“Today marks the start of a new era of cooperation between Lantsovs and the Grisha,” silence filled the room as they stared at the second son, wondering. “I’m delighted to announce my engagement to Alina Starkov, the Sun Summoner and new leader of the Second Army. Together, we will build a better future for Ravka,” he concluded.

Irina quickly surveyed the room. All Grisha cheered, edged on by the twins presiding the table to the left. The rest of the court and soldiers weren’t as buoyant. They shared worried looks, some of them shaking their heads in disbelief, others frowning deeply, staring at the King and Vasily for guidance they wouldn’t ever get. Irina tried to remain impassive, showing no emotion. Princesses didn’t get to care about politics, according to her mother. That was only reserved for the King. 

Nikolai sat down, yet his hand shook a little, drops spilling off his own goblet as he put it back down on the table.

“That was a bit much,” Alina commented, hiding behind her goblet. Her eyes were fixed on Mal, whose head had dropped in defeat. 

“Understatement is overrated.”

Vasily didn’t take long to leave, either. His chair made a profound squeaking noise against the marble as he pushed his chair away, his meal forgotten. 

“Thank Saints he’s gone,” Irina smiled, taking a big bite of her meal with a happy smirk, more animated than she had been since she had stepped foot into the dining room.

“Are you sure about this, Sobachka?” the Queen spoke to her son, her daughter forgotten. As usual. “I understand the political alignment, but is this what’s best for your long-term positioning?”

“This is what’s best for me and for Ravka, Madraya. Your other son is working hard to send this country into civil war. I aim to stand in his way,” Nikolai responded. 

His mother sighed. “It’s best I’d better plan some sort of official celebration.”

“Now’s not the time for parties.”

“Back straight, shoulders back, elbows down. Smile,” Irina whispered to Alina, trying to fix the Sun Summoner’s posture. “If you’re about to become a princess, you need to start behaving like one.”

“You know I don’t plan on that,” she frowned, yet she followed the princess’s orders. Her attempt was almost comical with how she had been sitting before Irina’s comment, but she had to give it to Alina. It wasn’t easy pretending to be graceful and poised when all you would rather do was run free in the wild.

“I know. But they don’t,” Irina discreetly motioned to the people before them, soldiers from their royal guard, court members, and Grisha alike, staring at her with newfound expressions. “As long as you play the part, they’ll follow you.” She took another glance at her mother. “You want to be in her favor, too, at least for now.”

Both girls looked at the blonde woman, who, at the same time, was already setting the details for whatever celebration she wanted to throw in honor of her youngest son’s engagement. 

“I’ll have my seamstress run you up something appropriate.”

Alina only smiled at her, taking another gulp. 

Irina wanted to laugh, or cry, or both. When had life become so complicated? 

–·–

“Sometimes I wonder,” Irina took a breath. “What would have happened if I had come clean since the start? Would Ravka be any different? A Grisha princess… maybe we wouldn’t be here now.”

Irina looked around, making sure to speak in hushed voices. Nikolai walked beside her, occasionally smiling at the many refugees that littered the Spinning Wheel. Tolya trailed after them, always vigilant, no doubt listening to their conversation, yet Irina didn’t mind. Tolya could always have access to the deepest parts of her soul, and she’d gladly allow him in every time. Nikolai had ordered Tamar to guard Alina while she remained under the Crown’s protection, knowing even in his own house she wouldn’t always be safe. Tolya, instead, guarded the siblings, becoming a safe shadow in every corner. Even though Irina hated having a bodyguard, she was glad it was Tolya trailing after her. She wouldn’t have felt safer had it been someone else.

“You know pretty damn well what would’ve happened, Irina. You would’ve become yet another pawn on Kirigan’s plan.”

“Would I?”

“Just think. The leader of the Second Army, betrothed to the princess of Ravka. It would only take him five seconds to get rid of his competition and sit himself on the throne.”

The girl frowned, stopping dead in her trail. “Is there any scenario where I don’t become a bargaining chip?”

Nikolai grimaced but didn’t need to say further. They both knew what the future for a princess always held, no matter the circumstances. 

Her brother looked at her, almost pleading. “You would’ve left eventually, Irina. I know that. I know you. You were never meant to spend your days locked away in a palace.”

“Neither were you.” She jokingly punched his arm, eliciting a smirk from the prince.

“That’s why we have Vasily for,” Nikolai laughed. 

“Thankfully.”

Nikolai smiled at two Summoners who bowed as they walked by them, and Irina stared after them longingly. Many Etherealki still wore their blue keftas, even though most of them rejected General Kirigan’s old status quo. Irina could understand them, anyway, wanting to at least feel like they had a place to belong. Wearing their keftas was the only thing tying most of them to their past –a past that had yet to be tarnished by civil wars. 

“You know, blue doesn’t suit you,” Nikolai commented, quickly piecing the puzzle together after seeing what her sister had been staring at.

“Gold doesn’t either.”

Her golden apparel mirrored her brother’s. Both of them the vivid images of the golden Ravka. Even if there wasn’t anything left of it. 

“I’d much rather see you in red.”

Irina and Nikolai had hidden their jackets, erasing any trace of Ainthe and Sturmhond. Nobody but them, save for the Heartrender twins and now Alina and Mal knew of their identities. Irina knew the day of the reveal was coming closer at a fast rate, but she wanted to hold on longer to her fiery red garment, a gift Sturmhond had gotten her after she joined his crew. It was only fit that his second-in-command would wear clothes worthy of a ship captain –especially if said captain could summon fire with just a thought. 

Irina smiled a pained smirk. “You and me both.”

“When all of this is over, we’ll go back home. To the Volkvolny. To sea.”

The princess shook her head. “What about Alina?”

“What about her?”

She raised an eyebrow. “You like her.”

“And she likes Mal.”

“Besides,” she insisted. “We both know things are about to change forever. Doesn’t matter how much we want to go back, maybe we never will.”

They both frowned at the reality they had desperately tried not to think about. They both felt it deep in their souls –there was no turning back from this.

“Moi tsarevich!” 

Both siblings turned their heads at the sight of Mal running after them, his eyes wild and angry. Tolya stood straighter despite Mal having proven over and over only to be loyal to his Saint. 

“What’s wrong?” Nikolai asked, frowning. 

“You better come see this.”

–·–

“David.”

Alina’s murderous glance was enough to make Irina shiver. Hers wasn’t the look of a powerful Grisha; hers were the eyes of utter betrayal. She arrived shortly with Tamar and Nadia, the Squaller that had welcomed her at the Spinning Wheel. Nikolai’s petite commitée had gathered at the same war room they had improvised the day before, only this time, David Kostyk, trusted Fabrikator back at the Darkling’s Little Palace, was pathetically standing by the center of the room, with both hands separated to prevent him from using the Small Science. 

David awkwardly waved at the mention of his name, his eyes perking up slightly after seeing Alina.

“Oh, so you do know him,” Nikolai groaned, walking forward to stand next to Alina, which only angered Mal more. “He claims to have escaped from a very alive General Kirigan.”

If the situation wasn’t dire enough, Irina would have laughed. David was tall, yet Tolya, taller and bigger, seemed to loom over him completely. The princess was aware of the many separations the Grisha bore back at the Little Palace, yet she couldn’t understand how the Fabrikator before her could hold such power to attract the Darkling. Yet, she was one to talk. She had practically hidden herself away since she was born only to not give away her own strength. After Alina, the Stag, and the Sea Whip, Irina Lantsov was starting to believe anything could be possible.

“He gave himself up without a struggle. We found this on him,” Nikolai gave the crumpled diary to Alina. “He says it’s one of Morozova’s journals.” He turned back to David, speaking in a louder, boastful voice. “I, for one, am dying to know more, but he insisted he speak with you.”

“Alina,” David tried, yet Tolya’s firm hand on his chest prevented David from walking any further. The Heartrender didn’t even look at him, yet David recoiled, defeated, ready to fight his case.

Irina felt almost ashamed at how Tolya’s action had her warm up. He sat casually on the railing, almost bored, knowing he could take down the Fabrikator before the slimmer man even thought about it, should it be necessary. Irina was having a really hard time not to smile. She knew the Heartrender could be deadly, yet he barely chose violence if he could help it. But his appearance told otherwise, and that was enough for any enemy to think twice before attacking the half-Shu. 

“I know I wronged you,” David began. “Please believe I regret my role in that deeply. I know you have reason to distrust me, but I have no loyalty to General Kirigan.”

“He survived the Volcra?” Alina asked.

“I’m afraid so. He also knows that you survived and that you’re in East Ravka.”

Mal intervened. “Tell us where he is.”

“No, no, no,” David shook his head. “Mm-mm, that would be a very bad idea–”

“You can’t expect us to trust you unless you’re willing to share information,” Alina pressed on. 

Tolya readjusted on his seat, noticing the tension rise in the room. He discreetly looked at his sister, standing a little too close to Nadia. He saw Nikolai, standing in between Alina and Mal. And he stared at Irina, standing by herself, with squinted eyes and trembling hands. 

“Confronting him would be suicide.” David sighed again, looking at every single person before finally giving in. “Kirigan used merzost to create something in the Fold. Creatures that do his bidding, the size of two men.” It was comical the way David moved his hands, trying to get his point across. “Formed of pure shadow. They have no breath to take, no heart to stop, no blood to drain. Yet they live.”

Irina felt her own heartbeat pick up at the thought of such monsters. She had only very recently come to terms with the fact that a living Saint was standing and breathing next to her, and now these creatures were freely roaming her homeland. That was a lot for the young princess to take. 

“They live and they kill. They are nichevo’ya. Nothing. Bullets, blades, fire, all simply pass through. And they walk freely in sunlight.”

Everybody looked at David in silence, wrapping their heads around his words. Irina tried to share a look with her brother, as they usually did in every meeting back at the Volkvolny, but the blond prince was looking at Alina. The sudden lack of fraternal comfort only came with another wave of nervousness. The room suddenly seemed darker, colder, and heavier, and the many candles that surrounded the group weren’t enough for Irina’s mind. Despite the light that came from the skylight at the dome of the chapel, darkness seemed to creep around them at its mere mention.

David finished his deadly blow. “I fear that merzost may be the only way to kill them.”

