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detectivesplotslies · 3 years

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Too many memories, two many occupants

Description: The game is over, and someone has to answer for how it played out. Tsumugi's the obvious answer, as perfectly so as her cosplay. Features VR AU and postgame spoilers. Word Count: 3591 Read on AO3 here

Chapter 1: Beyond Notice

During the trial it had been a lot easier. Having an opposition, having a role, having a part to stick to. There was the audience, there were the fans. There were her brilliant cosplays! There was the vote. She had known what she’d press. She knew where it would get her.

Waving her last, she knew what it really meant. But something within her still grew quiet. Something mourned. The triumphant grin of despair wouldn’t surface, no matter how hard she tried. Her contestants. Her classmates. Her victims. Her cast. They had sentenced her… themselves… to this.

Even though she knew better, she felt numb. Her feet were heavy, rooted to the spot. The others were out of sight. Her executioner flew around above, raining his destruction down on them while she retreated inwards, her vision narrowing. Waving, as her cosplay fell away, as the school crumbled, she should feel the heat of the explosions, but none of that reached her.

She saw the rock. She made no move. Part of her was ready. Part of her was resigned.

It went dark.

Even though Tsumugi knew better she was almost relieved.

Until it was time to wake up.

---

Coming to feels hazy, disorienting. Her limbs jerk awkwardly, as if starting awake from a nightmare, eyes still seeing darkness but hands brushing against cords, glass and consoles. A pair of hands brush her cheek as they remove her headset, and she flinches involuntarily. One of her own hands goes to her face, tugging at its electrical tethers, still taped to her in various nerve points.

She’s not wearing her glasses. Panic washes over her just as the blinding light of the room that refuses to adjust for her does, and her other hand frantically reaches around the pod for where they must have fallen. She’d never leave her glasses. Without her glasses she’s not… she’s…

The light becomes less intense as she blinks, and she can make out the blurry silhouettes of three people in front of her, standing at attention, waiting patiently. One holds a hand outstretched with something silver clasped in it.

Shakily she takes it, unfolding the arms and sliding them carefully onto her face. The unfocused world comes back into sharp clarity. She half recognizes the faces of those who are in front of her. The silence remains. Is she supposed to say something? Eventually the one who returned her glasses clears her throat, and gestures to the others. They begin to remove the wires quickly and efficiently. Tsumugi crosses her arms and rubs at them idly as the rest are secured, feeling like this should be a more private process. As the last wire is removed the one who’s clearly in charge clears her throat again and nods to her.

“The Board would like to see you.”

Slowly, Tsumugi pushes herself out of the seat, wobbling on her feet as she does so, gripping the side of the chair shaped pod, carefully avoiding the lit LCD consoles lining the edges. The trio before her make no moves to help, nor does she request it. The legs beneath her quiver a few times, threatening to fold before her knees lock with some promise of support. Her hand gripping the side betrays the truth though, trembling with effort.

“Alright, take me to them.”

---

They aren’t happy.

There’s some general gratitude that an ending was guaranteed through her actions, but thanks for it are brisk and short lived. There are bigger problems now.

Lost footage was bad enough, but a protest live on air? Sure, there were tons of supportive fans out there with a continued commitment to the brand, but the vocal few were making themselves heard. Sponsors were pulling their funding. Team DanganRonpa needed to make a statement. They refused to take fault, they had the consent waivers, despite the impassioned display on screen. They needed a scapegoat to take the fall, and who better than the face of the disaster? It was for the good of their franchise, and their only chance to hang onto enough profit to keep the company running.

They are firing her.

The show must go on, but they would make a good faith decision to change their methods for the next season. With a brand new production team.They were advancing their technologies still and R&D was indispensable right now, so the focus went towards the writing talent. It was her failure, anyways, they posited. The simulation hadn’t flickered once, even when the jig was up.

Tsumugi is silent and numb as she is told this. Turmoil brews as a debate begins around her about when to release the announcement.

How dare they do this to me? I worked so hard for them! Without me this season would have never got off the ground! Who else had the brilliant idea to move into a space epic? To introduce new worlds for the future of the story? Who risked their life to bring down every last obstacle? Who gave up their classmates? Was chased down for this mad show and they care more about sponsors? How dare they place the blame on a highschooler, when I-

Wait, no, she’s not…

She runs her fingers over her temples gingerly, swaying slightly on her feet. The discussion in front of her ebbs, attention back on her, and some expressions exchanged before they agree to resume once she’s more aware. Perhaps they were too prompt in calling her here, but they had assumed she wouldn’t need long to adjust, since she knew the truth.

They didn’t realize knowing the truth was the crux of her dilemma.

---

Deleting memories when a consciousness was plugged directly into a simulation was very simple. The centers of the brain known to store them were easily targeted without physical intervention, leaving common sense and learned skills. Untethered knowledge, learned without recalling how. The amnesia effect here was valuable. Recalling this knowledge caused a disconnect, and when memories were implanted the brain would do something extraordinary. It would map a route from the presented memory to the knowledge, all on it’s own. Connecting the neural dots and repairing the damage as though it were never there, without guidance or supervision. The human mind was a brilliantly sophisticated device.

Every cast member had been selected with some semblance of knowledge or aptitude for their assigned talent, even if it was utterly average. The knowledge was filled out for each, with painstaking researchers drafting long memories of ancient tomes, infidelity cases, star charts, blueprints, masked faces, island maps and coastal vistas. They filled in as much as possible, but even if they missed something, the mind was resilient, and would work out the holes on its own.

It wasn’t the same for her however.

There was a perk to being the ringleader for the whole affair. The person in charge had to know some of the infrastructure that was keeping them there, some of the motivations. Lest the show fall apart, or even worse be boring. So the game master went into the simulation without memory deletion.

That wasn’t to say that there weren’t memories implanted. That would be too simple. They had to provide some true evidence of their talent to back up the enhancement of their skills and knowledge. Without a sturdy foundation built on confidence any additions would crumble and refuse to attach. Having worked in the costume department for a few seasons before her promotion, her suggestion of cosplayer had been approved almost instantly. Soon the research team was looking up Cosplay Masquerade winners from years past and the details of every prized piece of workmanship, photography and character acting they could find, and drafting it into a light for her as well. Tsumugi had been excited, and had even helped pick her absolute favourites to be remembered as costumes she made.

Ideally, this booster pack of memories for her talent would supplement her own enough to use to her fullest if the time came in game. Her script outline didn’t even call for her reveal, but having been behind the scenes a few seasons, she knew a lot more was up to chance than Team Danganronpa liked to let the media know. She wanted a strong backup at her disposal, should the need arise.

However, when the game began, something hadn’t been quite right. Backstory memories were implanted as planned, but the talents were yet to be placed. Already in the simulation, she couldn’t ask The Board if this was deliberate. It could be a marketing scheme to boost audition rates for the next round. But already her concern grew.

The human mind is a fascinating thing.

The others spoke of being grabbed and taken here. The dots were already connecting, firing on all cylinders, looking for solutions to lost memories that didn’t need answering. It wasn’t as though they erased everything of course, it was impossible to work with a blank slate, so the bits remaining were playing havoc with their reactions. She alone had none missing, and merely nodded along. With the arrival of the talent light, she had an inward sigh of relief. Soon it wouldn’t matter, this would overwrite any unintended connections left by this stunt.

They received the memories.

Tsumugi had never expected them to feel so real. Every costume she had lovingly picked out, from footage and articles, she could feel in her hands, as though she touched the fabric and threaded the seams. Every pose she had seen a cosplayer photographed in, she was viewing outwardly, seeing the cameramen she never even imagined existing prior, while holding her position with careful grace. Every character, be they dramatic, loud, shy, soft or brash, came to her in vivid detail. Their tales, their backstories, their struggles, their gestures and voices.

And it clashed against her memories of Danganronpa.

All these characters, all these series, they were not the ones she grew up on. They were new and relevant, often references classics, selected for memorability, for the audience. And yet now they were intimately hers. They crowded for attention, buzzing and vying for a place as her favourite.

Her true favourites, the reason for her years of work and devotion, were shoved to the very back, not forgotten, but duller. Flatter. The Ultimate Cosplayer was vibrant! Though plain outwardly her skills were undeniable! She wasn’t some drop-out made-seamstress made-scenario writer. Why would she ever want to be?

Therefore, it couldn’t be that surprising how lost in thought she was at her introductions, she spent far too long trying to remember the lines she had written to poke a reference to the show. There were a lot more than 52 killing games to think back on now. She regretted not stocking the A/V Room with more of these shows...

----

With an escort, she goes to her office to clear it out. Memorabilia lines the desk and walls, from seasons past. She looks them over passively as she is handed a box, and begins to take each thing down one by one. Every character, name, and mascot was familiar. Security waits at the door, and she wonders why. What could she possibly do here to harm them anymore than she supposedly already had? She had not been allowed online yet to confirm anything told to her, but she had resolved that when they spoke to her again she’d make it a condition before her termination. They couldn’t plainly believe she’d take their word on it when they put her… no that wasn’t right…

They didn’t put her anywhere, she put herself somewhere.

She shakes her head slowly a moment, the numbness in her hands having returned. Before she can react the snowglobe in her grasp slips out of her clumsy unfeeling fingers and shatters on the floor. Water and glitter splash the floor as tiny Monokumas skitter outwards past her feet across the room, freed from their little round prison. Security whirls around to face her at the sharp sound she doesn’t hear. She stands there staring at the base of the glass bauble, dumbfounded.

She vaguely recollects that that had been special. A collector’s item, given to her by someone perhaps? Limited edition? But she felt nothing staring down at the wet shards remaining, her arm hanging limp at her side. Whatever it was before, it was trash now.

Tsumugi is ushered out with her box half packed, with no mention of if she could come back for the rest. Part of her wants to scream to get the rest and cling to it all! It took so long to amass! Without it, what is there to prove her efforts? A larger part of her was happy for it to be out of sight.

She unceremoniously leaves the box in the corner of her recovery room. Not one of her own things is taken out to put anywhere. She likes the room bare and plain. Like her. Just like the girl she thinks she is.

---

Unlike before the game, when the research team and writers had meetings, strategy plans and long discussions, the classroom where Tsumugi stood with the Game Master interface was lonely and cold. There were no intricacies to any of the selections, they were mere branching paths. Sure, she recalled some of the writing details for each from before the season launch, especially the ones she had chosen as her outlined route, but how simply the screen stated them to her was troubling.

The talent had been supposed to be this simple too, but it had depth she hadn’t expected. The selection hovered over the Ultimate Hunt and the mass funeral choices, the ones her writing team had OK’d. She wondered what depth she’d feel seeing fake people mourn her. Would they seem fake?

She pressed the button and waited for the light to pop out of the locker, adjusting her glasses idly and looking out the dark wire barred windows. She thought about her ‘classmates’, who had nothing in their heads remaining to help them deny these. It really was a perfect system. For them.

There was a thud in the locker. Tsumugi returned to her task, like so many all nights she’d pulled before, both real and fictional. She walked over to retrieve it, carefully tucking it into the interior pocket on her coat. Once it was placed that was their plot, no rewrites, no erasing anything. Living the story was a lot more nerve wracking than writing it.

---

Tsumugi knows her way around the building without help, but that doesn’t stop security from falling into step and walking with her whenever she leaves her room. She supposes it’s not to help her, anyways, so it’s not an issue. There’s no regimented schedule for her during recovery, though doctors have visited her room a few times and there was one impromptu check-up with an actual CT scan.

She tells them all she feels fine. Everything is fine. She’s readjusting just fine, thank you for asking. No, no abnormalities. No numbness. No confusion. She does admit to being very tired. That one is a safe answer, it usually makes them leave faster so she can rest. They aren’t very good doctors, she thinks. She wonders if they are just as poorly attentive to the other patients’ issues and lies.

Without a schedule, Tsumugi avoids the cafeteria at what she guesses would be the busier times, but even doing so she has caught glimpses of her cast.

A girl sitting with an untouched meal laid out before her. Her hands clasped in front of her in her lap, eyes hidden behind loose grey hair.

A tall silent boy gazing out one of the few windows into the courtyard. He traces his no longer ringed fingers along the surface.

A coughing bout in the hallway followed by the rush of feet and a familiar loud voice shouting them off.

Echoes of their more vibrant selves, haunting the halls.

She walks into the cafeteria and stops. There are voices but she’s already through the door before she realizes it, eyes darting to the table to the right of the door. Sitting there in what sounded like a disagreement were Shuichi and Maki, with Himiko sitting idly beside the latter cheek resting on the heel of her hand while gazing at the door. The other two don’t notice her but the small redhead locks eyes with her instantly. Her posture stiffens as her eyes widen. The two girls stare at each other for a moment, the conversation a buzz in the background as the air thickens. Shuichi, who’s back is to the door must have noticed because he stops mid-sentence and glances over his shoulder. He freezes.

It’s Maki who stands, nudging Himiko behind her, taking on that intimidating stance. She’s glaring daggers across the room at her, and Tsumugi backs up involuntarily, right into the security guard who was following her into the room. Clumsily, she stumbles forwards to step out of his way and adjusts her glasses, the other three’s eyes still locked on her. Not wanting to leave, but unsure of what to do with herself, Tsumugi steps forwards to the adjacent table and quietly takes a seat.

The eyes on her and the silence are wrong. She’s not someone who gets stared at, at least not when she’s not trying to… this isn’t what she should… what should she…

A placid smile spreads on her face and she nods her head to them. “Good morning, Harukawa-san, Yumeno-san, Saihara-kun.” Her eyes squint almost closed in the forced smile, her cheeks pushing upwards under her glasses that help mask the dark bags. Practiced. Placating. A face both of her make. Painful.

“What do you want?”

Himiko isn’t who anyone expects to talk clearly, Shuichi turning to look at her. Maki squares her shoulders, trying to seem bigger. But the smallest of them narrows her eyes and waits.

“Nothing in particular, really,” Tsumugi drawls, folding her hands in her lap. Out of sight as they clench and fidget.

“Oh sure, your goons won’t give us a moment alone, but you don’t want anything. Like we’d believe that,” Maki says before Himiko can continue, venom in every word. Himiko’s mouth hangs open in the interruption, closing again with a pout.

“My goons,” Tsumugi repeats, noting the pointed look at the security detail that followed her in. “Fortunately, they should have provided you all with your contracts by now, and you can see your rights there. Please do use them to your benefit.”

“Oh right. The contracts we don’t even remember signing,” Himiko mutters.

“That is outlined in them as well.”

“This lack of contact with the outside was not, though,” Shuichi cuts in. The sureness there is from someone who clearly read the contract over more than once. Someone looking for loopholes. The memories he received must still be working overtime. She wonders if he’s as glad to have them as he was when he was when the process was explained? Probably not.

“That’s not my area, I’m afraid the simulation and preparations were my purview, Saihara-kun. Feel free to exert your rights in your contract, though. The company has to uphold it.” The strained smile slides into a more natural one as she continues to speak. It’s easier when it’s not about her.

Shuichi raises a brow. Perhaps he had expected resistance? “So they’re breaking their agreement then, holding us here?” he continues, as if to clarify.

“If that’s what the contract promises, then I suppose that’s the case,” Tsumugi answers. They should feel fortunate they got the opportunity to sign those at all, she thinks. Her hands clench tighter. They are fortunate they don’t remember.