“So how did you manage to get away?” Mal fired the question everybody was dying to know.

David’s face paled even more, looking Alina straight in the eye. “Genya.”

Even Nikolai and Irina perked up at the mention of their mother’s Tailor. Although Irina hadn’t seen much of her, due to their mother keeping her hidden away for her personal use, she could imagine the hatred she had harbored for her family for years. It made sense that she had worked alongside the Darkling to bring the Royal Family down, and even though Irina wasn’t a fan of them either, save for her older brother, she couldn’t help but feel the twinge of betrayal in her chest. 

This time, Nikolai looked at his sister, yet Irina had her gaze lost somewhere in the darkness in front of her, already spiraling into a thousand different thoughts. It didn’t take a genius to recognize the pure terror on the princess’ face.

“We tried to escape together, but… the nichevo’ya. She sacrificed herself to get me out. I don’t know if she survived.”

Tolya then spoke, with one hand discreetly placed before him. “A smart spy will always play the victim.”

Irina didn’t have time to wonder what her friend was doing, for she immediately felt her heart slow. She looked down, unconsciously allowing the contactless source to apply pressure on her chest, effectively breaking her pattern of thoughts as the blood in her system flowed slow and steady, instead of the erratic speed it had just previously harbored.

Breathe. She felt his words inside her skull, almost enough to lull her to sleep. Her eyes unfocused for a second before the girl turned her attention back to the Fabrikator, still feeling the pressure in her chest, only the anxiety had seemed to evaporate with one last breath. Although she hated it when either of the twins used their power on her like that, unprompted and abruptly, she was now grateful that Tolya had seen her despair before it could get worse.

“No, no,” David shook his head. 

“You make a valid point, Tolya,” Nikolai picked Tolya up. “As leader of the Second Army, this is your call,” he looked at Alina, who looked back at Nadia.

“You’ve known David the longest. What do you think?”

The Squaller had not stopped looking at David, but she still responded in a whisper. “Kirigan always kept him very close.”

“Take him to a holding cell,” Alina declared, looking at Tolya, whose hand was still aimed at his princess.

The giant nodded, slowly breaking the connection with Irina with a small nod in her direction, and quickly walked away with David, taking all of the tension with them.

–·–

Irina found Tolya a while later right by the small fountain inside the chapel. The dome stood directly above him, showering the room in light, which the Heartrender used to read his poetry. Some of the Grisha around him eyed him warily, almost afraid, and once again, Irina had to laugh. He wasn’t the deadliest person in the room.

She smirked, seeing as he hadn’t heard her coming yet. She tried blending in with the background as much as she could, sneaking up behind him and scaring him as she forcefully gripped his arms. The girl laughed at the little jump the giant did, congratulating herself on scaring the scariest man in the room. Good-natured Tolya didn’t have the heart to tell Irina that he could recognize her presence anywhere, even before she came into the opening.

“Thank you for earlier,” Irina said as she sat down next to him, fixing her attire after taking a big gulp of air to calm down. 

Tolya smiled at her. “Anytime. I thought you were going to faint any minute.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Irina thought about it for a second but decided against it. “I’d much rather forget all about it for now. What are you reading?” Although she knew Tolya would eventually ask again, she sighed in relief when she saw him pick his book up again, and open it up.

“Selected poems from Negu Kir-Tizur,” he leaned on the fountain, lowering his arms so Irina could see the poems better.

She frowned. “They’re in Shu.”

“You forget I am half-Shu,” he softly hit her with the book in her head, earning another giggle from her.

“I can’t read Shu, you dumbass” she laughed.

“Oh, I’m sorry, moi tsarevicha, I forgot to speak the language of the Saints,” he mocked her, feeling desperate all of a sudden to hear her laugh once again.

That’s exactly what he got. “Hey, that’s not fair!” she giggled again. “You know I always ask you to teach me and then you never do!”

“It’d take years! I don’t think you’d ever understand the complicated themes of the Shu verse,” he continued his teasing, which Irina adored.

“And why is that?” she crossed her arms, trying not to smile.

“You don’t have the patience for that.”

Irina was about to fight him, but she knew he was right. “Well.”

It was Tolya’s turn to laugh. The melodic sound was carried through the dome with its marble columns, and for a second, Irina thought about how that memory would always haunt her in her mind. How, for a few moments, she wasn’t the princess of a dying nation, but a normal girl, talking to the boy she was desperately trying not to like.

“But… I can translate it for you?” Tolya offered, his fingers skimming through the paper, looking for the one poem he knew his companion would like.

“Please,” Irina smiled innocently, using the book as an excuse to not stare into his eyes.

But their moment didn’t last long, because Malyen Oretsev always seemed to have the most perfect importunate timing.

“I was skimming this again for leads on the Firebird, then I remembered a legend about a sword from Shu Han.” Mal had taken it upon himself to read over and over the Istorii Sankt’ya. He claimed it was only to find another way to help Alina, but Irina knew Mal was looking for a way out in it.

Tolya resumed on turning pages of his poetry book, not yet ready to burst the little bubble Irina and he had accidentally summoned for themselves.

“Neshyenyer. The Relentless Blade.”

“You know of it?”

He shrugged. “Of course I do. It’s a folktale. The Fabrikator Kho created an unkillable army made of cogs and bone–”

“Until the Fabrikator Neyar forged Neshyenyer,” Mal finished for him. He showed Tolya and Irina the paintings in the book, reading the words. “‘When Neyar fought, her blade flashed so brightly that people watching swore she had lightning in her hands.’ A blade so sharp it could cut shadow.”

Tolya chuckled. “It’s a bedtime story. My culture has the best myths.”

Irina slapped him across the head, much in the same way he had done earlier with her, only harder. He could take it.

“Ouch.”

“The Sea Whip was a myth,” said Mal with a smirk at their interaction. “So was the Stag. And they were real. She killed an unkillable army. This could be the weapon we need against Kirigan’s monsters. And this book… says it’s in a temple in Ahmrat Jen.”

“No, I doubt that. The one on display is widely rumored to be fake.”

But that didn’t let Mal down. “Okay, how do we find the real one?”

“Who has the money and means to acquire valuable weapons?”

Mal looked at Irina, but she quickly raised her hands in innocence.

“Wrong sibling.”

–·–

“The blade in Ahmrat Jen is indeed a replica,” Nikolai sighed. He hadn’t left the improvised war room at all, and the exhaustion was evident in his voice. “And the original was stolen long ago. I suspect it’s never left Shu Han. If it turned up in the wider black market, Sturmhond would’ve heard about it.”

“This could be the only weapon able to kill Kirigan’s shadow creatures. We need to find it.”

“It’s a valuable old sword, sure. That doesn’t mean the story behind it is true.”

“Any chance is better than no chance,” Mal argued.

Nikolai grinned. “That’s a very Sturmhond thing to say. Were he here, he would surely commend you.”

“It’s a little bit unsettling how you talk about him like he’s someone else.”

“Get used to it,” Irina commented.

“And he would suggest that our mutual friends in Ketterdam might be the perfect crew for the job.”

“You’re really gonna trust the Crows with this?” 

Irina trailed after him, right after they finished their meeting with Tolya and Mal. The giant had volunteered to find it, and rapidly Nikolai had issued a request for a Squaller to join him.

“Not just the Crows. I trust Tolya,” he said as he stepped into his room, turning around to face his sister as she closed the door behind her. “And I trust you.”

Irina froze. “Me?”

“You.”

“You’re sending me away for this?”

Nikolai could argue all he wanted about how he just wanted his best people to get the sword, but Irina knew better.

“Yeah. If anything the Durast said is true, I don’t want you anywhere near Ravka while the Darkling is still alive.”

“That’s not fair. You need every loyal person right here.”

“Irina.”

“Nikolai.”

“I do trust you and Tolya to get the sword. He’ll need an Inferni to cross the Fold, that’s where you come in. And even if this little mission didn’t succeed, I’d still feel better knowing you’re not within the Darkling’s range.”

She shook her head. “Do you think I feel any better knowing I’m leaving you here alone?”

“I’m not alone! I have the Sun Summoner!” He walked to his closet, pulled an army pack from it, and handed it to his sister. “Everything you need is already here. Including your coat.”

She stared at her brother for a few seconds before taking the bag from his hand. “You’re awfully prepared.”

“I always am.”

“Was this your plan since the beginning?”

He shrugged. “I have my own bag, too.”

She shook her head. “And what do I do? Am I supposed to be Irina or Ainthe?”

“Whatever feels right to you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You’ll know when the moment comes.”

“Nikolai.”

“Irina, do whatever you want. I’m not letting you live in my shadow forever. This is your time to make your own decisions.”

“I want to stay.”

“Except that one,” he tried to smile but failed. He stood before his sister, staring at her as if trying to remember the sight of her. “Look, I don’t know what’s going to happen here, but it doesn’t look good. Should anything happen to me or Vasily, you’ll know what to do. But please, just do me this one favor and step away, at least until we can defeat those shadow creatures. Please.”

It wasn’t like Nikolai Lantsov to beg. Irina knew right then just how much she meant to her brother. He was willing to send her away on a permanent vacation just so she wouldn’t have to face the horrors that roamed freely in Ravka. 

You do what you have to do to protect the people you love. But how do I protect you?

But before Irina could ask, Nikolai was already shoving her out of his room.

“Get ready, you leave at three bells.”

The door was closed after her, leaving a confused and quite afraid young girl in an empty hall of the Spinning Wheel.

Almost automatically, Irina simply followed his instructions, changing into her old pirate’s clothes and keeping her mind as empty as possible. She didn’t have time to cry. It wasn’t the first time the girl left on a mission for a few days without her brother, but for some reason, she knew things would be much different once she came back.

Her red coat felt like a second skin on her, and for a split second, she grinned. The blood in her veins and the coat in her arms would always be something she shared with Nikolai. 

It didn’t take her long to walk back onto the main entrance, where her small party was waiting, together with Mal and Tamar..

“If anyone can find Neshyenyer, I suspect it’s them,” Mal agreed. “Thick as thieves, those Crows. Clever too. Managed to cross the Fold on some sort of fortified train.”

“Last time I was in Ketterdam, I didn’t get to stop at the Kooperom for an omelet,” Tolya commented out loud.

Tamar groaned. “Oh, so that’s why you volunteered. Without me, who’ll stop you from following your stomach off the edge of a cliff?”

“That’d be me.” Irina stepped into the light, joining their conversation. 

Tolya almost broke his neck at the sound of her voice, smiling a wide grin as he got his pistol ready. Tamar’s eyes twinkled at the prospect of her best friend and her brother on a mission together, and she would’ve made another smart remark at that had Zoya Nazyalensky not interrupted them.

“I thought we were leaving at three bells?”

Irina had yet to share a word with the Squaller, but her stiff posture and annoyed voice almost made her roll her eyes. She did recoil at the sight of the princess, but she still looked at Tolya with a questioning glance.

“Tolya’s trying to cram his entire poetry library into his pack,” Tamar smiled at his brother as he gave him his last book, which didn’t fit.

Zoya frowned, disgusted. “Poetry?”

Tolya began. “Long may the night whose dark–”

“No,” Zoya cut him off, making Tamar giggle and Tolya frown. “There’ll be none of that.”

Mal patted him on the back and whispered to the remaining party. “Bring back Neshyenyer for Alina, alright?”

“We will, don’t worry,” Irina said, taking the book from Tolya’s hand and shoving it into her backpack, not missing the appreciative grin the giant sent her way.

The three of them followed Zoya, who had already opened the door to the outside and was walking down the stairs.

“That was from Rabinov’s Cantos. A definitive work.”

Tamar trailed after them. “Yeah, now let’s go over the snacks you’ll bring back from Shu Han…”

“Guys? A word?” Nikolai suddenly called as they were about to exit.

The four of them stood at the entrance, looking at each other with fondness in their hearts.

“Take care of each other. I know I don’t have to worry about you two out there together, but be careful.” 

Tolya nodded, with a solemn expression. “I’ll protect her with my life.”

Irina scoffed. “Don’t be dramatic.”

“Good.” Nikolai shook Tolya’s hand decisively, before bringing him closer for a quick hug.

“Your brother’s an idiot.” Irina looked at Tamar, who had watched the interaction with a smirk.

“I know.” She smiled. “Be careful, okay?” Tamar tightly hugged her friend, rubbing her back. “And don’t let Tolya eat all of Shu-Han’s sweets. He’s got to bring some back for me.”

Once they parted, Irina looked again at Nikolai. Whatever emotion wanted to escape through her eyes was quickly repressed, if only for a few seconds until her brother couldn’t see her anymore.

“Say goodbye to Madraya for me?” she offered a weak smile. 

Nikolai nodded. “Try not to set anything on fire,” he joked, before crashing into her body and embracing his little sister tightly. “Stay safe.”

“You too,” she whispered as she closed her eyes, her heart cracking slightly at the finality of their words.

“Alright, c’mon, group hug,” Nikolai joked again, and Irina laughed loudly when she felt two pairs of arms embracing them, basking in their warmth for a few seconds before they parted once again. “Come back to us.”

“We will.”

Next chapter

[repo-net]

How do you think Nagisa would react if the other warriors were the mastermind instead of Monaca

Oooh, that's a fun question. Thanks for submitting it, anon!

I'm going to assume that you mean if any of three other WoH had Monaca's ideals and goals rather than the pickle herself? I've actually never given this one much thought until you submitted it, but I'm always down to explore/give my own take on Nagisa's relationships with the other three kiddos.

To generalize the points I'll make, I think the one thing that'll stick with Nagisa finding out that Masaru/Jataro/Kotoko was pulling the strings is that he'd be able to stand his ground much, much better than how he took it when Monaca revealed her true motives, and he'd likely be able to keep himself composed; at least until the matter of expectations gets brought up.

Although Nagisa loves those three dearly and would put himself in danger before letting any of them get harmed, Monaca was a special attachment that he had. I've said this in previous posts, but I do think Nagisa's kind of had a hunch that there's something wrong with Monaca, and one reason why becoming leader meant so much to him is that maybe with that authority he can convince her to get to a paradise without like, committing a full-blown genocide.

I'll surrender that It's a little hard to imagine the three of them actually having it in them to lead something as diabolical as Monaca's plans, but maybe my imagination just isn't wild enough, eheh.

For the sake of storytelling, I think how this would play out in terms of the other Warriors getting sic'ed would be:

Chapters 1-2 are occupied by the two from Masaru/Jataro/Kotoko that aren't the mastermind, while Nagisa takes the lead in Chapter 3 and tries to deal with Komaru and Toko before realizing that he can't beat them, so Chapter 4 starts off with him as usual - trying to get both of them to leave Towa City before the eventual confrontation with one of the three other WoH being the mastermind. As for where Monaca would fit into all this, uhh. No clue. But she isn't really an important factor in this post.

Individually though, Nagisa's reactions to the three other Warriors being masterminds...

Masaru

More than anything, he's actually shocked. Masaru being the one is what would take him off guard the most. While Monaca broke him; it was because he repressed/denied the possibility because he wanted to believe he could trust her. This is an option he never accounted for, and it's because Nagisa thinks Masaru would be too much of a dunce to pull something like this off.

The initial reaction would be something akin to dismissal, before realizing 'oh shit, he's actually serious?'. That's when the anger kicks in. Not so much fear, but just pure vexation at the fact that he of all people thought that something as insane as creating a second Junko would be a good idea.

Nagisa'll threaten Masaru that he'll tell on Monaca, but Masaru at this point likely doesn't care. This version of Masaru likely rules through power and would probably just bullrush through his enemies to get his way. I could honestly believe in the idea that he'd be cruel enough to show Komaru her parents' corpses in a similar fashion to how the pickle did it. (Actually, all three of them should be able to...)

This Nagisa would probably want to throw hands with Masaru because his opinion on Masaru already isn't the greatest and he gets annoyed by him pretty easily; but having a reason to go from 'well he's kind of annoying but he's still a good friend to me' to actually hating him - it's a transition that gives Nagisa motivation to actually fight back. Though he'll probably realize soon enough that trying to hurt a P.E kid when the one thing you flunked in school is P.E would be a terrible idea...

Though self-doubt issues would surface, Nagisa would find it easier to deny Masaru's taunts and telling him that nobody expects anything from him in comparison to being told the same ideas by Monaca. This version of Nagisa likely makes it past Chapter 4 because he runs off to Monaca. Kotoko and Jataro are absent here, so Monaca and Nagisa would probably alarm Tokomaru about what's about to go down.

Jataro

"He was always kind of strange, but to think that this is what he had in mind all along...?" - That's what would settle in. Unlike with Masaru's reveal, Jataro's would make Nagisa put things into perspective for a bit as he realizes that maybe all those gross things Jataro told him were his actual thoughts and not just ways to get Nagisa to hate him.

Heck, I think he'd genuinely be wondering at first if this is just another one of Jataro's ways to get Nagisa to hate him, because Nagisa's aware enough to realize that Jataro might think Nagisa doesn't hate him unlike the other Warriors because he's been far more patient with him and doesn't pick on Jataro.

This one would have a much softer Nagisa - he'd ask if any of the other Warriors have been going overboard with their teasing/bullying and that's what's making Jataro act out like this. Even when he's already showing himself off to be evil, Nagisa would still be concerned for mask boy's well-being.

(Actually, that could be a motive for why a MM!Jataro would want to pursue a second gen Junko, no? Maybe because Junko was the only one who seemed to care for him/give him what he really wants, and now Jataro wants to have something akin to that now that Junko's gone.)

Eventually, Nagisa'll realize that Jataro's a lost cause and he'll turn his back on him. With Masaru and Kotoko absent from the Warriors here; he again tells on Monaca - but as strange as it may sound, I think Jataro would be much more eager to go after Nagisa and make sure he doesn't ruin his plans than Masaru. Nagisa still seeming to harbor some sort of pity instead of hatred towards Jataro would push the latter over the edge and he might just finish the job himself. Though of course, all of this is just speculation on my end.

Kotoko

All the masks finally come off here. And out of all three - Nagisa would be pretty quick to believe in the idea that Kotoko was puppeting the strings all along. This is less because of an inherent bias against her, thinking that she's always been evil; but rather that if anyone had the capacity to be so violently cruel, it'd be the one who's been an actress since she was born.

I feel as though the sequence of events that would play out are pretty similar to how it goes down with Monaca, and that's because Kotoko would know how to push all the buttons to set Nagisa off, and she already has the attitude/malice to pull it off if she were a much darker character than her canon self.

Since Kotoko knows how to push Nagisa over the edge and break him like Monaca did in canon; Nagisa's reaction here mirrors how he is in UDG proper - utterly defeated, but this time it's because Kotoko would taunt him, telling him that nobody would ever believe him if he tried to snitch on her, because who would trust the smart, calculating Nagisa over sweet, innocent Kotoko, right?

She'd also be able to lure Nagisa into doing her bidding in a similar fashion to Nagisa's - Nagisa doesn't have it in him to hurt Kotoko and she's fully aware of Monaca's crush on Nagisa; but instead of childishly teasing him over it, it's using it against him - maybe something along the lines of threating to harm Monaca if Nagisa tries to tell her/betray Kotoko.

Because of that, Nagisa's fate here is likely the same as it is in UDG. Gets 'crushed' by a robot at the end, never to be seen again.

[fishysplayhouse]

I should probably explain my theory on how Headspace Resets connect to artificial selection!

According to google, artificial selection is "the identification by humans of desirable traits in plants and animals, and the steps taken to enhance and perpetuate those traits in future generations." While thinking about the game's canon lore from a simpler point of view, this might be harder to understand or think about. If you look at Sunny's Headspace through a biological point of view you might see the connections clearer. Traveling through Deeper Well, you'll encounter many unfamiliar creatures each with different direct callouts to the Dreamer and his repressive tendencies. One of these creatures, Blank, says "Your memories are not free. To gain a

memory, another must be shrouded." When humans artificially select a plant, animal, or some kind of organism, it's to perfect it and bury it's former self into the past. Although this is a bit of a stretch, it's only one interpretation.