“Like we trust you to keep promises,” Maki spat.

“You don’t have to,” she tuts, “Just use the contract, it’s your tool.”

Maki moves so quickly that thankfully Tsumugi doesn’t have the time to flinch. Himiko grabs her by the crook of the elbow before she’s rounded the table towards her.

“Stop it, let’s just talk somewhere else.”

Himiko stands, and moments later Shuichi follows suit. Maki’s expression doesn’t show any agreement, but she leaves with them nonetheless, glaring back over her shoulder on the way out. The security officers never stray from their posts. As soon as she’s sure they’re gone, Tsumugi lets out a held breath. A few moments pass, and she finally goes to get her meal.

She hopes that they really heard her. Their contracts are so much more flexible than her own. They hadn’t bequeath their identities, their citizenships, they weren’t intellectual property of the company no matter how some of the creative team liked to spin it.Their participation was a limited matter, and she was sure her classmates could argue their way through with that fine print at their disposal. She knew that much. She’d seen them face harder things than legal jargon together of course!

...Her classmates? No. Her cast. Her co-stars. A grimace grows on her face as she returns to sit. They never once had a class together, and the game could hardly be called one… not now. Not with her. Together they could bond in their ignorance. Her contract wasn’t flexible. Her consent was different than theirs. She wasn’t new, or at least not all new.

And she couldn’t leave until they decided the best way for them to kick her out. She takes a bite of her food thoughtfully.

If they can kick me out.

#ndrv3 spoilers #ndrv3 #tsumugi shirogane #shirogane tsumugi #team danganronpa #fic #my writing #danganronpa v3 #vr au #postgame #shuichi saihara #maki harukawa #himiko yumeno #my mugi #dissociation #memory #Some of you may remember the preview I posted for this one

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hekatekun · 3 years

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The metanarrative’s grand narrative: Osomatsu-san’s characterization throughout the franchise

The growing cynicism throughout the entire Osomatsu-san franchise shows itself in season 3 with more prominence than anything prior. I think that’s pretty common amongst any “long-running” gag comedy - replacing a plot with spiteful commentary that’s admittedly pretty hit or miss at times. However, it invariably creates a negative but pretty funny character growth, and I love the way the show (I’m including the movie too as “canon” material considering season 3 has referenced it way too many times for me to disregard) has set up this metanarrative across seasons. Long post ahead.

Obviously, Osomatsu-san is self-aware and has a casual relationship with itself. No linear plot (though S3 seems to be trying it out and I’ve enjoyed it - I love that they’re willing to experiment), rather a collection of unrelated skits; and so it points out its own metanarrative because of this “lack of consequences.” With comedy comes impermancy and Ososan AND -kun will always bounce back from that week’s insanity. From the Oxford Dictionary, a metanarrative is “a narrative account that experiments with or explores the idea of storytelling, often by drawing attention to its own artificiality.” Basically: a story about stories.

On top of this, is what I’m calling the “grand narrative,” which is often used interchangeably with metanarrative, but here I’m making a distinction to make it less confusing. Of course, Ososan is a story about stories, but with that comes a story it’s not directly telling, which is where most of the (little) character development is taking place. This is what I’m going to call the grand narrative of a show whose premise is being a meta-aware comedy. I’ll admit I’m by no means an expert on these subjects, but storytelling methods are something I enjoy trying to analyze. As a media format, Ososan really utilizes the fact that it’s a tv show.

Right off the bat S1E1 makes it clear what to expect: Nothing. Not a damn thing. But, the show had already been cleared for this first season, so it has to be produced. This same episode’s preview is done by Osomatsu, which I’m just gonna quote instead screenshot because there’s too many.

“...we plan on properly starting the anime the next episode.” “...you ended up with an extra minute, so you need me to do something to fill it?! Actually, is this anime going to be okay with episode one being like this? I’m getting worried about how the rest of this is going to be...” “There, I used up a minute! [EPISODE ENDS]”

Episode one is not only batshit referential, but downright mocking the state of anime in 2015. Which, truthfully, I don’t have much to comment on in that regard, as I’m not an avid anime fan. However, it does this under the premise of being indecisive about what kind of anime they wanted the Osokun reboot to be.

They’ll do just about anything to stay popular and relevant considering that is, quite literally, all they have going for them as characters in the series and just being characters in general. They may be pieces of shit, but they’re likeable pieces of shit. The dynamics they’ve built upon to be entertaining is encouraged, and they’re basically just roleplaying different skits and fucking around.

All the AUs! All the skits! They’re just playing! They’re just fuckin’ around!! They couldn’t come up with any interesting plot nor could they “graduate” from being anime protagonists and join the real world, so they just fuck around and make a gag anime!

Even if we follow both as the audience, the show makes a difference between the what’s them in their “normal life” (crazy begets crazy, no?) and what’s their “show.” But, really, that’s just one way to look at it, as they don’t really follow any rules as a show. I could say the Joshimatsus are separate characters from the sextuplets, and it’d be a “correct” interpretation. It doesn’t really matter - I’m choosing to examine it all as being the six of them just running around and playing, because being entertaining and having fun is all they know as characters. Besides, having it blended together beyond recognition reinforces how it prioritizes entertaining us, the audience, above logic. Storytelling doesn’t need to make absolute spatial-temporal sense for it to be enjoyable to fans.

In any case, that mentality really seems to be what pushes their character development negative, as they look to reinforce habits and rituals despite them being really detrimental for them in the long run. They know they’re popular characters as is, and with really everyone from staff to fans encouraging this behavior further, so they see no point in fixing what isn’t really broken.

I found this 4 year old article from Manga.Tokyo discussing the Ososan phenomenon in Japan because while the craze died off pretty quickly in American anime circles (which deserves a whole other post), Japanese fans went fuckin’ nuts.

This portion caught my attention, as it makes sense that entitled and enabled asshole children would grow up to be entitled and enabled asshole adults. The article also goes on to compare them to idols (even beyond the F6 spoof) and that they are rooted in being comfort characters above all else.

It’s worth a read, especially because Japanese fan response is what drives majority of the content post-S1, and, inevitably, ties into their character development.

They know that they’re Characters, particularly Protagonists. You know what happens to protagonists? Everything works out. Just about every single story created has stuff working out for protagonists. In fact, we have a whole genre made that separates stories with bad tragic endings from our Normal Stories. Ososan is a comedy, not a tragedy, so surely there’s gonna be some payoff somewhere along the road, especially as the seasons and other content are still being pumped out. To a self-aware, entitled, enabled protagonist, assuming everything is just gonna work out for you isn’t that far off from your narrative truth.

However, Ososan is a gag anime, and a lot of gag content (like 4koma mangas) is dropped for other projects before any emotional cathartic ending is provided for characters and fans alike. So, three seasons and a movie later, nothing has happened. It’s a great idol cash cow with a Family Guy filter, and the characters (and writers) don’t even bother to hide it anymore. And I know I’m being hypocritical concerning my definition of “canon material” but I think this portion from one of the drama cds “Choroplex” basically summarizes my point:

CHOROMATSU: Wait, don’t make this into a gag! You don’t even care about becoming employed, right? KARAMATSU: There’s no way that could happen... CHOROMATSU: What kind of future are you imagining? Is it nothing but this? [HUGE PAUSE BEFORE THEY MOVE ONTO SOMETHING ELSE]

They’re parodies of themselves and are running out of ideas. Stagnation and decay is normal, if not unavoidable, at this point in time for them. They’re just 20 somethings who’ve hit a wall but they’re too scared and insecure to bring about permanent positive change. It’s easier for them to fall back into normal patterns and joke off the rest.

They have an antagonistic relationship with expectations. They can’t handle a single iota of expectations, or responsibilities. They’ve never needed to worry before, so why bother now? Once the biggest hits on the block, now they’re just guppies in the ocean, and there’s nothing they believe themselves to be able to accomplish to keep up with this big brave new world. This is epitomized in S3E15, where old man Osomatsu tells a bastardized version of the Tortoise and the Hare, blatantly projecting his feelings onto it. Again, too many screenshots so let me pull more quotes (bolding for my own reference):

“The place that the tortoise thought was the goal was not actually the goal. His journey down the road of life still continued on. The tortoise was quite tired, but he continued running anyway.” “No one actually knew who was in front anymore. There are too many people above you.” “After the tortoise found out how society worked, he thought, ‘So this is the difference in talent? No amount of hard work is going to fix this. All right. I’m done competing with others.’”

S3 has left more questionable endings than its counterparts. The last 2 skits I referenced don’t even a gag to them, and the marriage skit doesn’t play music for the entire second half of S3E5. There’s more involved too. I haven’t even brought up the rice ball twins becoming actual entertainers in their universe, or how they introduced this whole AI subplot only to reject it because All Six Of Them aren’t interested in expanding their little corner of the world. Here’s a transcript of the ending preview from S3E1:

“Hey, hey, Osomatsu here. I thought we were saved from being replaced, but I guess we get new characters next week. Man, we’re busy. New encounters, changing surroundings... We’re NEETs to begin with because all that is a pain. I guess a lot can happen after three seasons. [EPISODE ENDS]”

The sextuplets’ mindsets are extremely self-centered, which is also an environmental thing (the parents don’t even really care that they’re NEETs, for one) and an understanding of what they ought to be (epic successful protagonists). They also have a very black and white mentality, all or nothing. They’re extremely sheltered, and once they realized where they stood in society at large, they just gave up. To them the world is divided between winners and losers, and somehow, “inexplicably,” they found themselves to have fallen from grace. But they’re protagonists, that has to count for something! Everything’s gonna end up okay, right? Well... what this show has told them: No, not at all. They are consistently compared and warned of Iyami, and are perfectly aware of this fact, and have come to internalize it as a truth rather than a reversible self-fulfilling prophecy.

Too many screencaps, taken from the S3S5 marriage discussion:

JYUSHIMATSU: I wonder if we’re gonna get married someday, too. CHOROMATSU: Well, I mean... probably? I’m not exactly sure, but... TODOMATSU: What? You’re gonna get married, Choromatsu-niisan? CHOROMATSU: Huh? Well, yeah... someday.

Surprise! They have commitment issues! The same group that couldn’t commit to a fucking plot! Though their personality issues have several factors involved, I can’t overlook the theater motifs abound. Life’s a stage, and they’re performing entirely unscripted and it shows.

Do I think all of this is 100% intentional on the writers’ part? No, probably not. There’s also an extra layer here regarding contemporary Japanese commentary that I’m not familiar with, so I just ended up focusing on the characters. I can’t be in the writers’ heads, but whatever decisions are being made by executives regarding censorship and “compliance” are reflected in these character changes that result in being significantly more bitter and defeatist.

In the all or nothing, winner-take-all mentality, the only way to save face at this point, in their minds, is to own up to it - act like it’s what they wanted all along. And, hey, it’s funny to watch, right?

“Why is Osomatsu all my examples”, you might be asking. Well, he’s the damn blueprint for it all. The leader of the bunch, the first personality to grab your attention, has had all his issues projected and ricocheted in their echo chamber.

Ultimately, my point here is that you could think their “canon characterizations” (though canon means nothing in a show like this) as being intertwined with the nature of their self-aware existence. They’ve shown you all their tricks, the smoke and mirrors are getting boring, and they’re stalling long enough the story seems to be moving on without them - in spite of them. And when something genuinely threatens their way of life, they don’t know how to respond.

You can play it all straight, of course. Remove the meta jokes and all the same plot points can be hit, but, as a slapstick comedy, it’s able to easily add this additional layer in that I appreciate. I’ve said it in my last post and I’ll probably say it in more, but with comedy comes sincerity - the caveat of all the cartoon violence is that, on some level somewhere, this is how they really feel.

#osomatsu san #osomatsu #karamatsu #choromatsu #ichimatsu #jyushimatsu #todomatsu #osomatsu matsuno #karamatsu matsuno #choromatsu matsuno #ichimatsu matsuno #jyushimatsu matsuno #todomatsu matsuno #analysis #confession this was sparked by a convo i had w friends about s3e18 #this is a bit truncated but i couldnt bring myself to make this longer #maybe ill make a pt2 or whatever idk

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r3almellow · 4 years

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MLQC Boys With A Famous S/o

Here we go! Thank you anon for this request I hope its to your liking!! Apologies for typos as always!

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Kiro (YouTuber S/o)

How did you meet ?

You were a YouTuber that had over 500,000 subscribers. During a Mukbang Q&A video you received a question in regards to your celebrity crush.

“I think the big ass poster currently behind me kind of gives it away, but my ultimate crush is Kiro. I’d give anything to meet him at least once.” You went even as far as to give him a shout out. “Hey, super star! I heard you were a big foodie and since you like to eat and I like to eat, maybe we can eat together sometime? Okay, that was dumb, please ignore this!”

Little did you know, Kiro was a huge fan of your videos and just so happened to see your request. Next thing you knew a clip of you “shooting your shot” made its way to his social media page with a caption of “Its a date ;)” right above it. You just about died when you saw his post. You were only joking around! Well...not 100% joking, but you didn’t expect him to respond!

You spent weeks talking to each other through private messages soon after. Your messages filled with gushing over your similar interests, playful banters and light flirting. He offered to be a part of your next Mukbang stating that it was better to have two people eating themselves into a coma on camera than one. You couldn’t argue with facts and took him up on his offer! Kiro only had one condition...you let him take you out on a date afterwards.

And the rest was history.

Dating

The cutest couple to have ever existed!

Both of your social media pages are filled with couple photos.

You both get to dress up in disguise whenever you go on dates! A baseball cap, sunglasses, and face masks are your usual go to’s, but depending on where you’re going you might be required to get a little creative.

Dealing with overly excited fans and even more persistent paparazzi was a bit new for you, since your interactions with people is mostly through the internet, but you handle it pretty well.

Interviewers practically threw themselves onto every opportunity to get information about your love life. Kiro was more skilled than you about these things, so you tend to just laugh awkwardly and let him take care of it.

Kiro appears a little more in your videos whenever he’s free which the fans are grateful for. Of course, your channel doesn’t turn into all things Kiro and you never use him for your own personal gain.

Dating Kiro did open up some opportunities for you, like getting to experience award shows and networking with other celebrities and content creators. Again, you refused to throw Kiro’s name around just to get the things you wanted.

You both like to bounce ideas off of each other, whether its for his music or for your latest video. Having two creative minds come together does wonders!

You’re almost always somewhere in the background during his live streams.

Gavin (Actress S/o)

How did you meet?

High school. You were a part of the drama club and Gavin was...well...forced into being a part of the stagehand after being threatened with expulsion from his last brawl.

You were the first one to welcome him. You were kind, funny, and cute. And when you were on that stage? Mesmerizing was the best way to put how Gavin saw you. You were inspiring.

After graduation Gavin lost contact with most of his acquaintances, but he never once stopped thinking about you. Gavin wasn’t big on celebrity news, but he actually kept up with your progress once he got wind of a newcomer taking the entertainment world by storm.

Fast forward to a few years later and he was playing bodyguard for one of the most successful actresses in the world. You. This was just an undercover job that was going to last as long as his target was still out there.

There was definitely chemistry between you. And while Gavin wanted to act on his feelings, his work had to come first. You respected that, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to let him know you were interested. How could you not be? You had a huge crush on him back in high school and now that he was by your side practically every day those feelings came back with a vengeance!