A second observation made is the many resets of Headspace and/or Dreamworld. Deeper Well was a place mostly pushed back and forgotten by Sunny, but other locations like the Abyss, the Dungeon in Sweetheart's castle, and many Blackspace Areas/Rooms have evidence of how Resets affect the current Headspace we know now.

In the Abyss and the Dungeon, four skeletons resembling the party can be found. One skeleton wears Aubrey's bow so it can only be assumed that that is her. These skeletons are likely the friends who have perished in previous adventures, and every time they died they were left forgotten and replaced by better and stronger versions of themselves.

(I could go ON AND ON about Blackspace for days but for simplicity purposes I'll choose two areas for this) Blackspace Areas like Disco Area and Reef Area both places with qualities of resets/loops. Disco Area is similar in apperance to Neighbor's Room; both having large and colorful yet mysterious cats and bright colors. Most memories regarding the truth, or simply just things not good enough, or too ridiculous are thrown into Blackspace which is the deepest part of Sunny's mind. Disco Area is likely Sunny's first attempt after the incident at creating a place of peace like Neighbor's Room. Though, it clearly failed. (This part of the theory was inspired by something else someone had said about Disco Area and Loquacious Cat being an earlier generation of Neighbor's Room. I wish I could credit that person but I forgot the account >_<)

According to the Omori Fandom Wiki for Reef Area, it is said that "In the game's files, the faceless characters are referred as MANNEQUINS, implying that these versions are a product of BLACK SPACE or remnants from OMORI's previous adventures before resetting HEADSPACE multiple times." Another thing mentioned in the trivia section is "As the heads that are stuck in the walls are the only version of the HEADSPACE friends in the area to have eyes and appear to be asleep, it can be inferred that the REEF AREA is the place where new bodies for the HEADSPACE friends are mass produced in case of an event in which they all die." Through speculation it can be inferred that every version of the Dreamworld friendgroup are "produced" in some kind of unnatural way.

In conclusion, the way Sunny's Headspace works is very fantastic in a strange sense. Omori, or Sunny's consious/imagination is so strong that it can repurpose, enhance, and saturate people, places, and objects to even better and more useful versions of themselves. His will to erase anything relating to Mari's death and the truth is so strong that all of these events have taken place, and Omori selects things for their most perfect traits.

This is just a silly little theory though, and i'd like to here your thoughts, opinions, or additions to this! I hope this helps you when you learn about artificial and natural selection in biology class :D

[This is from 2023 and I posted it on my instagram originally! I know this analysis may have flaws but its nice to compare my biggest hyperfixation and my favorite childhood interest together.]

[michaelmilligan]

Adam being a repressed queer guy who also doesn't want to talk about his feelings would make sense since he grew up in the 90's and 2000's (and also didn't have much time to figure himself out on Earth, plus, ya know, John). But I think it would be so funny if he came out of the cage like:

'I have not spoken to another human in over a thousand years. My only company was this equally repressed daddy's boy with eldest daughter syndrome, who surprisingly knows nothing about gender. When I told him that pink is for girls, he just stared at me blankly with all his two millions eyes for like a solid three hours. A few years later, when I mentioned something similar, he told me that someone should inform the poor male flamingos that they are apparently breaking a gender law. He once told me most of his previous vessels did not wear pants, and he didn't mean that they were walking around naked. When I jokingly said that I was the one wearing the pants in this relationship, I accidentally discovered that while they don't have faces, angels can still blush.

'Anyway, where was I going with this. Oh, yeah. So. If I want to sing along to the soundtrack of High School Musical and cry about missing several generations of Pokémon, that's my business and mine alone. And anyone who disagrees with that can kindly get smote by my live-in-boyfriend-wife. <3 Hope this helps.'

[mbti-notes]

Anon wrote: Hi mbti-notes, thank you for replyimg to my previous question. I'm the person who asked you how to stand up for myself in the face of people humiliating me for how I look. After some reflectiom, I have some questions to ask with regards to this topic.

I showed a friend a picture of 12 year old me, when I was bullied. She was surprised and told me I seemed so carefree, cheerful, expressive and an exciting and fun person to have around. Never in a million years me or my 12 year old self would have imagined someone describing me with those terms. Altough I objectively agree with her assessment, as I didn't have any fear to be authentic and express my emotions back then, I was made to feel like the most unwanted piece of worthless dirt by my peer group, and that's what I believed my entire life.

Sometimes I would attract boys romantically, so I think it was because they were able to see what my friend saw recently. But I was still almost universally denigrated, so I am confused. I came to the realization that those kids (and these adults as of recently, but also people in general) wanted to control me through shaming. The question is why? Why do they want to control me? By putting me down and telling me I am not entitled to be respected because of my appearance (that's what a drunkhard middle aged man told me in front of a crowd of strangers) what do these people get out of it?

I realized those kids (some of them who are now adult males still attempted to do it after all these years) wanted to dim my light, but why? Anyway, I realized they succeeded. I became a shell of my former self. I completely lost that authenticity and spontaneity. It still exists within me but I am unable to bring it out anymore. I am very aloof, cold, emotionless, expressionless and rigid on the outside. That's what my friend tells me now. For a long time I've felt like I didn't have the “right to exist” or allowed to have human emotions, which brings me to the second question. How can I be authentic again? I forgot both how to do it and I am afraid of doing it. I realized my problem is cowardice. I know what if I dare to affirm my existence, “express myself” and claim my space in the world I would draw a lot of attention and a lot of enemies who would try to “put me in my place” again.

Truth to be told, deep inside I don't actually hate or dislike myself, I am just obeying the people who tell me I should to in order to keep peace and “belong”. But belong to what exactly? Nothing. This is not peace and this is not belonging, but I guess I instinctively make this reasoning to justify my cowardice. I avoid to do the activities I want in order not to be seen and shamed by people (for example, I think I am highly likely to be humiliated in environments such as nightclubs, so I avoid them, which makes me feel bad in turn because I am repressing myself and letting others dictate my actions and the way I live, and the thing I want the most is freedom to be myself and live however I want without fear of everybody's eyes on me).

I know that if I dare to be confident, self-assured and expect the the best out of things, people are gonna despise me and try their hardest to put me back in my place, so I hate myself to appease them, which makes no sense because I am despised both when I make myself small and make myself unimportant and when I act confident. I'm still paid dust when I put myself down for others' appeasement, yet I still do it. I don't know why. It must be mental laziness. I was raised to be passive and punished for advocating for myself so maybe I'm just sticking to an easy habit. People at large think “ugly people” deserve less, so it enrages them when they see someone breaking the social rules they abide to at their own detriment. That's the conclusion I reached. Am I missing something? How do I move from here? How do I find the courage to claim my place in the word and deal with conflit and opposition?

If this can help with your assessment, I also pondered an early childhood memory. I was in kindergarten and other children where organizing a “theatrical play”. I wanted the main character role. After fighting for it they gave it to me, but I was afraid of everybody looking at me and having their attention so I gave the role up to someome else. So I wanted the “main character” role and the attention but at the same time I was afraid of being the main character and getting the attention I desired. I don't know why exactly. I don't remember being shamed for my appearance back then (I didn't have the traits I would be later shamed on), but I remember feeling unseen and unwanted. Maybe it originated from an early memory in my life. I saw two little boys on a slide and I asked them if I could climb and play with them. They laughed at me and told me no, and I remember feeling rejected and shaken to the core by this.

About my other question, as I said, I used to be able to attract romance as an early teen. But after I “shut down” that hasn't happened ever since. I am no longer that person and right now I feel like I am incapable of attracting love. How can I attract love again in the current way that I am?

And lastly, I've never took care of my appearance (as in, dressing well), I would always wear the same 3 shirts and sweatpants because I thought it was useless for me to care about these things since I would get shamed anyway, but lately I've found that I want to start dressing well, do my hair, wear some accessories and a dress (feminine), so when I wore a good outfit my self-esteem instantly shot up, so I am worried about my self-esteem depending on what I wear. How do I prevent that from happening? Also, how do I know if I'm dressing well “for myself” or for social validation and as a cover up for low self-esteem? Because I don't want it to be for the latter reason, so how does one draw the line between these two aspects when it comes to this topic?

---------------------

If you are referencing a previous post, please provide the post number from the url. If I have to dig for it, it takes time away from writing a response.

1) Distorted Cognition: You are wasting a lot of mental energy being preoccupied with how other people react to you. Why? With your past experience, you've convinced yourself that everyone in the world is a (potential) threat, which is simply untrue. No matter where you go in the world, there are kind people and there are mean people, and a very small minority of violent people. Unfortunately, you have been unlucky to encounter a lot of mean people.

However, what you don't realize is that your mind is now primed to pick out and remember mean people the most, which makes you a bit blind to the kind people around you. Living in fear means that you are always on the lookout for threats, and then that's all you ever see. Start looking for something else, such as the kind people, and you may find that your perception of the world shifts. Once you start to notice kind people more, you will be in a better position to surround yourself with them, which would dramatically change your social life. But first you have to recognize that not everyone is out to hurt you.

People who have experienced trauma such as bullying are often prone to emotional reasoning. Emotional reasoning is unhealthy because it distorts your perceptions, beliefs, judgments, and decision making. If this is not something you can stop on your own, then it is a good idea to work with a therapist.

2) Lack of Boundaries: You waste mental energy ruminating on why mean people are mean. By doing this, you are essentially taking on other people's baggage as your own. The way you live should be decided through the power of individual choice, but by fixating on others, you cede this power to them. Is someone forcing you to do this? No. You are volunteering time and effort that could otherwise be spent on living your life authentically.

Why are mean people mean? Frankly, it is irrelevant. You are making their meanness matter (and thus making jerks matter), probably because your thinking is unrealistic due to unhealthy Ni. If you're anything like other immature Fs, you walk around thinking that everyone "should" be nice and affirming. If you didn't have such an underlying belief or desire or fantasy, then you wouldn't react so badly when reality proves you wrong. Rather, you'd simply accept the fact that some people are nice and some people aren't, and then adapt accordingly in the moment.

What you haven't understood is that it doesn't matter how beautiful you are, how awesome your personality is, how much success or glory you achieve in life, there are always going to be people who dislike or even hate you for their own personal reasons. When you learn how to truly respect people's right to have their own thoughts rather than expecting them to have the thoughts you want them to have, then you'll understand that their thoughts don't have to be yours. You'll finally realize that what other people think, say, or do is really none of your business, and then you'll be able to focus on what's most important, which is living your life as well as you can.

Do what is best for your well-being. Wear whatever clothes you want to express who you are. Explore the world and learn more about yourself. If people don't like it, that's their business, but does it have to be your business? Their thoughts don't have to matter at all. It's simply a choice you make about where to focus your attention. The world is constantly bombarding us with all kinds of things, but not all of it requires a reaction or response, does it? Developing mature Ni requires you to learn how to tune out everything that doesn't relate directly to your main purpose.

Review my previous reply. I already brought up boundaries. Until you learn to create a healthy boundary between yourself and others, you will keep getting overrun or violated by others. If drawing healthy boundaries is something you aren't able to learn on your own, then it is a good idea to work with a therapist. You can also take workshops in assertiveness, communication skills, and conflict resolution skills to help improve your social confidence. There are lots of ways to improve your situation, but how are you going to take advantage of those opportunities when all of your attention is misspent on trying to make sense of the jerks in the world?

[karatekels]

TIGmas Day #3 – Clear As Mud

Hello and happy third day of TIGmas, everyone – and sorry I’m late! Today’s story is dedicated to @senka-mesecine (aka @terrence-silver), whose stories are always among my favourites! This is actually an idea that I initially wanted to explore during Dark Desires October that I couldn’t get to in time. I’ll admit that the idea was heavily inspired by senka’s deliciously dark writing, so when she asked for this to be her TIGmas story I was over the moon! I hope you this story was worth the wait!

All that being said, this story is very dark and in no way full of Christmas cheer.

Summary: You’ve tried to get Terry to open up about his time in Vietnam on more than one occasion, and while he’s been doing his best to help you understand, he ultimately decides that the best way to help you is to put you through something similar, hunting you in the middle of a forest at sunset.

TW: Discussions of PTSD, stalking (more like hunting), horror, rough sex, graphic sex, outdoor sex, dubcon/(consensual) non-consent (it’s really hard to tell how much say anyone has when it comes to being involved with Terry Silver, after all – regardless, it’s not something I condone irl)

Note: Sections in italics are flashbacks to previous conversations about the war.

---

Clear as Mud

---

This was hell.

“War is hell,” he had told you countless times before – he’d made use of the cliched saying on numerous occasions, but it had always rung hollow, an expression rendered meaningless from general overuse.

But now, trudging through the thick, muddy woods surrounding Terry’s chateau in the mountains in the hot, humid night, you think you’re beginning to understand that the saying was in no way hyperbole.

“How many times do we have to have this discussion, Y/N!? I told you, I don’t want to have this conversation,” Terry had growled, his body visibly thrumming with tension as he tried to keep himself under control. You give him a pitying expression, your heart going out to him, but you’re resolute in your pursuit to get him to talk about his trauma.

“Vietnam was such a significant time in your life, Terry. I know you’ve got a lot of repressed to protect yourself, but if you’re not willing to see a therapist about it, you have to at least try to let me in,” you beg, trying to deescalate and keep him calm, reaching for his hand. He moves out of your reach in a quick, jarring movement, his eyes wild and angry, and you try not to let it upset you too much.

“It’s okay, Terry. I’m not upset, and I’m not scared of you. I know that you’ve killed people, a–”

Terry interrupts you with a guttural noise, pushing you against the wall roughly. You stay perfectly still.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong, baby girl. You don’t know,” he murmurs quietly, pressing his body tightly against yours, overwhelming your senses. “We didn’t ‘kill people’; we eliminated obstacles,” he says flatly, stroking your hair absent-mindedly while he glares at something off in some imagined distance.

“Some with weapons pointed at you, many without. Men, women, children, we tried not to pay that much attention. It’s when you see them as people that you start to think, so we were trained to use our trigger fingers, not our brains.”

Despite being sandwiched between the wall and Terry’s chest, your body still finds a way to tremble with fear, though you try to suppress it.

“War is hell, Y/N,” he says, smiling sardonically at the cliché, his grip on your hip and your throat tightening; you don’t even remember him starting to choke you, but you find the edges of your vision getting blurry. “Not because you’re being shot at constantly, watching your brothers die, losing your will to live, but because you find yourself doing the same thing right back to somebody else.”

Terry reaches between your bodies to his belt, and you feel yourself tense minutely, knowing he would notice. He always needed to fuck you after talking about the War; he said that you helped him forget, even though what you desperately wanted was for him to remember, to work through it, to ease his conscience.

Sure enough, he’s got you slid up the wall, your legs around him as he fucks you deep and rough like he’s trying to crawl into your body. You do your best to hold on, every noise that passes your lips indistinguishable as either a moan or a whimper, Terry whispering nonsense into your hair as he chases after his orgasm like a man possessed.

“Makes you wonder if you’re the damned or the Devil,” he pants in your ear, licking up the single tear that trails down your cheek.

A branch snaps somewhere close by and you attempt to stifle the cry of pure, primal fear that bursts forth from your lips. Your body aches from the tension of holding still, freezing as every part of you strains to hear him, to see any hint of movement through the thick foliage.

He had proposed to you three nights ago, the heavy ring now safely on your bedside table – he’d suggestedthat you remove it during tonight’s… activities. Terry has always been mercurial, but this sudden turn from lavishing you with extravagant gifts and his love as you celebrated your engagement to outright hunting you through the forest for sport is demented, not to mention terrifying.

You aren’t sure what his goal is, what the end point will be, how you’ll know that it’s finally over. Does he mean to hunt you forever?

Can you even be considered ‘prey’ if you’ve willingly walked into the trap he set for you, and continue to stay in with full awareness and knowledge?

The sun continues to set, bathing the woods in bloodred light.

“You could be hiding in the muck, in a hole in the ground blown open by landmines for hours, days even,” Terry had told you, his gaze hardening as he looked off into nothing. “You’re scared to breathe, scared to feel sunlight on your skin – it leaves you exposed. Then you watch your friends get picked off like flies, bullets in their brains or landmines turning them into mulch.”

You try to force yourself to breathe slowly, deeply, regularly, but quietly; Terry would pick up on the slightest hint of noise on the wind. The small part of you that wants to just stand out in the open and let him find you – to end this – is drowned out by the thudding of your own heartbeat in your ears. You know there’s no reasoning with him; you can’t even reason with yourself.

You hear a piercing whistle from Terry’s lips, a chilling tune that echoes through the mountains that make your hair stands on end; at least, the hair not plastered to your skin by the thick mud smattered across your body. Unable to help yourself, you flee from your hiding spot, aimlessly sprinting, your sense of direction narrowing to just away.

“Fear keeps you alert, keeps you sharp. Keeps you alive.”

You hear his pounding footsteps coming after you, crunching leaves and twigs underfoot. You know how silently he can move; he’s stomping around just to scare you.

It’s working.

Your shirt snags, caught on another branch, and this time you just tear it off, leaving the tattered scrap of fabric behind you, dangling like a flag at half-mast. Your torso now bare, the cuts from your previous run-ins with the foliage are exposed to the air, stinging faintly. You wonder if he can taste your blood in the air, like a shark; it wouldn’t surprise you at this point. Nothing could.

“They were chameleons, blending into the jungle to lie in wait. We couldn’t see ‘em even five feet in front of us, sometimes. I learned to be a ghost, but in the end it still wasn’t enough – none of it mattered. Except I had John.”

You wonder if John had ever stalked his significant other – or anyone, for that matter – through the forest for his own amusement. Somehow, you doubted it. And while you’d always had a healthy dose of fear for the only man who could keep Terry Silver in line, at this moment you wish more than anything that it was Kreese hunting you instead. At least he could be reasoned with.

As if to prove your point, Terry lets out a maniacal cackle that scares off the remaining birds, and you dive behind a fallen log, pressing yourself against it in the hopes of avoiding detection. The thick mud is chilly on your bare skin yet you find you want to burrow deeper into the puddle to conceal yourself, and would if the noise wouldn’t attract his attention.

Terry enters your line of sight, so silently you wouldn’t have known he was there unless you were looking right at him, and you narrow your eyes into slits, not wanting so much as a glimmer of light reflecting off of them to give you away. Watching the fluid, controlled way that his massive body moves through the trees as he hunts you, you’re reminded of the xenomorph; something so big shouldn’t be able to move so smoothly, so silently.

He finally moves out of your field of view, but you wait a good minute or two before daring to breathe normally. You shakily get to your feet, looking around you for Terry and for any indication of which way the house is; you’re completely disoriented on the side of this godforsaken mountain. You have to squint due to the fading sunlight, and that’s when you see him, calmly surveying you from the distance while leaned up against a tree, his mouth twisted into a smile. Despite the low light, his eyes seem to glint at you from across the clearing.

“T-Terry!” you exclaim, your voice an octave higher than normal. He makes no move towards you or to answer your question, his head still cocked to the side as he observes you with interest.

“Terry, please stop this!” you beg, your arms wrapped around yourself. He chuckles quietly in response, the low sound creeping across the space between you and sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, doll, that’s not how this works!” he tells you with a cold laugh. “There is no surrender.”

“What do you want from me, Terry?!” you exclaim, your voice hoarse with fear. “I just want this to be over!”

“It’ll be over when there’s only one man left standing,” he explains patiently, as though it was obvious. “When there’s a winner and a loser and the spoils of war are taken.”

You have no idea what that means, but you’re certain it’s nothing good.

“You either hunt or you are the hunted, Y/N,” he leers at you, finally moving to crouch into a runner’s stance that has you immediately stumbling back and away from him. “Get back to the house and I may show you some mercy.”

You cling to the likely empty promise like a lifeline, turning away and sprinting as fast as you can. You’re not even sure if you’re running in the right direction; he could be herding you somewhere else. Still, you have no choice but to keep moving forward, sensing him rapidly closing the distance between you.

But in the end, it doesn’t matter. You step down and feel something tighten around your ankle, the snare trap set off and lifting you into the air with a sickening crack of your ankle that has you screaming out in pain. Terry stops running, leisurely walking up to your dangling form and howling in victory; the hunt is over.