As soon as Gavin’s objective was complete he continues being your bodyguard stating, “Only I can keep you out of trouble.” Which you responded by kissing him.

Dating

Once word got out about you dating your “bodyguard”, it shocked many that you decided to be with someone that wasn’t a celebrity.

Even so, Gavin doesn’t look like your average Joe. He has the body and face of man who could easily be on the cover of Vogue or Vanity Fair, but you know your man isn’t about that life.

You’ve spent years being a private person, so when you and Gavin start dating not revealing much was easy. The public only knew what you wanted them to.

There are a lot of at home dates filled with takeout and movie night. Just being in each others company is more than enough for you!

You work out together a lot! He’s really good about motivating you especially when you have to prepare for an upcoming movie. You honestly don’t need a personal trainer when you have Gavin.

The paparazzi are afraid of Gavin. Like they won’t even get within six feet of you whenever he’s around. The last poor soul who got a little too close for your liking ate asphalt within seconds.

Gavin isn’t one for the limelight or the glitz and glam, which you appreciate. Its nice to be around someone that isn’t a part of the entertainment world.

You don’t have to hide a part of yourself, in fear of judgement, whenever you were with him. You appreciated Gavin’s genuine nature. He was always truthful with you and he never gave the impression that he was only with you because of your status.

Gavin does a great job with making you feel special. Whenever you feel like you don’t meet the standards of what the industry wants, he pulls you out of that dark hole and gives you the pep talk you need to get through the day.

You could walk around without an ounce of makeup on or trade in a Dior dress for sweatpants and a t-shirt, and Gavin still found you beautiful.

Victor ( Famous Pianist S/o)

How did you meet?

Victor was a fan of your work for quite some time. There was something about your raw talent that drew him to your work. He always made it a point to go to all your live shows whenever he was available, but has never met you personally.

It wasn’t until you waltzed right into his office out of the blue. When he saw you enter his office with Goldman and two security guards tailing right behind you, he didn’t even recognize you. You looked as if you had just rolled out of bed with a messy bun, ripped jeans, t-shirt with some random cartoon character and thick rimmed glasses. His first thought as you stared him down with a frown was, “Who let this homeless person into his office?”

When Goldman called your name as the two security guards grabbed your arms, Victor had to do a double take. The elegant and graceful woman, who commanded the stage with just pads of her fingertips, was...YOU?!

Victor allowed you to stay, curious to know why you were here. You business with Victor was simple. You wanted funding to create music schools for low income families. You had sent countless emails to LFG with hopes to do business with them, but after being ignored the first few times and receiving a rude rejection email that morning, you were ready to take the bull by the horns.

Surprisingly Victor found himself intrigued by you and thus started an interesting partnership.

The more Victor got to work with you the more he became attracted to the headstrong, smart, and talented person who seemingly enjoyed ruffling his feathers every chance they got.

You were also attracted to the blunt, detail-oriented man and it bothered you to no-end. What you saw in a man who probably would critique drawings from a toddler, you had no idea. But you appreciated his work ethic. He genuinely wanted you to succeed with this project and you couldn’t deny his heart was in the right place.

The day the first school opened was the day Victor decided to stop tiptoeing around the mutual attraction and asked you out.

“We can celebrate your accomplishments over dinner.”

Dating

The CEO of LFG and the child prodigy turned world famous pianist dating?!

CAN WE SAY POWER COUPLE?!

Whenever paparazzi get a picture of the two of you, you both look as if you just finished a professional photoshoot. You NEVER look bad in those photos. Never!

And when you do professional shoots? It leaves people SHOOK. Magazines like Forbes have never had such a beautiful couple grace their covers before. Just wait until people see your wedding photos.

You always ask him to visit you during your rehearsals which he almost always declines but shows up anyway, if he’s not too busy. He’ll also bring a box of his homemade pudding because knowing you, you probably were too busy with preparations for your upcoming concert to eat. He’ll take you out to eat afterwards, but the pudding should hold you over for a bit.

Victor will never admit this to you, but your music helps him de-stress after a long day at work, so whenever he isn’t with you, your music helps him fall asleep.

Victor also likes to watch you work. Seeing you so focused as you create your next piece was a sight to beheld. The pensive look in your eyes as you went over your music sheet, the slow nod of your head as your fingers danced across the keys as you intently listened to the melody, and the way your eyebrow twitched when you hit a key you didn’t like; all things oddly enjoyed seeing.

You’ll never catch him staring. He’ll pretend he’s working whenever you feel his eyes on you and if you try to call him out on it, he will most likely deny it.

Lucien ( Novelist S/o)

How did you meet?

You needed the help of someone knowledgeable with neuroscience for your next book. Someone recommended a Professor at Loveland University who specialized on the topic. That was how you met Professor Lucien.

You two worked closely together once you started your manuscript, going over various topics under the neuroscience category. It wasn’t surprising just how intelligent the man was on the subject, but you were in awe about how much you knew.

Your meetings would often start at the university which led to you going home together once you found out he lived in the same building as you. You leveled up from the lecture hall to aquariums, movie theaters, restaurants, and his apartment where you had lunch or dinner.

Your conversations never stayed on the topic of work. It often changed to your interests. You found that you and Lucien had a lot of similar interests like your taste in books and art. He also developed a love for teasing you.

Seeing the look on your flustered face turned into one of his favorite pastimes.

When it came to the topic of your books, you learned Lucien has read quite a few of them and was very intrigued with your work. He asked you numerous questions, questions no one thought to ask.

He admitted to you his favorite of yours was the first book he ever read titled, “The Boy Who Dreamed.” You jokingly offered to sign his book, but he declined with a smile.

“I’ll admit I do enjoy the book, but I’m more interested in the woman who wrote it.”

Dating

More dates at your favorite places.

Almost every other week, Lucien seemed to have tickets to art exhibits, festivals, or the movies.

His teasing intensifies by a hundred! That man loves to tease you and you hate it! You love it.

The closer you got to Lucien, the more you realized he didn’t enjoy talking about himself, so it takes a while to learn about him or his past. You never press him for information, but he does reveal things to you within time.

Lucien loves when you read to him. Its how he falls asleep and once you find out he has trouble sleeping, you always suggest what you call “story time.”

In truth, having you by his side is more than enough to get him to sleep, but if you aren’t there hearing your voice will do the trick. You could be reading anything and he’d be fine with it. From Dr. Seuss to H.G. Wells, Lucien was fine with it as long as he got hear your voice.

You like to ask for his opinion on your latest projects. He does a great job making you think outside of the box which will make things easier or challenging during your writing sessions.

Whenever you encounter writer’s block, Lucien will pull you away from your laptop and mountains of papers to enjoy a nice relaxing day with him.

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Doooone! Please comment if you enjoyed this! I’d love to know what you guys think!

Want to read more of my writing? Check out my MLQC masterlist here!

#mlqc #mlqc gavin #mlqc kiro #mlqc victor #mlqc lucien #mldd #mr. love #mr love queen's choice #mr love #mr love dream date

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spoonful-of-puns · 3 years

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I watched Barbie Princess Adventure yesterday and before I watched it I made sure I was going in as unbiased as possible. I tried to let it be its own movie, to not compare it to the other 3 switching lives type movies Barbie has come out with (Princess and the Pauper, Princess and the Popstar, and Rock'n Royals). I wanted to give it a fair chance as a standalone film unburdened by the rest of the franchise, and here's my thoughts after watching.

Target Audience

the main thing I learned from watching this movie is that this Barbie is not the same Barbie I knew while growing up. with the rise of social media, Mattel had to adapt, doing so through YouTube. Barbie is now a vlogger with a YouTube channel, and even does video collaborations with real people. Princess Adventure is the first Barbie movie in which vlog Barbie is the protagonist of the movie, which was a shock to me but I wasn't necessarily opposed. this is what made me realize that Barbie is still a kid-targeted character and now she's targeted to kids who are growing up with the internet, with tablets and phones. Mattel is adapting to keep up with the modern world, and that's okay. the movies don't have as much magic and fantasy as they used to with the introduction of technology, but that doesn't have to stop them from being good movies, especially for the technologically-geared kids watching.

Characters & Plot

Here's where I start to have an issue, and where I have to compare this movie to the other movies to get my point across. Something both Princess and the Pauper and Rock'n Royals succeeded at was having a plot that showed us why the protagonists switching lives was important, how it affected them and what they did with the information of the other person's life. Princess and the Popstar and Princess Adventure both have their own ways they fail to meet this goal. in Princess and the Popstar, the girls want to switch simply because they're bored with their lives. which in theory is fine but the way it's written makes it seem like they're justified in not handling their responsibilities- the Princess, simply to write a speech for an event, and the Popstar to write her own music. this is a stark contrast to PatP, where the girls are straining against sacrificing their personal wishes to fulfill their financial duties, and RnR, where the girls are trying to solve a feud between their two worlds. in Princess Adventure, the problem is not why they switch. in fact, their switch makes sense! Barbie needs to leave her comfort zone so she can expand her vlog material, and Princess Amelia feels burdened by the pressure to be perfect and wants to escape. the problem however, is that we get almost no screen time with them experiencing each other's lives. most of the plot is Barbie talking to her friends, and not much happens with her or Amelia, but by the end of the movie they're thanking each other for all they've learned. how did they learn anything? if they did it was entirely off screen which is my main issue. the characters supposedly grow, but we don't get to see it happen, so we're left (or, I am personally left) not caring much about the happy conclusion because it hardly feels earned.

I also have a problem with the rushed writing. aside from the fact that we don't get to see much of the switching lives part of the plot, the movie is a musical that spends time on songs that don't advance the plot, namely King of the Kingdom, which is a relatively minor character singing about ruling the kingdom. he has no real motivation to do so, and honestly if you removed him from the movie entirely pretty much nothing would change. (to be honest, none of the friend characters matter as individuals and I can't even remember their names, even though i just watched the movie.) this is quite frankly a waste of screentime, and the song is reprised later when the prince of the movie is revealed to be a twist villain. again, we don't get to see Amelia and Barbie's lives very much throughout the film, so to spend time on a twist villain is not only unnecessary for the plot, but it's also incredibly rushed, coming in at the end of the movie with absolutey no foreshadowing. some may argue that since its a kid's movie it doesn't need to have good writing but I disagree. kid's aren't dumb and unless Mattel is trying to move their target audience from 9-12 years old to 3-9 years old, they could stand to write stories that have better messaging and better writing overall. this is, after all, the same company that produced Princess Charm School, which tackles classism and economic inequality, with enough grace to make it understandable for children and still and enjoyable princess movie, and with a twist that's foreshadowed well.

Animation

I will admit that I don't hate the animation of this movie. in fact, I love it! I think Barbie looks so pretty here. it's not my favorite necessarily as I am still partial to the look of the early 2000s classics, but Princsss Adventure is definitely a step up from Puppy Chase for example, where the characters look like cheap plastic. my issue though is even though the character models look good, the outfits don't. costume design is as important as any other part of a movie, and plainly put, Princess Adventure very much fell victim to the cheap way Mattel now produces Barbie dolls. anyone who grew up watching the classics remembers the dolls made for Princess and the Pauper, for Diamond Castle, for Rapunzel, and many more. the dresses were beautifully detailed with multiple layers and multiple textures. small tulle and lace designs and tiny fabric flowers were common. today I own a hairdresser Barbie who has what's meant to be a shirt, skirt, and apron... but it's all just printed on a single straight dress, printed to look like different pieces. the dolls also no longer have joints, which- excuse my language- is a pain in the ass while trying to dress or pose them, and would certainly make them less fun to play with, for me at least. the quality of the dolls has gone so downhill over the last few years (I can't help but think it's cutting costs to balance out the cost of diversifying the body and hair types and skin tones). Mattel's primary goal these days is selling dolls, not making good movies, and this shows through unmistakably in Princess Adventure. even animated, the clothes look cheap. there's no detail in them, and most of the outfits are shirts with some sort of inspirational word slapped on it, and a glittery skirt. there's no variation is style from character to character. bringing up Princess Charm School again, there are 4 characters (Blaire, Isla, Hadley, and Delancey) who all have different variants of the same uniform, which have differences that show their personalities. there's no such differentiation in Princess Adventure. the clothes all look like slightly different versions of the same outfit, meant to be swappable between dolls instead of showing a character's personality.

In Conclusion

this was all very train of thought, written at once with no planning. I'm sure there's things I've missed but these are just my primary thoughts about the movie. I think this new age of Barbie where she's a vlogger has a lot of potential, especially because I've seen some of her YouTube videos and actually really like them and think they're a positive role model. this movie however, falls very short of the quality plot, writing, and character design that Barbie movies have had in the past.

#barbie #barbie movies #barbie princess adventure

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thou-breath-of-autumns-being · 3 years

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Fic Writer Meme

@worriedaboutmyfern said she tagged anyone who wanted to do this, so I did it!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

...why is there a very large font size I can’t fix. tumblr is a website

2. What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

183877

3. How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

The Untamed/Mo Dao Zu Shi, Disney Descendants, glowfic, the Magnus Archives, NBC Hannibal, Cthulhu Mythos, the Alexander Trilogy, the Screwtape Letters, Academia RPF, Mad Max, the Vorkosigan Saga, Sacrifices Arc, Zootopia, DCU, Avatar the Last Airbender, MCU, Star Wars Legends, Star Wars sequel trilogy, Lord of the Rings, British Actor RPF, Disney Animated Canon, Taylor Swift RPF.

I... tend to hop fandoms a lot. Most of these are things I wrote one fic in.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

By far my most popular fic by kudos is You Know What They Say About Foxes (They’ll Break Your Heart). Fucking furries.

My second is my other Zootopia fic, Stretch Yourself, followed by Slicing Free (trans girl Mal from Descendants), An Isolated Outbreak of Virginity (Finnpoe virginity kink porn), and The Most Social of Human Interchanges (Ben loses his virginity by being gangbanged by the Core Four).

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

I don’t respond to comments because I didn’t realize this was a thing you were supposed to do, and now I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to most of them. I do read every one and they make my day every time.

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

uh good question

I feel like I’m going to have to give the award to “that’s what woods are for”, because I had to put increasingly unambiguous tags about how miserable everyone in this fic is to keep people from posting things complaining about how unhappy the ending is. Now no one posts this but also no one reads it. My genius is unrecognized in its own time.

7. Do you write crossovers? If so what’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I don’t usually write crossovers (outside of glowfic) but I am the QUEEN of fusion fanfic. Every time I consume a piece of media I’m like “what if this were mdzs fusion instead.”

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Someone took a whole hell of a lot of offense to Blessed Art Thou Among Women (my fic about how in the Descendantsverse Frollo canonically has a child) and left me an extremely nasty comment about it. It wasn’t clear to me what they were offended by.

There’s also a lot of vagueblogging about An Isolated Outbreak of Virginity being racist which, I promise you, I write this shit in every imaginable fandom. I am not at all reserving it for black dudes.

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

Yes.

I write angsty, character-focused, relationship-driven smut; if there’s a choice between hotness and developing the relationship, I pick the relationship every time. One time Grace said about one of my fics “this is the least sexy porn I have ever read” and I felt deeply understood. (That was one of the less angsty ones, actually, it was just K*hneman and Tv*rsky bickering about whether wanting anal sex was a cognitive bias.)