“I was so hoping you would run into one of these,” he confesses breathlessly, eyes bright as he takes you in, crouching down to be closer to your eye level. “You know what it does to me to see you helpless, Y/N,” he adds with a feral expression, his tone suggesting that you were intentionally tempting him.

“Terry, please!” you whimper up at him, tears blurring your vision as they slide around your eyes to drip off of your forehead and onto the forest floor. “I think my ankle is broken!”

“I’ll take care of it,” he says dismissively, but you do believe him. “For now, let me take you in.”

You do your best to ignore the pain and keep quiet as you hang by one leg, your body rotating slowly like it knew that Terry wanted to stare at you. As you slowly swing back around to face him again, you see he has pulled out his cock, pumping his shaft with a gloved hand. Seeing you watching, he closes the distance between you, reaching up above your ankle to steady the rope and keep you from spinning.

“Open,” he demands with a firm tap to your cheek, his hips level with your face. You suspect he had measured it out in advance for the express purpose of having you blow him while caught in a boobytrap.

“Terry, it hurts!” you manage to get out before he’s thrust himself inside your mouth. You reflexively stop trying to speak and relax your throat; he has trained you well.

“Spoils of war, doll. Gonna need you to earn your freedom,” he jokes, thrusting himself fully into you until you’re choking around his cock before releasing you, allowing you to catch your breath for a brief moment. “Now suck.”

You obey, just trying to focus on getting free before all the blood rushes to your head, the forest silent save for the lewd, wet noises coming from your mouth around his dick and Terry’s occasional grunt of pleasure.

“It’s not the same, you know,” he murmurs quietly after a prolonged silence. “You’ll never understand what it was like being there, no matter how many times I try to tell you, try to show you.”

So that’s what this was all about, you realize with equal parts pity and dread. He had grown weary of trying to explain his time during the War to you, and was trying to show you instead.

Christ, he was fucked up.

Somehow, in spite of everything, it only strengthens your resolve to help him.

“You’ll never know what it’s like, to be faced with someone and not know if they’re with you or against you, and only having a fucking second to decide!” he snarls while fucking your face, his large hands holding your body steady, fingernails digging in past the mud and into your flesh.

Next thing you know, he’s lifting your body up, cradling you against his chest, one hand reaching up and yanking the trap free from the branch in one sharp pull, lowering you both to the ground and crawling on top of you.

“But you don’t need to know it, baby,” he continues, though you’re unsure how much he’s really talking to you at this point. His hands tear at your pants, pushing them and your underwear down to your knees, pointedly not exacerbating your ankle. He wasn’t completely out of his mind, then. Why couldn’t he just talk about his issues? This perverse simulation is just creating issues of your own.

“You don’t need to know it,” he repeats, looking down at you, muddy and scratched and hurting, like you were his salvation. He pushes your knees to either side, working his length inside of you and pushing you further into the ground. You feel tree roots press into your back, bound to give you bruises.

“I’m gonna keep you from all of that shit; gonna keep you safe, babygirl,” he pants, breath hot against your neck as he ruts into you. You find yourself clinging to him desperately, nails digging into his broad shoulders as you cry out into the night – for yourself, for him, for your pleasure.

“You’re my saving grace, baby, my own little Lady Liberty,” he coos, baring his teeth all the while. “Flip over for me.”

You roll onto your belly, gritting your teeth against the pain radiating from your ankle as you do so, and push your ass up towards him. Terry is immediately on you again, his arms bracing himself on either side of you as he presses against you, fucking you into the mud with an animalistic growl.

“You save me just how you are, just like this,” he hisses, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust that has you groaning into the soft earth against your lips. “And you’re gonna stay just like this, sweet and warm and mine, my little haven, my little sweet spot, isn’t that right baby?”

“YES!” you howl, throwing your head back as you dig your nails into the dirt, bracing yourself as he pounds into you. “Let it out, let me take it for you!”

Your words seem to make Terry snap; he pushes your face down into the mud, hips hammering against yours hard and fast and deep until he’s coming hard inside you with a guttural snarl.

Fisting your hair, he pulls your head up and turns it to the side to let you breathe, even as he collapses on top of you. You gasp for breath, trying to wipe the mud off of your face, but it’s hopeless and you give up after a moment, stroking Terry’s arm where it’s wrapped around you.

Eventually Terry sits up, tucking himself back into his pants, somehow still barely muddy, and looks around the forest floor. He finds a thick branch, snapping it into pieces, and sets about making a splint for your ankle, not saying a word. You observe him quietly, the odd wince escaping you as he secures the splint to your foot. Satisfied with his work for the time being, he shrugs off his jacket, wrapping your naked body with it to get you warm before lifting you into his arms, mindful of your injured leg.

“Thank you,” you offer quietly, looking down at your foot instead of up at him as he carries you back home. You’re nearly embarrassed at how close you were this whole time. Terry adjusts you, his gaze never faltering as he moves you to look him in the eye.

“Thank you, my love,” he returns with a sly grin. “For helping me talk things out,” he clarifies, letting out a laugh at his twisted euphemism.

You don’t see the humour in the situation, but won’t be pushing him to open up about the War again for the foreseeable future.

---

This is far and away the darkest thing you can expect from me this month, I promise! That said, I can’t say I’d mind something in this vein as a Christmas present… 🥵

[mamawasatesttube]

just read house of kent arc and. hmmm. many thoughts mixed feelings. its like... it was an overall pretty nice superfam story and the clois+jon parts in particular were solid and good, and i care them, but man. everything abt kon's storyline in there and them trying to figure out his whole deal just really got used as a framing device and not an actual plotline... which i mean i kind of expected bc hes not the main character but at the same time the way its just entirely sorta handwaved as "oh well no answers but its cool!" is kinda frustrating. but of course that does come with the caveat that i generally just do not like rebirth kon's setup and storyline.

i just cant fucking get over this sentiment kon expresses outright here... clark is trying but jesus the situation is so existentially fucked up. hey man your grandparents remember you but no one else you knew including the rest of the supers does bc you never existed here. also we randomly threw in some stuff about how you might lose all your powers for some reason? but anyway at least youve got the farm buddy :)

(it's also frustrating re: kon's arc and general situation bc bendis is just not very consistent w explaining it. cassie remembers yj existing somehow, ma and pa remember kon when they see him, but clark never does. this is explained as him having memory issues bc of having universe-jumped so much, but if that was actually the case then youd think the random people in yj19 who kon meets, like the security worker who asks if he's jon, would also recognize him like ma and pa did. and then there's the way tim and steph supposedly have magically repressed memories, only steph's never return the way tim's do, but it's never brought up again? and tim only recovers these memories when zatanna gets around the block in his head but we just never find out what put that there to begin with, nor do we ever discuss any narrative impact of it so its kind of like well what was the point ...? why establish tim having this when cassie doesn't??? is it just to explain the previous tim line about conner's name "tugging on his heart" without having to bother saying anything similar about cassie and simply brushing her aside there to focus on tim's memories??? idk. there is just so little consistency around any of this. which i knew going in but also GOD. comics im on my knees im begging)

[grandhotelabyss]

The substack on "seperating the art from the artist" was interesting. But one detail lead me to a question - childrens books.

I know it was mostly used to mock people who don't want to engadge with anything "icky" as the demographic probably likes to say, but still.

So the question is, should books for kids be squeaky clean, be these gardens of eden were no evil shows its head, till they grow into the maturity which will let them confront the barbarity of literature vis a vis reality?

One could already use this as a segway to argue the opposite - that with the amount of adults not being able to deal with literature going against their provincal pseudo-morals, children should be "trained" from young age to not be like that - the point of childhood is paradoxically to grow out of it, even if many dont want to.

But on the other hand, and this may reveal myself to be the object of the previous high-nosed snot shower:

I kinda do feel "icky" when I think about all these kids books that try to be "hehe, I'm gonna show kids the real world!"

Like that Matilda author, forgot his name, I remember a year ago there was some fake drama about censorship which ofcourse was stupid but still

I do feel some kind of spite, that irony, that want to be subversive that goes against the idealised view of childhood.

Or maybe my realistic view - with all the cruelty and unavoidable misery - but that wants me to say, "why expose them to more of it?"

Because intuition tells me that those "edgy" childrens book have a simmilar ethos as a teenaged kid trying to teach a todler swear words, or to do a roman salute or whatever, this corrupting of the innocent for the sake of it.

But maybe this whole ramble is just the result of a Lacanian wish to crawl back into the vomb, my lile of Preussler's books just a want to become the little ghost who just can fly around in his eternal castle never growing up.

Still ofcourse I get that it is absurd to rant against Matilda with all the childrens media going way further in many ways and the fact that even I as a young child easily acceseed stuff I wasnt supossed to.

So maybe I answerred my own question - maybe there shouldnt even be childrens books in the first place, just books that are more and less apropriate for younger and yet younger kids.

(Also they should burn all those obviously on porpuse braindead picture books, you know the type lol)

Yes, as I discussed here, I didn't really read children's books unless made to and don't find it to be all that appealing a category. People thought comic books were like children's books, so I was happily reading Grant Morrison's occult phantasmagoria, Frank Miller's post-apocalyptic reactionary satire, and Alan Moore's Freudian traumatology of the archetypes at the age of five and six—and I wouldn't have it any other way. Anyway, the writers who shifted children's books out of their moralizing paradigm and into neo-modernist aesthetic integrity in the late 19th century tended to be either quasi-pedophiles like Carroll and Barrie or figures like Potter rather deliberately trying to expose children to the tooth-and-claw realities polite society otherwise evaded. Children's primordial innocence was a useful historical construct, the slowly evolving joint work of Christianity and the Enlightenment, and we are rightly suspicious of those who would tamper too much with it today; but it was a historical construct, it has produced its own return-of-the-repressed shadow (it's likely generated as much pedophilia as it's ever discouraged by inventing the taboo to be profaned), and it has been carried to unconscionable extremes of life-aversion and anti-intellectualism in our time (e.g., the "brain" doesn't "finish" till age 25 or whatever other ridiculous scientific myth of permanent incapacity we're supposed to believe based on the latest spate of fake "studies" these days). People are probably just people at any age from the onset of consciousness forward—I am aware of no great shift in the core of my identity since about the age of five and never thought of myself as a child—and, because there is alas no protecting everyone from everything in the end, they should at least be armed with knowledge and cultivation at the earliest possible moment.

[defeateddetectives]

had the year end fic review meme brewing in the drafts and forgot all about it until now so for my own reference and posterity's sake: 2k23 edition (while its still uh january!)

apparently i used to do this every year for a while and then had several years of writerly drought so here's manifesting more words for the years ahead!! as with previous years, using metrics from ao3

Total number of completed stories: 8

Total word count: ~8k or so

Fandoms written in: drrr!! (gasp), project k, jjk, natsume yuujinchou (really truly bar revival 2k23 or die trying!!!!!)

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you'd predicted? the last few years had totally sapped me creatively so the bar was on the floor. more than expected by that metric even if much less than i had relative to years before that.

What's your own favorite story of the year? kirigami probably! i guess the good thing about doing this a month into the new year is i dont have to mysteriously redact the yuletide reveal anymore :)

Did you take any writing risks this year? i posted drrr!! fic after ages and that wasnt bb gangsters-centric! and tried my hand at jjk characters' voices (posted only a tip of that iceberg) which was ~adventurous even though i still dont rly have a handle on em! birthright was a risk bc it was a total shot in the dark about a dynamic we havent even seen play out yet??? (more matoba siblings lore when, ms. midorikawaaaa)

Do you have any fanfic or ofic goals for the New Year? just telling myself to keep writing, dont overthink it, and remember everything you write will generally sound awkward and clunky after reading it for the 100th time without stepping away

My best story of this year: i never have an objective measure on this so my fave(s) are typically the best to me

My most popular story of this year: parthian shot & saccades are tied at this moment by ao3 kudos science if we're going by that!

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion: nothing stands out over the year

Most fun story to write: a few come to mind. though it was a v tiny memefill, i had a lot of fun with where the hours bend and it came very easily! fun fact: i was in the vicinity of houjicha cheesecake at the time and it subliminally crept into the fic which i only realized much later :')

more beautiful than night was also written amidst a self-indulgent single-sitting whirlwind with so much love and really felt like going back to basics because 2nd person mkiz nonsense is my brain's default state of being apparently <3

kirigami was wildly fun in a very different way like a puzzle i needed to crack and couldnt step away from until i did

Story with the single sexiest moment: mayhaps natori shuuichi ready to throw down at his first appearance in kirgami :D while maybe not what most people would call sexy, the entire dynamic and vibe throughout (anguished repressed bidirectional longing and all) was very sexy To Me!

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters: wound up contemplating izaya and celty's absolutely bonkers dynamic via zero sum game in a way i dont think i had before

Hardest story to write: kirigami bc of the mental gymnastics of remixing that original vol 28 canon arc that is an absolute masterpiece in storytelling in its own right. i was very intimidated about doing it justice and as a gift-fic as well! the months leading up to yuletide were also bananas overall so, all things considered, it's a miracle that it came through on time!!

parthian shot also comes to mind bc the current canonverse exorcists dynamic, as delicious as it is, feels so frail and tenuous and i find myself wanting to handle it with the utmost care and respect when trying to show it

Biggest Disappointment: the stories i invested a lot in, i wound up fairly happy with! [endless number of ancient wips glare at me in disappointment]

Biggest Surprise: bar revival 2k23 in its entirety tbh :') also probably the extent to which i fell into jjk/stsg hell but i guess you cant really tell from the finished works for better or worse!!!

[unhonestlymirror]

Dainų Šventė review:

What I liked:

The procession. People are sincerely happy to see you, people from the windows wave to you, children and adults hold out their hands for you to give them a high five. Feel like a real star.

Free food for participants. We were fed quite well and fast, the food was fresh and tasty, there wasn’t too much of it to fill our stomachs completely and deprive us of the ability to catch our breath.

Free water for everyone!

The view from the stage. When thousands of people raise their hands with flashlights, it looks like a field of stars, the feeling is indescribable.

Singing. I wonder what the viewer felt, because from the perspective of a singer, even you get excited when 12,000 people sing in unison. My favourite is Lietuvos Bruole, it was really epic.

Variety of costumes. An artist's paradise. Although there was absolutely no time, I still sharply regretted that I hadn't taken a sketchbook because I had never seen some ornaments in my life. (Photos from Delfi and LRT.)

Free badges. :D

There were a LOT of people from different countries, there was nowhere for the apple to fall - and the territory of Vingis Park was pretty huge.

The president of Estonia was there to watch the show, too.

Overall, it was a very interesting and useful experience.

What I disliked:

It was really physically tough. 6 months of local rehearsals, three common rehearsals, the dress rehearsal generally lasted from 6 PM until 1 AM - and right the next day, we had the main concert from 3 PM till 1 AM. If the adults all sat under the roof, then the children's choirs stood in the open air - and it didn't end well. Even Delfi wrote that as a result of the rain, 19 children fell ill and were unable to come to the concert. :/ Legs, back, neck hurt very badly, you lose your voice as a result of singing for many hours every day without the necessary breaks - and I was even lucky because many people didn't even have anything to sit on. I always wondered why people looked so sad and repressed on previous years' videos because Lithuanian songs are so beautiful... I think I understand now.

Even considering how energy-intensive it was - we were still forbidden to smile, to wave unauthorizedly, and even turn our heads to the screens on the sides (not during singing). :/ I just find this interesting because even in North Korea, they order people to illuminate happiness during such big events - but here, even if you really want to express happiness, you are not allowed to do that. In fact, during the dress rehearsal, the presenter forced us to re-sing some songs several times simply because some child smiled and waved at the camera - although by that time (around midnight) we could barely stand on our feet, we all wanted to sleep. For me personally, this really kills the desire not only to sing but even to come again. It's the Song Festival, not the Belarus Military Parade...

Unlike Belarus, we wouldn’t be put in prison here if we decided not to go. Maybe. None of us wanted to check, not even my pregnant friend. XD

We were ordered to come at 15:00 - but the procession started at 17:00. Why we were forced to stand for 2 hours under the scorching sun is unclear. There was free water, but you still had to leave your position to get it - and we were too scared to do that because no one knew when we were gonna start moving. I understand that the organizer wanted to add an element of solemnity, but for this, it was absolutely not necessary to slow everything down so much.

The tempo of the songs in general could have been made faster, imo. The audience also wants to sleep, after all.

About a dozen families of swifts lived under the roof, and in my opinion, we ruined their nighttime routine. XD

I hope that everyone who came to listen to us enjoyed the concert because we've put a lot of effort into it. :D

[shmowder]

ag;asdfjag hello so I stumbled across the "specific fetishes they have with no explanation" post you wrote for the BG3 companions. Can I please request something like that for the Patho characters? Anyone you feel like including.

Sorry to keep bringing up your other blog but my goodness, your anons weren't shy on there XD It's amusing to notice the difference in content and asks between these fandoms. @ pathologic enjoyers where is the horniness!!!! /lh

🐿️ anon

Ah yes that classic post, it started because I wanted to give someone a hand kink and the rest followed along. I like the concept of specific fetishes that aren't explained but are accepted as part of the person nonetheless. Imitating organic sexuality where sometimes people are into things for no apparent reason, why do I think knight armour is so hot? I will never know.

I miss it sometimes, how shamelessly direct anons were in the bg3 with their nsfw requests. Talking with someone who knows exactly what they want is always refreshing.

I enjoyed the different concepts and how conversations about sex and fetishes flowed so seamlessly. They clearly enjoyed what I was writing and were mature about it.

While the Pathologic fandom feels more juvenile? Like a repressed adult going to a sex shop for the first time. The nsfw requests are vague and always written timidly, testing the waters, rushed even. As if I'll just suddenly disappear if they're not the first in line.

It could be the fact x reader content is scarce in this fandom while in bg3 they were plentiful. I knew some bg3 blogs that wrote smut pieces that could make the devil blush, genuinely. It was the extreme bdsm and dark smut i have ever seen, and i loved it.

I'm not complaining, I enjoy both fandoms' unique approaches tbh. I simply match the energy that is given to me, reading between the lines and all. If I notice, the requester is timid, shy, and vague about what they want. I'll go with vanilla and soft, slow sex.

Unless someone directly tells me they want to hear about my thoughts when it comes to Oyun's clear humiliation & degradation kink and life/death play, then I simply keep it to myself.

This blog started as a meme blog after all, didn't it? I just wasn't sure I'll even post pathologic x reader tbh. I wanted a throw-away account to talk about the game in because I didn't want to sully my bg3 account with unrelated fandoms even more. There is no need to wear its corpse and parade it through the square, giving my previous readers hope i might come back only to show it was a different fandom wearing its skin.

I kept that in mind, which is why i tage my x reader works with...well ♧x reader. So the people who are here just for the memes can filter it out.

Compare the notes my memes, character study and plot analysis posts get against my x reader pieces. It's clear who the majority is.

BG3 simply had more people interested in x reader, so it paid off in the long run to focus on it. While here I wouldn't have made it out from under the radar if I hadn't posted any memes, would I? No one searches for pathologic x reader on tumblr because the goddamn tag didn't exist before me.

It doesn't help that at least 70% of people who read this genre are lurkers, as it is natural with fanfics in general but especially anything deemed "cringy" or "taboo". Especially in a fandom whos tries to be taken seriously and seems high-brow to onlookers, yk pathologic.

Take the Hysteria fic, for example. I thought it would set the tone for the rest of the account, yk? but all i got afterwards was fluffy requests, so the balance shifted towards a more romantic style.

Right now, I have been getting more requests and nsfw ones, especially, but it was you who helped break that seal and encouraged other anons to come out because of your interactions and sincerity.

I think it was your nsfw Victor and Yulia requests which offically broke the seal and showed lurkers I am willing to fully dive into smut, that no this isn't a mirage and yes they can requests as many dom Daniil stuff as they want. You would be surprised at how popular that man is in my inbox.

Me personally, I would've simmered down or slowly stopped the x reader pieces if someone didn't come along to show interest in my work. I already have the whole world and works in my brain, I can just keep it there for eternity.