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope. :(

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

I mean, I’m a glowficcer, so...

A lot of my fics wind up so influenced by grace that even though they’re technically independently written by me they wind up 20% cowritten by grace anyway. It’s less so now because we’re in different fandoms. :( But their fingers are over every inch of hymns.

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

how can anyone answer this question???????

14. What’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

My Screwtape Letters fanfic wound up falling apart, mostly because I lost contact with most of the people who were going to beta it for Christianity accuracy and haven’t found other people who would be equally good.

15. What are your writing strengths?

I’m funny. I do really good characterization and character-driven fics. I’m pretty good at writing angst. I have excellent weirdtopias, particularly related to sex and gender worldbuilding, as well as coherent economics.

smut

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

I sometimes tend to drop into my own voice and lose the character voice. I have a hard time coming up with original characters. Plot is not my strong point when it isn’t character-driven. Weirdly, I have a hard time writing combat, even though it seems like an identical skill to writing smut. I start many many many projects and do not finish them.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

I’m a monolingual English speaker so I mostly don’t. I tend to go with the “he said in Russian” approach. My glowfic has ever had dialogue which I used Google Translate for, but glowfic tends to be lower effort in this kind of way

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter. (It was really bad Mary Sue fanfic.)

19. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

mm right now probably ‘only hymns upon your lips’? It’s good. You should read it. I PROMISE I WILL FINISH IT AT SOME POINT BUT MY BRAIN IS ONLY SANGCHENG

no obligation tags: @irrealisms, @wolffyluna, @regicidal-optimism, @another-normal-anomaly, @existentialterror

#westwind.txt #fandom

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mirahuyooo · 4 years

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Nighthawk | ksj

Nighthawk

—No matter the effort, he always plagues your mind in nights like this one, reminding you of the feelings you let get out of hand.

Word Count: 1,638 Contents: AnGST, a smidgen of fluff and crack, jin and y/n are besties OwO Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader A/N: I noticed I haven’t written anything for jin in a long while (shame on me) so here’s this! I’m in mood for love—unrequited love. Hope you all enoyed! Today’s sad, sad piece is inspired by the word;

Nighthawk

n. a recurring thought that only seems to strike you late at night—an overdue task, a nagging guilt, a looming and shapeless future—that circles high overhead during the day, that pecks at the back of your mind while you try to sleep, that you can successfully ignore for weeks, only to feel its presence hovering outside the window, waiting for you to finish your coffee, passing the time by quietly building a nest.

P.S. I just wanna remind everyone that dYNAMITE IS COMING SOON oehgtiuabrgujbaufg prepare YOUR LoINS eveRYONE we’RE about tO gET deSTROYED ahksgabrigk

[masterlist]

A sigh leaves your lips as you close the door behind you, setting your bag down on the nearby kitchen counter. It was late—very late. Your face disappears behind the hand that you had brought forth to rub the furrowing of your eyebrows away. There was a damning silence that reigned over your empty Seoul city apartment, and you were attacked from it reflecting your current state, leaving you no choice but to throw yourself in bed.

The moonlight filters lightly through the curtains, casting over the lump of blankets you soon cocooned yourself in. Not even bothering to slip out of the clothes you’ve been wearing for the past twelve hours, you buried your face into one of the many spare pillows you had placed around you, hugging it closer to your chest as you dealt with the fissures seizing your heart. Alas, the frustration of not falling asleep adds to the weight you carry with you. At the very least, with the pillows surrounding you, whatever demons lurking in the dark won’t be able to add to the problems you were dealing with.

You knew it was a senseless and pathetic feat. All of this was practically your own fault. You were, after all, the architect of your own melancholy, and, for some unfortunate reason, you were exceptionally good at this particular skill.

Fuelling your despair, you deemed it befitting to punish yourself by reaching for your phone and further depriving yourself of much needed sleep. You’ve been lying around for what seemed like eternity—you weren’t quite sure. Your mind barely registers the numbers that the clock displayed before you, and in all honesty, you’ve lost the ability to care about it at all. You’ve stayed up well past the hours of 2 AM before, doing the same self-wallowing sessions you were doing right now. You had long been a seasoned connoisseur in ploughing through ungodly hours—something he’s always scolded you for.

As some sort of hilarious joke you couldn’t quite understand, fate throws something in your way as you scroll through Twitter—a picture of you and the very man who’s been plaguing your thoughts at 2:18 AM in the morning—Kim Seokjin. Even as your eyes start to blur with tears, they still drink his beauty in—his plump lips, his deep piercing eyes, and his confident gait. Combine those compelling factors with his welcoming persona, astounding cooking skills, and sheer talent, and you’ve got yourself one fine man that you’ve been simping over for the past decade or so. Oh, how blessed you’d be if he was yours.

Unfortunately, there also existed compelling factors that couldn’t make Kim Seokjin yours.

For instance, there was your remarkable trait of being a damn coward. Residing so long within the realm of the accursed Friend Zone had fashioned your fears into mighty beasts that bullied you into staying within the borders of the said zone, regardless of your countless attempts to escape it. Always at the last minute, your mind compels you to retreat at the nightmare of ruining the friendship you two had fostered over so many years—should he ever realize that you were a peasant compared to his princely attributes.

Speaking of being low beneath him, you very much were one. You’ve made peace with your inferiority to his beauty and lifestyle, so much that you could stomach sitting next to him in all of your bare-faced, broke glory. You were well aware that you were average—disagreeable next to him, but average nonetheless.

In other aspects, your mundane life also pales in contrast to his exhilarating endeavors. He’s a beloved icon—a passionate singer and graceful dancer who tours the world to meet the millions he’s touched with his words and his group’s songs. You, on the other hand, exist on the other side of the spectrum. You were no one special really, which you really didn’t mind since you weren’t keen on being in the spotlight. The closest shot to fame you ever had was when you were revealed to be Kim Seokjin’s non-showbiz best friend who once shamelessly dominated him on an episode of EatJin.

You weren’t even his type, which had greatly satiated the accusations of some fans—it’s still undecided if you should take full offense on that one. You weren’t the cutesy, feminine, soft girl that’s often alluded to be matched with him. You were capable of a meal or two, but you were no master chef. The only thing in the box that you know you fulfil very well is that you take care of him—and you’re enormously proud of that accomplishment of yours.

As much as you mother him at times, there are still many a days where you wonder why on Earth he even remains as your best friend—what more if he was to be your boyfriend?

Another sigh leaves your lips once again, tearing your eyes away from the screen to stare up at the moon outside your window—the sole witness of the late night happenings that occur within the premises of your desolate life. Ah, but even the moon would remind you of him.

There was a sensation going abuzz within you—something you knew all too well. You’ve done your best to ignore the infestation of feelings that had apprehended your very being, even attempting to exterminate it by going on numerous blind dates. Unfortunately, the damn lovebug has always damned you, always surviving and multiplying with every sweet gesture, every dashing smile, and every uplifting heart-to-heart that he delivers to you.

All of a sudden, your phone rings. The screen reveals the face of the very man you’ve been having a debate with your mind about. Jin was calling you.

“Why does he have to be like this?” you whined to no one in particular, snivelling away as you were further left a mess. The moment your hand properly holds the device again, you glare at the image. “I hate him,” you grumble, but not really.

As soon as you answered, you weren’t given a chance to talk. “Why are you online?” he instantly asks you in that scolding tone you were so familiar with.

Your heart flutters, even you went to roll your eyes. “Why are you up?” you countered childishly, voice raspy from your recent breakdown.

Jin’s delectable chuckle makes you squeak into the plush of a nearby pillow. “Ya! I just woke up,” he defensively says, not seeming to take notice of your little stunt. “I’m just grabbing a little snack, and then I’ll go back to bed,” he informs you, “busy day tomorrow, after all.”

You hum, as your insides continue with its attempts to betray you. “I couldn’t sleep,” you find yourself admitting to him in a weakened tone.

As you hear the slight ruckus in the background, Jin tsk-ed at your bad decisions. You prepared yourself to be told off. “Scrolling through social media won’t help, stupid,” he softly chastised, much to your surprise and damnation. “Drink the tea I got you from Japan,” he tells you, making you fluster. “You still have that right?”

You could only hum in response, as you further coiled into a fetal position—as if to say you were made as soft as a baby by this man. You held back a snivel, as your mess of emotions continued to make you cry over him.

“Good,” Jin says, still not aware of the true state of ruin you were in. “Go on and drink some, then. It’ll help you sleep.”

A sniff escapes you. “Okay,” you say with a whimper clinging onto the last syllable.

This time, your best friend doesn’t miss the sound. You could imagine him freezing, stopping whatever it was he was doing. “(Y/N), are you alright?” he asks, concern already pouring through in those few words alone.

Not wanting to conflict him, you went out of your way to fake a cough and a few more sniffles. “Yeah,” you said, in spite of your heart hammering against your chest. “I’m just tired from all the arranging earlier.”

The silence that followed was eventually broken by Jin clearing his throat. “Rest well then,” he tells you, before he goes to tease. “No one should look ugly at my wedding, and that includes you.”

Ah, there it was—the one last factor that cements you to the confines of your prison cell in the zone of unrequited love.

“Good night, (Y/N),” he says, voice gentle enough to destroy your heart.

In the silence that followed, Jin didn’t hang up. He never really does hang up first. You smile bitterly, tears silently flowing one after the other like a waterfall. “Goodbye, Jin,” you tell him, ending the call just as a sob wrecks through you. You put down your phone, and cry into your pillow.

Kim Seokjin—your best friend, your greatest regret—is getting married, and to a woman you knew would be perfect for him—a woman so graceful, beautiful, and skillful. After all, you were the one who had introduced the two of them together in the first place. You had no doubt that the two of them would be happily ever after.

You wonder then, if you hadn’t pushed your feelings aside so adamantly and went with the hell of it, would you have been the one in white to be waiting down the aisle? At any point in time, was there really a smidgen of a chance that Jin would’ve said that he liked you back?

You’ll never know.

Your puffy eyes wander towards the lone moon that shone brightly behind your sheer curtains. Your nightly companion was staring right back at you, but all you could hear were your thoughts.

It was all your fault.

#bts au #bts imagines #bts angst #bts jin #bts kim seokjin #bts jin imagine #bts jin x reader #kim seokjin #kim seokjin angst #kim seokjin imagines #kim seokjin x reader

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ukiyoly · 4 years

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Unspoken Words [MysMe - 707/Saeyoung]

Hi! This is the very first fic I ever wrote, and it’s a Mystic Messenger one as well! Am I super stressed about it? You can bet I am! :D

Special thanks to @saeyoungs-sunflower for proof-reading it for me! You're such an angel!! ♡

This was actually inspired by a song, “After Dark - Aimer - words”. I couldn’t help falling in love with it, and this little story is what popped to my mind when I read its touching lyrics. Definitely give it a try!^^

[Saeyoung x MC]

Genre: Angst (?)

Word Count: 1.3k

Synopsis: As time goes by, we learn to move on from the past. But leaving behind the person you once considered your soulmate can prove to be one of the most painful choices you ever had to make.

Notes: This is based on the Reset/Sentient 707 Theory.

“I love you.”

Those words that echoed within your very soul.

Those letters you had grown so fond of.

...Did they really have any meaning anymore?

Getting out of the shower, you checked your phone for any new notifications, switching among countless apps and social medias, without any real purpose. You just felt empty staring at your lock screen, as a twinge of sadness within your chest reminded you once again of the people you had decided to leave behind.

It had been almost a month since you had last opened the messenger app. You had already completed everyone’s route after all, and there was no need for you to go back. You gave everyone their happy ending, and the game just reset as it should. You never dared to achieve a bad ending, afraid of hurting those people you had grown to care so much for.

That was it. You had made it. You had completed the game.

You had given Yoosung the courage he needed to move on.

You offered Zen the reassurance and care he needed so much.

You helped Jaehee to finally live up her dreams.

You allowed Jumin to open up and managed to heal him.

You gifted Saeyoung the happy ending he always deserved.

“…It was supposed to be over.” That’s what you told yourself, at least.

The resets were bound to happen after all. It was all programmed. No matter how many times you started it all over again, you could feel the pain in your chest getting stronger each and every time they occurred, knowing that in the end… you would never be truly happy with them. You were ready to leave everything as it was; ready to move on. Leaving behind the RFA in the ‘happily-ever-after’ you gave them, and finally going somewhere where you hoped you could at least find the solace you longed for.

But that last glance you gave the messenger icon was when everything unfolded once again. His now so-familiar words echoed through your ears, almost numbing your whole body and mind.

“Aww, yeah! You’re the best!”

“Your voice has been playing inside my head nonstop today.”

“I really like that you’re so bright. I feel like I’m under the sun when I talk to you.”

“Do you think... it’s possible? Can we really overcome all obstacles and smile in the end? And one day… have a happy family?”

“What can I do to protect you?”

“I don’t want you to be in danger ever again.”

“I love you. I want you to look at me and love me too. We’ve come too far to turn back. I’m already too deep into you…”

“I love you, my one and only love.”

And that’s where you gave in. You felt the floor collapse under your feet as tears began gathering up in your eyes.

“He loves you”, you thought, “he really does.”

Your mind was flooded with thoughts of the person you once considered your true love, the one your heart had been seeking for so long. You tried so hard to contain the downpour of emotions inside of you, afraid of breaking down like shattered glass if your mind went too deep into those words of his.

~“Let’s Marry In The Space Station!”~

That was your breaking point. As silly as that promise was… it meant something.

God, you had heard it so many times now, as a simple, mere joke, more often than not.

But your mind still couldn’t help flashing back at the bright and cheerful images of the 707 you laughed so much with, of the Luciel who suffered and still kept on fighting, and of the Saeyoung who had opened his heart and offered it to you.

For so many years, you wondered what “Love” really meant. It wasn’t until he came into your life that you started seeing the monochrome world burst into a myriad of vivid colours. He had made you happy… It was the very first time you had felt someone genuinely care about you. With his heart and soul, he would be ready to offer his life for you.

…And you loved him, too.

You weren’t lying when you screamed those words at him at the top of your lungs while on the verge of death. You promised him you would take care of Saeran together, and that you would always be there for each other. But now, you couldn’t face Saeyoung anymore, afraid of him hating you for being a liar.

Your mind was still filled with the memories of your soulmate. Your whole body missed his gentle touch, his caresses and the comfort he gave you whenever he held you in his arms. His tender voice, paired with his unique outfits which never failed to either make you burst out laughing, or made you look at him with admiration; You missed him. So much…

There was nothing more you could do for him, before everything would reset. You grew tired of that endless cycle of pain, guilt and regrets for your never-fullfilling promise, and, for as much as it pained you, you deciced to distance yourself and leave everything in what you thought was “The best possible outcome”.

Slumped over on the floor, a few words left your quivering lips, holding the weight of a thousand regrets.

“Forgive me… Sae, please…”

You had once again disappeared from the messenger. He always waited for a reset; to be able to see your gentle smile, to feel your soft lips on top of his, and to tell you how much you fulfilled his entire being once again. But that day never came. Soon enough, he started fearing that you might have gotten bored out of it all and left everything behind you. There was a linger of hope which kept him wondering if you’d at least come back to say ‘Farewell”, or just send him a small text through the RFA chatroom. But days turned into weeks, and there was still no response.

“I should have known this day was about to come. …I don’t deserve to be happy with you, after all. I never truly did.”

A single tear rolled down Saeyoung’s cheek, as he stared up at the sky, and the pain in his voice, becoming more apparent with every word he uttered.

He knew he was your favourite. You had repeated it, over and over. You promised him that no matter whose route you would chose, you’d always come back for him in the end. And the single thought of you breaking that promise shattered his heart in a thousand pieces.

“…You’re so mean. You left without a single word. And I had faith that you would come back… But look at me now. I fell for the sweetest angel that ever existed, and not having you here is so damn painful. Why did you leave without a goodbye…? We had made a promise to each other… I… can’t go on without you…”

A long silence ensued as the red headed boy closed his eyes and mustered the courage to finally say those words which pained him to the core. This time, no one was there to see the pain in his face. Yet, there was a hint softness in his voice, and a spark of hope which ignited his golden eyes once again. His right hand digging into the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out little kitty-like gadget, its white fur and icy blue eyes mirroring Jumin's beloved cat. A sigh left Saeyoung's mouth, as he stared at the object endearingly...

“...I love you. And I always will. You might forget about me, but I never will. I’ll wait for your return… always. Even if the stars don’t want us to meet again,” he said as a smile graced his lips and tears streamed down his face.

“We had promised to go to the space station together, after all…”

~ 💕~

#Mystic Messenger #Mystic Messenger 707 #Saeyoung Choi #Fic #Unspoken Words #My Writing #(I'm so glad I managed to write this!)#I hope you liked it... qwq #Thank you for reading this far! Here for you! ^-^)/🍪#Have an amazing day/night!! ♡

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adrenaline-roulette · 4 years

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I say no

Pairing: Josh Washington x Reader Summary: This takes place in the aftermath of the events of Hannah and Beth’s disappearance, and before the return to the mountain. I’ve been listening to, I say no from the Heather’s musical on repeat lately, and have basically created a multi chapter fic to go with it. I’m not sure how many chapters this will be in total, but this first chapter is mostly being used as set up, and introducing our lead! Warnings: Language Word Count: 2.5K+

Chapter One

Being the new kid in school is never an easy thing, starting part way through the term though? That only makes things worse. You want to say that it isn’t your fault that you had to change schools, truly you do. But unfortunately, that would just be a lie. There was no one else you could blame, not really. It was your choices which had lead you to being expelled, no one had forced you to do what you did, this was all on you. Starting part way through the term meant you hadn’t been given the chance to select your own classes, and instead, had been thrown into anything that had a free space. Which was how you had ended up here, sitting in a computer lab surrounded by media students, with you not knowing the first thing about film production.

The class consisted of roughly thirty students, all of whom had broken off into either partners or small groups, gossiping about what they had gotten up to during their mid-winter break. You sat alone, scribbling todays date at the top of your notebook, as you absently swivelled in your chair. Straining your ears, you tried your best to pick up on what some of the surrounding people were talking about, though you were only able to pick up bits and pieces. “Washington sisters…” “-Police didn’t find any trace.” “Think Josh will come back?” “Hannah and Mike got cosy….”

None of the names being thrown around meant anything to you, but clearly whatever had occurred was the talk of the school. You felt almost left out, a part of you wishing you had been here at least a few months longer, that way you may at least know the people who were being discussed. “That’s enough, settle down everyone!” A female voice calls from the front of the classroom, causing silence to fall over the entire class. “Welcome back class, I hope you all enjoyed your winter break….” As the woman, who you now assume to be the teacher continues with her welcome, you take the chance to look her over. Dark brunette hair had been sculpted into a high bun atop her head, the hairs having been pulled so tightly away from her face, she almost appeared bald at first glance. A bright smear of fuchsia coated her lips, and you have to give her credit for that, it was a bold colour choice for a woman bordering on sixty… She wore a knee length, blue 1950’s style skirt with pale pink roses dotted around the edge, completing the look with a white turtle neck sweater. All in all it was an, interesting outfit to say the least. “Now, we have a new student starting with us today, Y/N Y/L/N please make yourself known to the class.”

Fuck, you knew this part was coming, but that didn’t make you dread it any less. Fighting back the groan which danced on the tip of your tongue, you pushed yourself up from your chair, raising your hand partially. “Hi.”

“Hello Y/N, I’m Mrs Hill. Welcome to our school.” Your teachers smile is all teeth, and you respond with a soft head nod, not wanting to be stood any longer than necessary. Mrs Hill returns to the board at the front of the classroom, marking the end of her greeting towards you. A breath slips out as you collapse back in your chair, causing a few sets of eyes to turn your way.

You’re perhaps ten minutes through class and had already zoned out, doodling tiny patterns in the margin of your page, when the door swings open and a young man enters, his bag slung over his shoulder, and a look of unease gracing his features. “Ah, Josh. Thank you for joining us, please take a seat.”

The man, Josh, looks about ready to argue with Mrs Hill, but quickly loses all fight when he catches sight of the blonde man sitting one seat away from you. The blonde was shaking his head no, while mouthing something to Josh. You couldn’t make out what he was saying, but whatever it was, it was enough to get Josh to stalk across the class and take his seat. You had chosen to sit at the back of the class in the corner, while the blonde man had sat nearby, leaving one seat free between you. Josh rolls the spare seat away from the desk, dumping his bag and flopping down ungracefully. He turns in his seat, looking over his shoulder at you, and lifting one brow, before his attention is drawn back to Mrs Hill.

*****

Two weeks down, and god knows how many to go. You had successfully done the bare minimum in all of your classes so far, much to your teachers’ disapproval. The only class which you put any effort into was media, surprisingly. Whether that was because you actually enjoyed the subject, or because Josh and the blonde man who sat next to him, Chris, were both willing to help you out, and include you in their groups, was still up for debate. “Hey, hey Y/N, wait up!” A familiar voice calls to you from the opposite end of the corridor, you turn to see Chris bounding down towards you, the man reminding you of an over excited Labrador.

“Hey, what’s up Chris?” You smile, zipping your bag closed, after swapping your books from your previous class out for the books needed for the next.

“I wanted to see if you had anything planned for lunch today?”

You regard him with raised brows, thinking back to what you had packed for your lunch. “Um, nothing special. Just the usual ham and cheese sandwich….”

“What? Oh, no that’s not what I meant! I wanted to see if you’d like to have lunch with me and Josh, and the rest of the gang? If you don’t have other plans that is?”

“Oh, um yeah? Yeah, that sounds really nice thanks.” You grin, before following Chris down the corridor, where he leads you into an empty classroom. “Right, is this the part where you murder me?” You chuckle, though you quickly stop as you notice a look of hurt flash through his eyes.

Chris drags his fingers through his already messy hair, an uneasy smile forming over his lips. “Haha, no. Um this is one of the perks of being mates with the class president.” He shrugs, flicking the light switch on, and illuminating the room.

“The class president? That’s Mike yeah?” You ask, expecting Chris to answer, instead you’re met with an unfamiliar voice in response.

“At your service, and you are?” The man in question bows, extending a hand to you with a cocky grin.

“Y/N. Nice to meet you.” You grin, fighting against the eyeroll which threatened to overcome you. It wouldn’t do to go rolling your eyes at the class president, that would be a great way to make him dislike you!

“So tell me Y/N, how is it you know who I am, yet I don’t know you?”

You shrug, resting your hands in the back pockets of your jeans. “The girl who showed me around on my first day pointed you out in the corridor. She said she would’ve introduced us, but didn’t want to interrupt your game of tonsil hockey.” Your lips quirk at the corner as you finish.

“This tour guide you had, was she about this tall, blonde hair, hazel eyes, and covered in paint splatters?” Chris laughs, his eyes now shining with mirth.

You nod, looking between the two men. “Sounds like something our Sammy would say. She’ll be along soon, and I’m sure Mike will want to have a couple of words with her about introducing him in such a way.”

As if on cue, the door swings open again, this time with Sam walking in, followed closely by Josh, then a blonde woman and brunette woman you didn’t recognise. “Y/N, hey it’s great to see you again!” Sam waves, as Josh makes his way over to you, leaning against a desk near you.

“You remember my name?” You blink in surprise at Sam, who simply grins in reply.

“Of course I remember your name, we don’t get many new students here.”

“Don’t bullshit Sam, we get plenty of new students here.” The brunette smirks, flipping her hair behind her ear as she sidles up to Mike.

The second blonde giggles, a tinkling sound which you imagine would get tiresome rather quickly. “It’s just not everyday we get a new student who burnt down their last school’s science labs….”

You bite your bottom lip, a frown creasing your features as you cast your gaze towards the ground. Slowly, you nod your head, blinking away the stinging tears which clawed at your eyes. “Right, thanks for that. This has been great guys, but I’ve got my own personal demons who can talk to me like this, I don’t think I need to hear it twice.” You mutter, pushing away from the desk and starting across the room.

“That’s great Jess, really, just perfect.” You hear Josh growl, and you notice the blonde shrink away under his harsh glare.

“Em, that wasn’t fair. And Jess, pull your fucking head in.” Chris grumbles.

You move towards the door pushing your way through, paying no attention to the two people you barge past who had been trying to enter the room. “Everything alright-” You don’t stick around to hear the rest of what the new voice had to say. You didn’t need this, all you had to do was get through the rest of this year, and then next year and finally you would be finished with school. Fuck friends, who even needs them anyways?

You storm into the bathroom, slamming the stall door closed behind you, and making sure to lock it, before sitting down on the toilet lid, doubling over and resting your forearms over your knees, then pressing your forehead against them. After a few minutes there’s a faint knock on the bathroom door, which you find odd, it was a public bathroom, why would anybody bother knocking? “Y/N, its me… Can I come in?” That was Sam, you would recognise her voice anywhere. You’re half tempted to tell her to bugger off, but she hadn’t done anything wrong, if anything she had been trying to keep the peace.

“Yeah.” You call back, the only response being that of the bathroom door creaking open. You can hear male voices just outside, but you pay them little mind, putting it down to students passing by as Sam entered.

The silence which fills the tiled room is tangible, and a part of you almost thinks Sam had never even bothered to come inside. “I’m sorry about Jess and Emily. They’re, well I don’t even know how to describe them really. Neither of them have a filter though, I guess that’s a start… They’re dealing with something at the moment, we all kinda are, but they don’t seem to know how to vice those feelings…. I don’t know if anything that I’m saying is making any sense. But just know that I’m sorry.”

You watch Sam’s feet pace back and forth in front of the stall door, occasionally pausing as if she were about to settle, then picking up their walk once again. Leaning forward, you unlock the door, allowing it to swing inwards. “I did it.”

Sam pauses, locking eyes with you and tilting her head to the side. “Did what?”

“I burnt down the science labs. Nearly got a teacher killed in the process….”

Sam nods, averting her eyes for a few seconds. “Yeah, I know. I was told before taking you around school, the admin staff wanted me to know that apparently you could be, how they said, unstable…”

Your head perks up at this, and you wipe away one of the few tears which had slipped free. “They said I was unstable?”

Sam nods once again, though this time remains silent. “I’m not though! It was something that happened, but I’m getting the help I need!”

“Hey, it’s okay! I never thought you were!” Sam moves into the stall, resting a hand over your shoulder rubbing her thumb in gentle circles there. “During winter break, we did something terrible… At least, I think we did. If anyone found out what we did, they would call me unstable too.”

“Wh-What did you do?” You stammer out, blinking up at the smiling woman. She looked far to innocent to have done anything worth being labelled unstable over.

Sam shakes her head no, the smile falling for a moment. “Not now, I’ll tell you some other time. For now, lets get you cleaned up, and ready for class.”

You take her outstretched hand, and feel yourself be pulled into a standing position, allowing Sam to lead you over to the sinks, where she wets some paper towel, and dabs it under your eyes, clearing them of your smudged makeup. “There we go, good as new!” She grins, balling up the paper and throwing it into the bin. “Ready to head back out?”

“No, but I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” You shrug, following Sam to the door, her hand resting on the handle.

“I’ll talk to Jess and Emily, see if I can get them to apologise…”

“No, I don’t want a forced apology. I’d be happy with them to just not bring my past up again.”

“Easy done.” Sam pulls the door open, and you both march back into the world of school life, the corridors were beginning to fill with students once more, and you could only assume classes would be starting shortly. Chris and Josh had made themselves comfortable on the ground, backs pressed up against the wall as the spoke animatedly about something.

Josh is the first to see the both of and leaps to his feet, grinning mostly at you. “Hey, sorry about the girls back there… They can be a bit bitchy sometimes.” He gestures over his shoulder with his thumb, back to the classroom you had all left.

“It’s fine, I know how girls can be sometimes.” You shrug, turning to smile softly at Sam, before returning you attention to Josh.

Sam watches Chris from the corner of her eye as he struggles to stand up, rolling her eyes as it takes him three attempts. “Come on you big oaf, we’ve gotta get to History.” She grins, taking a few steps backwards down the corridor.

Chris seems reluctant to leave, but does so anyways, passing you one final smile before leaving with Sam. “Right, class. That’s a thing isn’t it?”

Josh smirks, wrapping one arm around your shoulders and leading you through the mass of students. “Mhm, it is a thing. But no one said it was a mandatory thing…”

You turn your head to look up at Josh, who had his eyes locked dead a head, his sight set on the front doors. “Last I heard, school in fact was mandatory.”

“I’ve been given special privileges due to, external circumstances. We’ll just say I needed you for support?”

“Fine, where are we going then Josh?”

MASTERLIST

If you want to be added to my taglist so you’re notified when the next chapters come up, just let me know!

Chapter Two out now!

#josh Washington x reader #josh washington fanfic #josh washington #rami malek/ josh washington #rami malek fanfiction #josh washington x y/n #until dawn #until dawn fanfiction #until dawn fanfic

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incarnateirony · 4 years

Text

S15 Remaster: Grace, Souls, Conversion; Effects of the Fall; The Journey of Man; Self-Godhood and Free Will.

Alright, so over in another thread (x) @curioussubjects evoked an interesting take about the effects of the fall vs grace/souls and the meaning of the two, and I remembered having an old post that was a bit of a mess from early S13 where I applied Qabbalistic concepts to SPN not long before the actual... Qabbalistic and Hermetic elements started manifesting (The Shadow, the Empty/Ain Soph, etc) and before I pretty much started flipping theological shit.

The other thread was already becoming titanic with a hodge podge of other philosophical musings between users (I think @winchestersingerautorepair and @thecoffeebrain-blog are still pending to add their additions to it once life clears them), so we sort of mutually agreed to save this discourse for another thread while I took some time to remaster and update the old talking points.

It's a fundamental point that is generally vaguely brushed over, or often has modern concepts plugged into it in streamlined media form rather than exploration: What makes a soul, what makes existence, what makes meaning in our lives.

This, in fact, is the fundamental question and exploration *of* the soul, which Dabb's SPN seems to be tackling fairly directly.

So let's explore the differences and transitional conversions of grace and soul as we've witnessed in SPN. I'll be starting with my take, but of course, as all philosophical discussions go, this is best a conversation of shared concepts.