The fun in writing requests are the requestors themselves, the lively discussions, the passion, and happiness. The sweet kind words afterwards, waiting to see their reaction to something I've poured my heart and perverted mind into.

I planned on writing many more ship fics for pathologic, but Lingum Vitea was left in the dust so I decided against sharing my ship writing with these people anymore. Petty? yeah, but it is my own writing at the end of the day.

That's why I enjoy posing on tumblr, the interactions, the anons. It truly feels like you're part of a community, which is what fanfics were about before. Hell, it was what all fandoms were about before, remember when artists received anons discussing their vision and inspiration?

Now it's radio silence on AO3, or maybe my style specifically didn't click with them? I don't like multie chaptered works, I get bored of ideas easily and I can tell a whole story in less than 3k words.

Either way.

Be unhinged if you want, or don't. You can do whatever you want for eternity. This is for any person currently reading this and not just you squirrel anon. I don't lose anything by your shyness at the end of the day, but you certainly do.

The chances you might miss on, the opportunities, the self-acceptance and fullfillment. Let those 13 layers of irony melt away, we can be mature again sex and fetishes, we are adults after all, aren't we?

God, I hate the fact I had to tag my sub/dom post with ♧crack just so people take it as a light-hearted "lol im so crazy" moment. And they did, rather than start a genuine discussion about their role placement or how being dom/sub relieves stress and many other things.

I don't actually feel that strongly about any of this, I'm just frustrated about certain life events rn and it's easier to take my emotions out on this trival matter.

I have to go to a funeral today, I saved a draft of your request. I'll write it when I have the energy, I hope you do enjoy my bg3 writing in the meanwhile. And do leave a comment there or something if you do, just because I wrote it in the past doesn't mean I don't care about it anymore. I still check the bg3 blog notes and it is sad how people just like or reblog things without any comments because the author isn't actively posting anymore, it is borderline insulting.

Good thing I don't care about this, right?

[alightbuthappypen]

twenty questions for fic writers

As a treat entirely for me I get to do a meme. I wasn't tagged and I won't tag anyone but invite anyone who wants to do it to treat yourself too!

How many works do you have on AO3?

33, though 3 of those are posted anonymously (2 RPF that I'm not wholly comfortable having attached to my name anymore, 1 based around a Problematic Trope that I'm too chicken to own up to)

That's like an average of just under 2 fics per year I've been posting to Ao3, ha.

But I probably have about 20 wips for CQL alone, you know how it is

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

92,993 apparently.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Pretty monogamous at any given time - obviously CQL right now, though I did slip out that cathartic Good Omens thing earlier this year.

Previous big hitters (by my standards) were Dragon Age and The Musketeers (BBC version, yes I know)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

From Now On (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) (1,013)

The Look You Give (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) (995)

Retrospect (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) (552)

In the Quiet It Will Grow (陈情令 | The Untamed (TV) (507)

A natural liking (Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Good Omens (TV) (487)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I go through phases...I think it's polite to, and I do try, but also when I comment on a fic I don't actually expect a response from the author (though it's always nice!) so I don't angst about it. I obviously LOVE comments, it's not for lack of caring.

When I don't respond it's always because I end up overthinking what I should say, like does "thank you! <3" ten times in row look insincere.

Sometimes I go on a reply binge and start responding to really old comments, and that probably looks weirder.

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

I think I gravitate towards bittersweet or melancholy endings generally, though not usually real downers. Stories that take place within an angsty point of canon are good for this, like

A Promise (X-Men: First Class)

A Kind of Cruel (BBC Musketeers)

Probably angstiest of all is the very short For the wounded (Dragon Age: Inquisition) which is set in a Bad End post-canon.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I feel like "happy endings" suggest some kind of narrative arc and most of my finished fics are too oneshotty to really have that. But I'd say my fluffiest, most angst-free are probably:

Safe Keeping (Dragon Age: Inquisition) 

Nights Bright Days (Good Omens)

A natural liking (Good Omens)

In the Quiet It Will Grow (The Untamed)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I don't think I've ever got a hateful comment? If I have I've repressed it. I've had a couple that I wasn't sure what to make of, or which I felt misinterpreted what the story was about, but nothing mean.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

DO I. Smutty oneshots my beloved.

In terms of like, sex acts, pretty vanilla, though I think some of my favoured tropes could be considered Problematic (a bit of dubcon, Cloud Recesses arc smut). Whatever it is, it has to be extremely emotional. If the participants aren't experiencing heightened emotions of some kind and having them described in long introspective paragraphs it's not me.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No, my tastes are deeply boring and I have zero interest in crossovers or most AUs.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

In the Quiet It Will Grow was translated into Brazilian Portuguese with permission, though I didn't realise it was going on wattpad and didn't think to ask (it's fine, but I do prefer the Ao3 "inspired by" function). A bit random, but still, flattering.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, I kind of like the idea but I think I'm too precious about the process and have too specific an idea of what the final piece should be.

I do love the collaborative storytelling of D&D, but prose is a whole different matter.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Surely it's whichever one you're into at the time of asking? So obviously right now it's wangxian taking up most of my brainspace, but really most of the serious ships I've had I still have affection for. But wangxian is the only ship I've done both art and fic for, and overall feels like the deepest cut.

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

SO many unpublished wips, but Against your will is one of my two published wips and for that reason I would like to see it finished, but unless I get back in and refamiliarise myself with the canon again I don't think it'll happen.

Also I have all these other wangxian wips that are like...look at them, they're everywhere, spilling out of my pockets, strewn across the floor of every room

16. What are your writing strengths?

My method is usually to overwrite then trim back to the bare bones so I think my finished prose usually feels quite..."clean", and to the point. That might not count as a strength to everyone though!

In terms of things I most commonly get good comments about: characterisation, emotion, and clear description of action (people can easily picture what's happening)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Dialogue, maybe? I hope it doesn't feel weak in the finished story but it's definitely the thing I find hardest - I'm very conscious of dialogue feeling right for a character and it's usually the part I rewrite the most.

Also actually sitting down and drafting stories in the first place. Obviously.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I mean, I don't speak any other languages and dialogue is hard enough so god, no, unless it's a word or expression that is used by the characters canonically.

I don't mind it in fic as a reader but if I'm having to copy-paste paragraphs into google translate just to figure out what's going on I'm probably not going to persevere.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Oh, you mean the Buffy self insert fics I hand wrote in a notebook 14-year-old me kept under their pillow.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

This is hard because...I'm pretty happy with most fic I've published. I can definitely see flaws but overall if I've finished something and stuck it online I like it, and I've reread every one at least once (I am my own target audience).

Secondly, I think my favourite fic is usually the one or ones I'm in the process of writing. I'm always trying to improve and like to think the next one I finish will be the best I've done (unrealistic I know).

That said,

Keep Burning (Dragon Age: Inquisition) is a fic I'm still really proud of. It's far from perfect and I remember it being a tough experience to write but it came out mostly how I wanted in the end. It still feels like one of the most emotionally...honest things I finished. Also I know it made people cry, and I don't know if anything else I've written has done that.

Also There Grew Between is probably the CQL fic I'm most satisfied with, I just think the pacing and structure work really well and it's the one fic I wish got more love because I like so much how it came out.

[curedeity]

Shogun Steel Episode 9:

-im hoping this episode is less painful to sit through. Please let it be less painful.

-sidenote theres a clip in the intro where phoenix is surrounded by three beys like yeah, even the intro understands that rens experience is just getting ganged up on

-apparently i missed the scene last episode where sakyo challenges shinobu

-sakyo looks so dumb in that scene i cant believe i missed it dhdjsjsjd. Like they try to make him intimidating but like i can just imagine shinobus thoughts being "??????"

-discount aguma time! How does he expect to actually take control of a stadium by beating zyro? Yall realize that bladers are like... individuals and not part of a wider team right now, right?

-these bandits are a more cooperative team than any in the world championship

-someone please tell me who dorected the voice actors of this season to speak like this

-sakyo speaks like hes in a middle school theater production

-i dont know if the battles in shogun steel are genuinely worse or not but i find them wayyyyy harder to enjoy

-"maru, are you and zyro both safe? Because this guy is wandering around doing a really good copying ryuga. And by that i mean just randomly destroying people. And misogyny."

-not going to lie, i do like the fact that sakyo basically defeats all of zyros rivals first, it builds him up a lot. But there still isnt much of an emotional connection so they really needed that time. They were able to throw ryuga straight into a battle with gingka because of their emotional tension but for sakyo thats nonexistent so theyre trying to manufacture someone.

-love that sakyo is bringing back the bey violence though i miss the dramatics of people getting tossed around by beybattles

-salamander isnt even broken. Stop being a baby shinobu

-"gingka haganes strongest and greatest rival" poor kyoya can never catch a break. Even ryugas ghost looms taller than him

-takanosuke can you shut up you dont deserve my respect yet

-"why is takanosuke with him" "well maru when two guys are gay-" or at least thats what shinonu would say if he wasnt repressed

-maru should make shinobu help her make banners and signs to cheer on their friends. She forces him to use finger paint

-i think you should be able to tell how boring i find the battles that i just think of stuff like that

-how many cough drops do you think bladers take a day due to all the screaming they do

-not takanosuke though

-what is that necklace sort of thing takanosuke is wearing

-"sakyo could show me the path to become stronger" takanosuke pls, misogyny isnt strength

-god theyre really just shoehorning in these rivalries. I really wish they could do a commentary on how theyre all forcing themselves to fit roles of a previous generation and carrying on mistakes from that generation. Like not just in a "youre your own person" sense but like... idk how to explain. I want sakyo punched in the face for thinking fucking ryuga was a good person to copy.

-sakyos claims are so fucking dumb like ryuga would ever give up power to someone else.

-au where kenta gave him ronin dragoon actually but kenta is also not the sanest person so accidently ended up making sakyo think he should copy ryuga.

-that was a lame loss. That wasnt even a good loss. That was a cop out loss.

-Someone please stop making sakyos voice actor speak like that.

-summary: more enjoyable than the last few. Gave me a lot of fluff and au fic ideas. But honestly the funniest part is how clearly this episode is supposed to parallel ryugas entrance and yet all these kiddos are just kinda forcing themselves to.