Also uh, this post was kinda on-request but is literally ridonculously long. Fuck Andrew Dabb for being the only person on the face of the goddamn planet that can make me write infinite words about esoteric philosophy about a TV show.

So this conversation gets a bit difficult to even know where to begin. I'm going to notch a few notes for everybody to keep in mind: Season 6: Death can not destroy souls. Souls are the most powerful known force in the universe, and he who has the most Is Become God. Season 13: Only god can create new angels, they are the biological definition of an asexually reproductive species (as opposed to sexual orientation identity) -- they are unable to create among themselves, and must be created by a supreme force in command of the grace that creates them. This will passively brush over the oft-discussed topic of angel sexuality as well, but that is far from the core point. Season 14: God calls souls "complicated" to handwave away making new ones. Season 15: Yet again, Belphegor tried to consume souls to become a great power, reflecting S6/7 Castiel's arc.

Now that I've sort of dropped those as a lead-in of applicable concepts, I'd like to move forward.

Now as per my S13 listing, we've all seen this fandom turn over and try to apply human sexuality and identity labels to angels over and over again and, while I understand that and mean no offense to that in general, I feel like approaching it from that angle of the human perspective and lens makes a great deal of the substantiative qualities of SPN's discussion of the human soul vanish into the aether. How are these things related? Let's talk!

Sex isn’t the only part of this discussion. As they are wavelength lifeforms, rather than biological, they aren’t really dependent on biological functions. Many of their native elements pass to their vessels: They don’t eat, sleep, or have general body functions… normally.

Their senses are all sorts of different, too. They see in the astral, they taste and smell in molecular compounds, and especially early-vessel-claiming, they seem to have next to no actual pain response. It’s like, well, some giant wave form stuffed in a meat sack they use like a marionette more than having genuine attachment to. Early on angels could waltz through gunfire without flinching and take a knife to the chest with a very bland look of, “Really?”

When it comes to discussing angels and grace, I'm going to pull some sections from the linked post at the start of this:

We know the biblical concept that all things are made by grace; we know Chuck controls his fake construct, but not the free will of the human soul. Consider Gabriel’s constructed worlds where he can manipulate the fake people inside it and snap them away in veils of blue, they’re just pieces of a machine. “I’m the cage.” The human body is part of the sandbox, but the soul is something beyond it.

If angels are living aspects of grace, wavelengths of celestial intent for Chuck’s machinations, the programs that keep the matrix in order – and fallen angels are the rogue programs – they’re still relatively connected to being just… an animated, if intelligent rock or any other piece of the universe. To use more Matrix terms: Just more lines of code. But Castiel’s break in that was contact with his profound bond with Dean that left a mark on him, a brand, just like Balthazar’s soul claims. This tie was powerful enough to be stronger than even Amara’s connection to Dean, for example.

The human soul is the essence of the one true good, realistically – The One Thing that exists, truly, by which all other things come, the Prima Materia – “What Jack did wasn’t evil, it was the absence of good.” – this is actually a hermetic concept but that’s a whole other bag of words, that’s how I quoted that line before the episode aired from the title alone but MOVING ON

If we look at Eileen for example, her ghost is still deaf. Her body/cage/vessel in life never introduced her consciousness, her humanity, to the tactile sense of sound as it exists within Chuck’s sandbox, ergo her spirit doesn’t know it. But it is the soul, like the sleeper, seeking the meaning of its existence and where it is home that commands the body, and leaves the body, and ends up in chuck’s other matrixes of control like heaven and hell that keep people distracted, keep humans from returning to the primordial man that rivals or maybe even betters God.

That all said, human Cas for example suddenly had the full awareness of experience, rather than an autonomous sentient part of the universe chained to divine intent, free or not; that freedom and liberty came by way of the human soul. (Per metatron, Season 8 finale, “When you die and your soul comes to heaven,”) But with his tie to Dean, and humanity, and a soul his hands laid on, the extraction of his grace also left… but what? A soul born of Dean, really.

Whenever his grace came back, that universal power and awareness, he lost those senses, but he didn’t lose many of the attributes that came with. In fact he pined for them.

Also if we go Jungian with the inky man/shadow as the primordial man or spirit of man, Anthropos, while it didn’t reflect Lucifer, Billie, or soulless Jack it reflected Castiel.

I’ve held the theory that Castiel still has a soul like the nucleus of an egg buried beneath a titanic presence of universal power.

I’d also further endorse this by pointing out while metatron cited Cas having a soul in the S8 finale, when Jack lost his, neither Dean nor Cas thought Cas could empathize as well as Sam could.

In example, Castiel is the only one the Shadow reflected, not Billie, not Soulless Jack, not Lucifer, just Castiel; I’ve even gone so far as to speculate that the smiley attempt at communication was the sort of subconscious borg having the essence of Jack’s soul trying to communicate with his spirit/mind otherwise alert based on consumed grace in the Empty. Speculation, yes, but… potentially loudly resonant.

The journey of man to self-godhood is a complex and tangled affair, traveling through facets of the self represented by a wide array of *ideas* we have begun to face in the show (including color schemes Dabb has actively employed)

If you venture into my shorthand visual post about The Shadow, Anima, Animus, and the Self (x) you'll find how the show has chosen to address this. Similarly, the masculine and feminine paths of universal progenation would be worth a cursory read (x).

Similarly, @winchestersingerautorepair recently sent me a chart from a 1973 book titled "The Colors of Love" discussing Hellenistic use of color in association (which, minding alchemy's growth path through time, is hugely relevant). As Maeve said, "John Allen Lee is the mvp by the way. Hes at the crossroads of psychology and LGBT concepts of love and sexuality, and has a fascinating career and life story."

Before I fully locked on to just how loud Dabb was being in his use of alchemy rather than casually tapping on it, you may remember a series of color metas I built specifically on these very colors (and, let's face it, black light doesn't exist, but blue does, and has similar psychological associations). Click this (x) to go to my color metas on tumblr regarding Optimism, which follows this path. Unfortunately my Nihilism one is either untagged or I only posted it on Pillowfort. But you’ll take note I just sort of avoided/dodged/ignored established fanon color meta in favor of other stuff, just a heads up there if you’re expecting me to follow anyone else’s pre-existing fanon -- it ain’t there.

This is all an aside to the actual question of *souls*, but an important framework to how Dabb is choosing to explore the journey of the soul through its many aspects of Being.

To defer back to what I quoted from my other post about Gabriel's universes: What makes humanity different from the moving bodies performing functions of controlled story, rather than guided elements, inside Gabriel's world? If we were to, say, drift into Doctor Sexyverse, or Cop Proceduralverse, nobody seemed to flinch or even be aware of Sam and Dean breaking the script, they continued on their own paths until Sam and Dean "played their parts". But what made Sam and Dean *different* from them?

Explaining freedom to angels is "a bit like teaching poetry to a fish," said Castiel, now bound to humanity since laying his hands on the human soul in hell that, even the S8 DVD commentary mentions, is how he has come to know, love and, as they say, be "enamored with" humanity. We have seen it now-- blank stares of confusion from breaking their course of action, their function. Their predesigned purpose that they were wavelengths of intent for within the machine. They aren't all so different from Gabriel's creations in the end, with Doctor Sexy's Nurses being not too unlike angels to Chuck. They are there for a path and a reason, and should they be somehow interrupted from that function, they seem to lose all purpose.

To convert this to another method of understanding than "matrix code", in case that isn't sinking in with anyone, think of angels as forces of nature. The hurricane means no malice, it simply exists as a function of or even result of universal laws, and often evokes great rebalancing effects that change the course of history for a huge amount of humans and other creatures that it's basically oblivious to. The hurricane does not understand your feelings much less care about them. It is here to do what it does until it is done with what it does. This very concept is why so many ancient gods are primitive archetypes of natural forces.

If we cease trying to box angels into human perceptions for the want to identify with them in such a representation-light landscape, the field opens up to something infinitely more complicated. Such as: what makes Castiel so different? I've already addressed that, of course, in this post, but let's pitch that as a conversational hook again.

"You want to know why we're meant to stay away from those humans? It's not because we're a danger to them. It's because they're a danger to us."

Now BECAUSE sexuality is the angle this fandom has heavily thrown its discussion chips into beyond the other senses, I'm going to move forward into that topical field:

Anna, talking to Dean, lists a long flurry of reasons to become human, among which sex was stapled. In later seasons, Cas comes up with a different list, but it’s more reflective of his emotive view of humanity, and doesn’t include the sex. Either way, it actually leaves interesting take on the human soul’s function (which is also a silent part of something I’ll get to later** ) as per the trinity of mind-soul-body sometimes called “The Threefold Nature of Man” in a lot of classic mysticism. **

So why would Anna include sex in the list if others can enjoy it? There’s various reasons of taking this into consideration, and I consider most headcanon potentials valid since… you know, there’s really no clear statement on this.

- Most angels have a copilot and that’s just creepy AF - It could be subliminal commentary of wanting to enjoy a native drive for it rather than a learned one, since affections and emotions are also canonically attached to the human condition (as well as the 3fold Nature discussed later). - It could have to do with gradual humanization effects (will discuss shortly) - Misc other.

Barring our specific presumption of why this hangs in the air, the detail is that it simply *does*. Perhaps the truth is between all of these, with each angel unto their own.

Anna lurked, invisibly, on earth observing men as long as she knew. Now, gradual humanization effects is a complete headcanon proposal associated around all elements to be covered in this discussion. That is to say, most angels that have exhibited sexual behavior and enjoyment of various goods have either been fallen or in their vessels for a LONG TIME, perhaps gradually removing the disassociation from the body and gaining familiarity with its functions.

Yes, we can evoke Balthazar’s sexual activity, but we must also evoke his appreciation for wine and food and music and all of the other things that we have canonically, even mechanically witnessed in Castiel (inability to appreciate food or drink, in example, as an angel.) So WHAT makes Balthazar different that he CAN experience all of these things (beyond the potential of Plothole AF)? There is literally something he has that other angels don’t. The second Cas clicks back to angel, he can’t appreciate food anymore and beer does nothing for him, but Balthazar can enjoy alcohol? There is LITERALLY a difference of template of EVERYTHING going on here, not just sexuality. We can postulate it all we want, but the only one that immediately comes to mind is “gradual humanization”, as we haven’t the FOGGIEST idea how long he has had his vessel. Unless we assume various appreciations of his are Just An Act, but then why not assume it’s performance behavior on the sexuality too? Pick one or the other, don’t run the line on both. (Also if you want to be under the assumption that despite terminal soul dealing it was his first vessel run, I’m going to leave this as a note, and a REMINDER of his meddling in attachment to, handling, trade and use of human souls for his own means, and tuck this aside until we GET to the meaning of human souls.)

The VERY SAME can be said of Gabriel. And Gabriel we KNOW has been on earth as Gabe for a VERY. LONG. TIME. His sweet tooth is what got him busted. Again, it’s not just about his sexuality, it’s his entire composition is somehow DIFFERENT from otherwise canonical function of angels.

Again I point out there’s also a big ??????? on Naomi because again… 400 year old Crowley in Mesopotamia. We have no educated way to even ADDRESS that one because… is it a time warp? WTH??? Even Mark called this a plothole. Literally we have to headcanon how they were even there together before we headcanon what was even going on in a big old pillar of ridiculous headcanon, so I’m going to float that off in a box labeled with a question mark and admit, it’s just random AF. The “fling” is also implied and unclear. So I mean- we’ll just… note that and keep moving on why it’s never impacted my perception of this much.

How long fallen was Lucifer?

Hannah brings an obvious question to mind in challenge to all of my surrounding premises, but this is literally where “choice of experimentation within a vessel” comes into play, as with all of them. I’m human now, this seems like a fun thing to humans, let me try the thing; that’s all I’ve ever read that as. You may have your read of it otherwise, but angels try a lot of things. And I’ll bring this up during canon talk.

The concept of humanization-with-time does have some further established presence of S13. When Lucifer is still an angel but largely drained of his grace, he too begins feeling compulsions of hunger, cold, and basic human instinct he was previously immune to. Diminished power, and the closer one comes to being of Soul Rather than Grace, the more they seem to resonate. Anna carved out her grace to fully enjoy humanity and was born into it, experiencing its gifts of awareness. Cas can no longer fully enjoy humanity as an angel. We don’t know what Balthazar’s status is. And so on. But it appears that by VARIOUS METHODS, such as the depletion of grace or just being a long-assed time to attach to a specific vessel, they do end up ATTAINING various behaviors.

Preparing to speak on Humanized Angels.

What really triggered this premise to me was the recurring humanization of Castiel. And again, this goes far beyond just sexuality preferences. I’m going to do a brief break to get to that ** I marked above about the threefold nature of man before expanding.

** Mind-Soul-Body trinity:

Angels have the mind/spirit (grace) and body, but lack a soul; grace is closer to their natural body’s composition than molecular and transmits a wavelength thought into whatever sack they’re using to operate. But there’s a disconnect here in classic mind-soul-body structure (which is sometimes alternately listed as Body-Spirit-Soul, with Soul as the mind instead, and Spirit in place of the alternate listing of Soul? People swap these terms interchangeably but you’ll find a common pull). There’s multiple takes on this. For example, we’ll go with the standard accepted biblical take as a first ideation of it, considering the various judeochristian influences of SPN.

Please NOTE I’m going to list several variations of this, and have no hard cast “this is the exact model” they’re using, as much as “this is a recurring theme in religion and philosophy”, which, while SPN is rarely 100% accurate to any one specific model, they often call on.

The EXACT itterations of this vary, and there’s no real saying which exact respective “silent ven diagram” they’re using, but as if a triple circle overlapped with Mind, Body, Spirit with the balance we as humans know at the core. Removing a rung of this strips out major overlap of function.

The inner spirit, insight, will and memory reaching from spirit/mind to body by WAY of the soul, for the spirit to engage the human senses within the constructed universe

CASTIEL

Well, perhaps I’ve been down here with them for too long. There’s seemingly nothing but chaos. But not all bad comes from it. Art. Hope. Love. Dreams.

HANNAH

But t-those are human things.

CASTIEL

Yes.

To fully understand this chart, I again point to (as earlier in this post) this previous post about primordials, explaining the chain (x), Anima Animus and the Shadow (x) and also its association with the paths on way to enlightenment at the source of creation which is explored, for a particular path, right here (x)

Just another way to stack out this chart, including the adventure of Anima and Animus, as well as the id/ego/superego I’ll discuss soon; However, you can see the literal concept is the same. There’s an inner mind, a central essence of the inner court that reflects close to the aspects of Humanity Cas told Hannah, and then the “living room” of the body, and the senses. Same deal. Again, "I'm the cage."

You see a running theme here?

The Soul is essentially commonly received as a vehicle between the higher mind and the body (as well as possessing aspects of our emotion, and sense of self, such as how Sam lost parts of himself without his soul) That, without which, we are lacking various critical anchors of the human experience that we often see lacking in angels.

This therein raises the challenge, “But Soulless Sam was ALL ABOUT the sex.”

That’s where species difference comes in.

We’ll talk psychology a bit, wherein we have the psychological variances of id, ego and superego rather than just body-soul-mind/spirit. They essentially perform the same functions (base instinct drive, early personality function, learned and refined function with choices etc, to boil it down to super-simplistics).

“According to this Freudian model of the psyche, the id is the set of uncoordinated instinctual trends; the super-ego plays the critical and moralizing role; and the ego is the organized, realistic part that mediates between the desires of the id and the super-ego.” – Freud, Sigmund. The Standard Edition of the Complete Psychological Works of Sigmund Freud. Vol. XIX. Translated from the German under the General Editorship of James Strachey. In collaboration with Anna Freud. Assisted by Alix Strachey and Alan Tyson, Vintage, 1999. [Reprint.] ISBN 0-09-929622-5

A Sam with no soul has his base species survival instinct but his acting mind. A Cas with no soul has HIS base species survival instinct (in lack of sexual reproduction as much as potential learned appreciation under the above spoken methods) for an id, if any, and a curiously arranged body until other elements come into play. The ego and superego, such as the application of a soul, leaves room for the gradual inclusion of preferences to anything within this model, such as angels developing their own ORIENTATION once having a vehicle by which to come through.

There’s a few other points to notice about the transition. The Mind/Spirit is capable of questions and doubts, or faith. “I’m not a hammer, as you call it; I have questions, I have doubts.” - S4 Castiel.

The mind is capable to think and to reason, but complex emotions are a challenge to it without a soul, which also filters our thoughts and memories from upper mind into the body, wherein we gain connectivity to the physical senses and the realm we experience.

But the universe -- the wavelengths of intent that make it function -- simply can not experience itself, any more than any other code running on your computer can experience itself. It is you, the human, that experiences the results of that code, and views and understands it and reaches out to aspects of life through it. Grace, should all things be made by it and through Chuck, as the thing that creates this code/intent of angels -- it simply is, and runs, and functions.

So BACK TO THE HUMANIZATION OF ANGELS,

Castiel has humanized or near-humanized three times and we're pending on a fourth. Briefly in the hospital, he was braindead (lacking Jimmy’s brain function, but instead having his own mind) while his heart remained pumping, meaning the body/vessel was alive, but the remaining grace WAS in fact functioning in place of a mind.

CASTIEL 5.21 I just woke up here. The doctors were fairly surprised. They thought I was brain-dead. (…) CASTIEL You could say my batteries are – are drained. DEAN What do you mean? You’re out of angel mojo? CASTIEL I’m saying that I am thirsty and my head aches. I have a bug bite that itches no matter how much I scratch it, and I’m saying that I’m just incredibly… DEAN Human. Wow. Sorry.

However, it was depleted, and this is addressed in effect later on by Metatron removing grace. As grace is removed,

METATRON 8.23 And now something wonderful is going to happen, for me and for you. I want you to live this new life to the fullest. Find a wife. Make babies. And when you die and your soul comes to Heaven, find me. Tell me your story.

Now Castiel goes on to return to himself by going all cannibal and whatnot, but that’s its own story. The simple fact of it is, with the mind housed in a vessel, but the grace attached to it depleted, the body seems to generate something like, equivalent to, or equal to a human soul in its function.

Now to reflect back

2014!CASTIEL 5.04 So, in this way. We’re each a fragment of total perception—just, uh, one compartment in that dragonfly eye of group mind. Now, the key to this total, shared perception—it’s, um, it’s surprisingly physical. 2014!CASTIEL spots DEAN. 2014!CASTIEL Oh. Excuse me, ladies. I think I need to confer with our fearless leader for a minute. Why not go get washed up for the orgy? The WOMEN leave. 2014!CASTIEL You’re all so beautiful. 2014!CASTIEL stands and stretches his back, grunting. DEAN What are you, a hippie? 2014!CASTIEL I thought you’d gotten over trying to label me. (…) 2014!CASTIEL I wish I could just, uh, strap on my wings, but I’m sorry, no dice. DEAN What, are you stoned? 2014!CASTIEL Uh, generally, yeah. DEAN What happened to you? 2014!CASTIEL Life. (…) 2014!CASTIEL You want some? DEAN Amphetamines? 2014!CASTIEL It’s the perfect antidote to that absinthe. DEAN Mmm. Don’t get me wrong, Cas. I, uh. I’m happy that the stick is out of your ass, but—what’s going on—w-with the drugs and the orgies and the love-guru crap? 2014!CASTIEL laughs. DEAN What’s so funny? 2014!CASTIEL Dean, I’m not an angel anymore. DEAN What? 2014!CASTIEL Yeah, I went mortal. DEAN What do you mean? How? 2014!CASTIEL I think it had something to do with the other angels leaving. But when they bailed, my mojo just kind of— psshhew!—drained away. And now, you know, I’m practically human. I mean, Dean, I’m all but useless. Last year, broke my foot, laid up for two months. DEAN Wow. 2014!CASTIEL Yeah. DEAN So, you’re human. Well, welcome to the club. 2014!CASTIEL Thanks. Except I used to belong to a much better club. And now I’m powerless. I’m hapless, I’m hopeless. I mean, why the hell not bury myself in women and decadence, right? It’s the end, baby. That’s what decadence is for. Why not bang a few gongs before the lights go out? But then that’s, that’s just how I roll.

Now, we can try to extrapolate that it’s “all the drugs,” but drugs or not, while decadence includes MORAL decline, it also is this:

dec·a·dence ˈdekədəns/Submit noun moral or cultural decline as characterized by excessive indulgence in pleasure or luxury.

And Cas doesn’t get words wrong (unless he’s trying to make an awkward conversation starter with Dean as what’s almost a routine for them, always in idioms and never in definition). In fact, he has a very on-point vocabulary. How often does someone evoke “Insouciant”?

Calling it decadence defines this as a luxury to Castiel. The entire episode is like One Giant Exposition of the differences: being breakable, prone to decadence, bang a few gongs on the way out. Yes, it includes drugs; hell, he’s now subject to being INFLUENCED by drugs, contrary to being able to drink down the entire bar before “starting to feel something” or needing to drink the whole liquor store before the grace stopped implicitly filtering it enough for him to stagger in on Sam. At some point, Castiel decided these were ALL his coping mechanisms, but this is an adaptation of some period of humanization between late 2009 and 2014.

This could be considered a one-off of Zachariah’s manipulation or whatever if we choose to ignore Edlund saying it was a real universe, but then we get the SAME THING hitting us again in season 9, if under a different, immediate scope rather than “end result.”

9.01 CASTIEL looks at his bloody palm. CASTIEL It hurts. (…) MAN How about we get you some water, hmm? CASTIEL I, uh, I don’t drink water. (…) CASTIEL It’s okay. I don’t eat.

and

9.03 CASTIEL (Chewing on the toothpaste) I’ll be moving on tonight after work. It’s time. The MAN nods and hangs up his towel. CASTIEL Can I ask you something? MAN Sure. CASTIEL walks into one of the bathroom stalls. CASTIEL Do you ever tire of urinating? I’ll never get used to it. (…) HOMELESS MAN You’re new at this, aren’t you? CASTIEL Food… sleep, or passing gas, it’s all very strange. And it’s occurred to me that one day I’m gonna die. CASTIEL and the HOMELESS MAN just look at each other curiously. CASTIEL Well… I better try falling asleep. It’s quite a process, isn’t it? (…)

Now, we’re going to take to the raw moment of Castiel and April,

She kisses him gently on the cheek, but stays close and eventually kisses him on the lips. CASTIEL seems surprised at first but then joins in.

Cas is surprised… and then joins in. Castiel did not expect this, but falls into it of his own action. No force was implied, and the moment leading into it was all of a few seconds, rather than any persistence or insistence.

A few more bits,

APRIL So, that was okay? CASTIEL Very much so. Um… what I did, that was, uh… correct? APRIL Very much so. CASTIEL (Smiling) (…) APRIL So what happens next for you? CASTIEL More of this, I hope. They smile and start making out again.

I don’t exactly get the feeling that she’s entirely leading this situation on all by herself, to the dismay of several gatekeeper ship or sexuality stans.

More elements with regards to humanity in this episode,

CASTIEL I am really enjoying this place. Plentiful food. Good water pressure. Things I never even considered before. There really is a lot to being human, isn’t there? DEAN It ain’t all just burritos and strippers, my friend. CASTIEL Yeah. I understand what you’re saying. SAM You do? CASTIEL Yes, there’s more to humanity than survival. You… look for purpose, and you must not be defeated by anger or despair. Or hedonism, for that matter. DEAN Where does hedonism come into it? CASTIEL Well, my time with April was very educational. SAM Yeah. I mean, I would think that getting killed is something. CASTIEL And having sex. DEAN chokes on his burrito for a second. DEAN You had sex with April? SAM Yeah, that would be where the hedonism comes in.

This isn’t just Castiel talking about having sex for the first time. This is Castiel acknowledging the allure of hedonism for the first time (…not minding the timewarp of 5.04, which didn’t happen Because AU.)

And here, also 9.03, before meeting April CASTIEL is once again wandering through the noise and the people. He is trying to take everything in – he glances from a hot dog stand to a woman’s breasts to a supermarket. The whole place is noisy and crowded and confusing. He is overwhelmed.

In 9.03, among this onslaught of Castiel’s change in visual, sound, sensory, and other instinctual acknowledgment of a change in the senses (see back to the 3Fold Nature and the acquisition of a human soul), we also get Castiel rubbernecking at a woman’s chest for the first time, before encountering April; the transcript doesn’t do the moment proper justice with the pure level of focus directors and editors called to it. In fact, we get slow camera pan and a rubberneck that might as well have ended with him walking-flipping into a trashcan blindside.

With all of these stacked connotations aside, I find it difficult to interpret anything but it being installed as a yet-again evocation of a difference in function.

Episodes 1 and 3, the first two episodes Castiel is in during season 9 after losing his grace at the end of season 8, DELUGE us with a current of differences of all of his sensory faculties.

Once his state is “corrected,” (for lack of a better term - Castiel seems to yearn for his humanity back through the show) the show makes a point of showing us a reversal as applicable,

SAM What? What are you talking about? CASTIEL When I was human, you know, I had to eat constantly. It was kind of annoying. SAM Yeah, a lot of human things are pretty annoying. CASTIEL But…I enjoyed the taste of food – particularly peanut butter with grape jelly, not jam. Jam I found unsettling. SAM [sitting on the table next to CASTIEL] So, what? Now you can’t taste PB and J? CASTIEL No, I-I taste every molecule. SAM Not the sum of its parts, huh? CASTIEL It’s overwhelming. It’s disgusting. [looks longingly at the sandwich] I miss you, PB and J.

Once again, paradigm shift. What he once appreciated, amidst the VAST wash of senses they told us about, just seems… null now. Something is missing, and something is different. Again, the universe can no longer experience ITSELF.

Now, I’m going to fall back a bit to cover what would possibly be framed as an argument against all of this, but frankly builds into it,

Back in season 6, Meg was UNABASHEDLY FLIRTING WITH CASTIEL and trying to prompt him to “move some furniture around,” and, in a learned “last night on earth” move, Castiel makes a motion in 6.10

Meg grabs Castiel by the neck and kisses him, at the same time removing his sword. Castiel pushes her up against the wall and returns the kiss with interest. MEG: What was that? CASTIEL: I learned that from the pizza man.

NOTICE. LEARNED THAT.

With FORWARD PROMPTING from Meg, and existing example (porn), Castiel did in fact make a move. That is to say, “learned behaviors” and “personal orientation” beyond “species reproductive instinct”. But as made clear by April, this never led anywhere particular, never completed, and while he expressed wanting repeats with April during being human, this is the only actual example we have of it.

In short: throughout the show, Castiel finds new things and tests new things. These new things become bizarre little childlike obsessions at times even. This one… obviously a little less childlike. (clears throat) But again, this is a process of “learned motion.” (though I’m somewhat disturbed that canonically Emmanuel-Cas sees her face and is absolutely horrified at her appearance, meaning this is also not likely even by nature of physical/spiritual attraction as much as personal, almost a demisexual trait with experimental curiosity which, as an independent idea beyond “holy shit she’s a demon”, is a healthy phase.)

But by way of learned motion/acquired taste and function, we then have the question of “why doesn’t Cas repeat this if he clearly enjoyed season 9?” Well, I can name a few. We can go over the fact that Cas simply doesn’t explore social venues that make it ready. Or we can mention his seeming lack of compulsion for it which ...is a topic of this post. Or we can simply reflect to the *challenges* of hedonism and what it will, in this post, continue to implicitly adventure as the cage and trappings of the human body and experience within what we call “life”, which the human soul extends well beyond.

But it leads us to an interesting series of questions about Castiel and Dean’s seemingly changed interactions in season 12, on a subliminal level.

And no, I’m not implying they’re boning. When Dean is no longer getting strung across a variety of cosmic elements to save him directly from the crosshairs of, or from himself, we’re getting this weird vibe of gruff jealousy, bickering, and infighting. As if Castiel, settling in more among them, is channeling increased humanity. Despite being an angel in some crippled capacity still, personality traits acquired from his human period are still there, leading to believe the soul element never ENTIRELY disappeared, as much as with further ding-dang-donged up grace, we have to wonder - is this almost a sliding scale? Or can both run mutually when one doesn’t overshadow the other? The exact specifics of this mechanic would be unclear.

But all of these complexities is why I find it nearly impossible to, in my head, reduce it to the simple “well some like it and-” because I have always read an intentional base-beat of differentiation between the human and angelic experience including, but not limited to, sex.

There’s a subtle hint of some osmosis of this in what I mentioned above with Hannah. “Perhaps I’ve been with them too long.”

CASTIEL

Well, perhaps I’ve been down here with them for too long. There’s seemingly nothing but chaos. But not all bad comes from it. Art. Hope. Love. Dreams.

HANNAH

But t-those are human things.

CASTIEL

Yes.

And so why I find it impossible to just address “angel sexuality” as its own topic. This may just be my brain at work, but I don’t see all of this effort in dividing their experiences, in a show that addresses theology and concepts like the human soul, to be arbitrary and random and I just see SO much beautiful complexity IN the shift of his sexual behaviors, among other operations. It’s not just about Castiel’s sexuality, it’s about addressing the complex creatures that are humans, and what builds us at a core. Frankly, from that end, it doesn’t matter if Cas is bi, ace, straight or pan – Castiel has been human, and wants to be so again. And it, along with other things littered throughout the show, have given us great insights on the soul, or the lack thereof, and all of these beautiful building blocks.

And so to roll away from approaching sexuality so heavily, and instead ball and bundle that up as part of the human experience within the body, the reflection of the human soul, I hook again: The universe can not experience itself more than Windows OS can experience itself; it requires the essence of man to experience the result of the work of grace and by which it finds many things of itself, even within the trappings of a human life.

The fact that humans are afterwards caged elsewhere is a whole other discussion me and others have been holding in the original linked post, so let's step away from that and instead go back to the concept of, far and away beyond sexuality, what makes a soul, and how is it different from the created universe.

If we were to apply these concepts -- angels, bodies of grace, as parts of the universe and how it functions -- versus the irrevocable free will fundamental to the human soul, dividing bodies from just being roving parts of the construct like Gabriel's realms -- to our dialogue in regards to Castiel as our seeming oddball with a crack in his chassis, "And the universe came to humanity, and laid hands on humanity, and fell in love with humanity to come to know it; it abandoned its own purpose and functions due to this connection to the concept of the human soul, and began to live and dream and love as a man, rebelling against its predesigned function; and one day, the orphic child of both the universe and man looked through the eyes of the universe to first see man, and itself was born from the universe unto man, to live and learn as a man and hold its dominion of both human sovereignty and creator of grace, mastering both realms." in regards to Jack's very creation, and why he is such a huge threat to Chuck's power and control of his realm.

As a powerful creature of grace, he can take and reroute those elements without issue by authoritative command of the independent liberty of the human soul, free thinking and not just a Doctor Sexy Nurse in motion.

But the question is conversion, which we've seen in both directions, be it Castiel acquiring a human soul or Jack converting humans into angels with his command of both of these dominions. The best I could liken it to is AC/DC energy conversion. It is worth noting, however -- grace can be drained without permission, it is not tied to freedom. Humanity is the body of choice: be that humans choosing to surrender that in the name of glory and power to simply become part of universal functions, which isn't so different from choosing to burn one's own soul away in the name of spells, magic or other power; or the human spirit attached to its cage of a body and life still needing to concede and give permission to be taken BY the forces of the universe, surrendering the potential impact of their own choices within their own moving cage to what the universe would will of it.

Ironically, if you use an AC inverter to power a computer or television, the power supply in the device is converting the 120-volt alternating current into a much lower voltage direct current. The sensitive electronic circuits in these devices need low, regulated voltages to work, so you're actually converting DC to AC so it can be changed back into DC again. You can't use straight direct current without the AC to DC inverter because the device's power supply needs the AC power in order to properly step down and regulate the voltage. That is to say, in conversion parts are lost, but they can still be transmitted; so while Castiel was subject to the human experience, he still struggled with parts like dreaming. It was a young, small spark of a soul, converted from another energy form, and likely with his connection to Dean acting as the inverter.

Demons go to the empty; demons are former human souls that corrupted and lost the light that made them inherently "good." That which defines them. They have collapsed to the pressures of Chuck's universes and let their flame go out. But realistically, that's also antagonized by other human souls in hell trying to escape their own torment.

It has been seen, time and again, that the only thing that can destroy a human soul is... the human soul.

*takes a breath*

And now to explore what @curioussubjects has been saying about The Shadow as a recycling Bin of souls, which would predate the universe and even Chuck, I simply repeat this segment, to help master-off this post:

If we take the Shadow as the reflection of the collective soul, which then becomes the substantiative Prima Materia through which all things come (x), including even the potential of Chuck and Amara as manifestations of the primitive concept of masculine and feminine, light and dark as among the first thoughts in the cosmos. But in such by it all things are born, even the universe or the gods, in this proposed theory. It is the primitive self asking (per the far-above chart), first–well, WTF, why am I thinking, but after that – who are they, and then who am I, and then eventually who are you, before the end of the soul’s journey on its path is Who Art Thou, long ventured within the constructed realm to learn what it means that we even exist.

Those first thoughts then create the totemic pillars of creation by which it can explore the very meaning of existence, even if its own thoughts have made cages and trappings for itself in the expansion of infinite time, but those cages are themselves the vehicles of higher learning and experience, and without those cages, the rest is for naught.

This is the nature of the Prima Materia, the One Thing by which all comes which I linked above. If the soul and Prima Materia are synonymous, then while the universe comes by grace, then all things -- even grace -- come by way of the raw template of the collective soul, which then structures all resulting thought and experience through an infinite series of independent human experience that defines who were are, independent to ourselves, beyond the vat of primitive consciousness that binds us.

The question even comes, why not just reset time? But I am good with who I am. I am good with who you are. This isn't just a story. It's our lives. So god or no god, you go to hell.

And so the reincarnate journey of the man, through the many deaths and rebirths of Sam and Dean and lessons gained within the universe, begins to lock on to the meaning of the independent self in what it means in full, beyond the challenges sent by the creator that may very well be a reflection of our own primal thoughts, our doubts, our fears, our internalized challenges not too unlike the Shadow which again I raise, and point back to the above-linked protogenic discussion of the masculine and feminine paths: In this premise, are Chuck and Amara anything less than the Animus and Anima of humanity, should the Shadow be their forefather?

The path of alchemy, before it became pursuit of literal gold, was about self completion and sovereignty. The phases I have listed above, as well as a brief overview of Dabb's use of it, but if anyone wants a visual aide in these, check out these three videos (x) (x) (x) and remember that Chuck desperately wants them to believe that nothing Gold can stay, should it complete this path; because should man become Gold, they also become God, and he has no authority here. Because in the end, if we abandon the cages -- be it human bodies or heaven -- in here, in this headspace that is Chuck's, we're all just projections of the primitive man trying to find our independent meaning in life. So in here, we're all the same. So in here, Chuck's all talk. And Chuck's afraid, and even wounded by elements of his own creation fallen into the free hands of man.

And so to FULLY hook back, the effects of the fall --

To be detached in various tiers from the divine spheres of constructed intent, and surrendered unto man, or touched by man, or tied to man, or even converted unto man simply seems to be removing the lines of code that defines the constructed universe and instead leaves only the experience of soul, be it directly gained or by proxy. And with that comes many things -- be that the oft-discussed sexuality of angels or any of their other senses, but also their ability like Castiel to understand "complex" ideas like independent thought and function that is otherwise like "explaining poetry to fish" to his kin. I remind you of Agent Smith in the Matrix, who was essentially infected with the power of the One that completely started warping the laws of the universe and, eventually, left the universe, to become the body of man outside of the universe.

It is the universe falling into man, as man at some point seems to have fallen into the universe. And their child now waits beyond the universe, holding council with Death and the Inky Man over what to do from here.

The human experience is double-sided. By it we learn, experience, and exist; but as chuck designed the sandbox, so too did he the bodies as cages. So be that "hedonism" or anything else, these are limitations and bindings. It is not the limits themselves, as much as what we learn in facing them, that becomes who we are as people, and what meaning we bring to our own existence. And this, some angels themselves have chosen to convert and surrender themselves to, some more successfully than others, but the ultimate point between all of them is "Free Will", whether they like PBJ, sex, or good water pressure at the same time -- something that only comes from divorcing themselves from the divine spheres, when otherwise they're numb to bullets or a knife through the heart. The universe simply operates. Man experiences. The universe learns more of itself only by way of man, as man learns the universe.

There are those who fall that do not embrace humanity, but instead explore their creation. These are rogue programs, but still limited in their function. Be that angling out a line at a river, or just needling humanity as lesser ants. But these do not come to the same essence of humanity that those who choose to fall into it and truly experience it do. They still lack a great deal of motivation or purpose, as in breaking away from their programming without gaining genuine compulsion to want, to seek, to find, they find fascinations between their own strips of code that immerse themselves in, and sit, and observe, still not too unlike Anna before completely divorcing herself from her grace.

It is humanity, be it indirect or direct, that proxies the ability to experience, desire, and enjoy, and that more than anything is the nature of man and his power. It is the path of the Soul between Gevurah and Hesed; from the divine spheres descending, passive intellect and active intellect from the different pillars, and hidden higher learnings, reach by way of Spirit and Mind towards the individual self, strapped across passive and active emotion to learn the individual self. From the angle of man, in the material world, and the body as a manifestation of it, our ego, identity, and other evolutions of the mind TOWARDS the self of individuality lead from Tiferet, by path of the soul, into those emotions to climb the tree towards the divine self. Hell, I'll repost the chart so you don't have to scroll.

Castiel, the consciousness of the divine, with active spirit and mind, and intellect, descended towards the individual self within the realm of ego and super ego, and learned of them through Dean Winchester, while hedging at the sphere of emotional complexes and the identity of the self by which he chose to fall into the world and humanity, into and below and between the cross paths of the soul, and in those paths attained a soul. Dean Winchester, on the other hand, was lifted to explore the upper spheres in reverse, to understand the divine self gradually, and with time, as we now prepare to face within season 15.

Man is freedom. And some fall into it. But man can conquer the tree of his own ironic fashioning. The only absolute is what thou wills of it.

The rest is commentary.

Let there be gold. But all that is gold does not glimmer.

#supernatural #spn #meta #my meta #mine #pagan life #souls #angels #the fall #tree of life #spirit #mind #body #physical realm #hermeticism #qabbalah

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litanyoflight · 4 years

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𝓛𝓘𝓛𝓛𝓘𝓐𝓝 𝓦𝓔𝓝: dossier.

“You had a sensitive nervous system. You had an enhanced reaction to reality. You were very affectionate. You appreciated things. You appreciated them more than other people. You practically went into trances of rapture. You wanted the world to be better than it was.” – Margaret Atwood

| 𝓖𝓔𝓝𝓔𝓡𝓐𝓛

FULL NAME: Lillian Wen

PRONUNCIATION: lil-EE-un w-EN

MEANING:

L I L L I A N / from the Latin lilium – meaning lily: a symbol of innocence; purity; beauty

W E N / fr. Chinese 文 (wén) meaning "literature, culture, writing"

REASONING: In an ode to the French city of Lille where her mothers fell in love – once upon a time – the two chose the name together. Due to her maman’s belief that middle-names are for those who cannot make up their mind about the first, Lillian does not have one. Her surname is that of her biological mother, Wen Jini, who had been pregnant with Lillian when she’d found a partner in Fleur Chevalier.

ALIAS: Lavinia

NICKNAME: Lil; Lilou ( only by one Mademoiselle Katarina Du Pont ); petit fleur ( only by her Maman )

PREFERRED NAME: Lillian; Lil

BIRTH DATE: February 23rd, 1991

ZODIAC: Pisces

Pisces is a sensitive sign--both sensitive to criticism and sensitive to others' feelings. Easily touched by human suffering, at least in theory, Pisces wouldn't hurt a fly. They believe in people, are deeply hurt by compassionless human behavior, and have a hard time saying no. Harsh realities are avoided either through escapist behavior or self-delusion; but every now and again reality does raise its ugly head, and hits Pisces over the head. This is a sad time indeed. Pisces retreats into their own world, self-pitying and giving pep talks to themselves ("I will never trust again!"). Rest assured, though, that these periods are rather short-lived and even useful. Pisces seems to derive energy from their (generally short) bouts of self-pity. They come back stronger, with a spring in their step, ready to face the world again, and just as, if not more, compassionate and trusting as they were before. Some might even wonder if Pisces finds pleasure in suffering. Sometimes this is the case, but most of the time, Pisces pulls a lot of creative energy from sadness. Pisces is the poet or artist with angst, although this trait is often more apparent with Moon in Pisces.

— source

GENDER: cis female

PRONOUNS: she/her

NATIONALITY: French-Italian dual nationality

ETHNICITY: Eurasian

RELIGION: Pagan

CURRENT LOCATION: Verona, Italy

LIVING CONDITIONS: In the wake of the trial’s sentencing, Lillian could no longer stomach living in Verona. She knew she needed to heal, and she knew she could not do so in the city that was the only true home she’d ever known – so, she left to travel the world. Upon moving back to Verona in September of 2018, and after tirelessly searching for the right place, Lillian bought her first real, independent home: CORTE ROSANTICO. The villa is named as such for the large stone court at its forefront, and a sweet, Venetian wine that happens to be Lillian’s favourite. She favoured that it is nearly in the absolute middle of Verona, an airy, large residence, with a great many windows and outdoor-seating areas that open the house out to nature, so that she never feels trapped in her own home.

TITLES: Messaggero, Ambassador

| 𝓑𝓐𝓒𝓚𝓖𝓡𝓞𝓤𝓝𝓓

BIRTH PLACE:La Louviere Clinic, in Lille, France

HOMETOWN: Verona, Italy

SOCIAL CLASS: Socialite

EDUCATION LEVEL: At only nine years of age, Lillian went to the same boarding school her maman, Fleur Chevalier, once attended. There, she began and completed her primary school, and lower-secondary school education. At fourteen, she moved back to Verona and attended a Venetian institution for upper-secondary school. She remained there after sixteen, as well, choosing to specialise in human sciences as her focal area of interest. She was nineteen years old when she was accepted to and enrolled in The University of Oxford, moving to England and opting for a Bachelor’s degree in Archaeology & Anthropology. However, only a term later, with a heated debate with her maman, Lillian dropped out of university and chose not to pursue further education.

FATHER: Name unknown

MOTHERS: Wen Jini & Fleur Gisèle Chevalier

PREVIOUS RELATIONSHIPS: Lillian’s love life was torn into a BEFORE & AFTER in the wake of her assault in 2013. Before, it was mean feat to find a Lillian Wen who was not romantically entangled with one or another. She was too interested in the magic of human beings, and the intricacies of human connection, as well as a healthy sexual appetite that did not discriminate on the basis of genders, to keep herself in indulging in falling in love with a great many people. It was rare, however, for her to have committed to a person for too long. After? Lillian is engaged to Cassian Bhatt—and has no interest in romantic entanglements, no longer comfortable with physical intimacy, and uninterested altering that status.

| 𝓞𝓒𝓒𝓤𝓟𝓐𝓣𝓘𝓞𝓝 & 𝓘𝓝𝓒𝓞𝓜𝓔

PRIMARY SOURCE OF INCOME: Modelling – for the MUSE agency

SECONDARY SOURCE OF INCOME: Capulets – Messaggero

TERTIARY SOURCE(S) OF INCOME: Sponsorship-funds & paid partnerships on social media

APPROXIMATE AMOUNT PER YEAR: $51,477

CONTENT WITH THEIR JOB? In recent years, Lillian’s worldview has altered drastically. Once upon a time, modelling was a genuine interest for her, being the connoisseur of art & beauty that she is. Over time, though, it has dwindled to a thing she does. What feeds her soul is the charities she is involved with, and the initiates she works for. Those truly fulfil Lillian in a way she will not soon take for granted.

PAST JOB: Lillian’s resumé is an entertaining read, featuring internships for a legal firm and a fashion magazine, one beside the other, and a work history extending from stints in Hollywood to an impressive modelling portfolio to serving as a spokesperson for various not-for-profit organisations around the world. The only real thing is missing is what a young Lillian Wen never desired: consistency.

SPENDING HABITS: Though it would, undoubtedly, surprise a great many people to know it, Lillian did not grow up with money. She grew up, instead, having the magnitude of having it and not ingrained in her mind, and understanding both its power and its importance, as much as its lack of it. It is not often that Lillian can be seen making a frivolous purchase. That said: Lillian defines what is frivolous, and what is not, on her own. She expends on things that feed her soul, and that bring a smile to the face, either her own or another’s.

MOST VALUABLE POSSESSION: Lillian is not inclined to attach value to material possessions.

| 𝓢𝓚𝓘𝓛𝓛𝓢 & 𝓐𝓑𝓘𝓛𝓘𝓣𝓘𝓔𝓢

PHYSICAL STRENGTH: 8/10. In the wake of the assault, Lillian made it a point to throw herself into physical training, and building up endurance and strength, so that no one would physically overpower her, or make her feel helpless, ever again – not if she could help it.

OFFENCE: 5/10. At her best friend’s persistent insistence, Lillian has let Katarina Du Pont train her in offence moves that she does not often like to think about needing to employ.

DEFENCE: 10/10. Lillian’s strengths lie in defensive-combat, without a doubt. Whether it is being confronted by someone better trained for offence-moves, or someone larger than her in size, Lillian has learnt (and keeps up with lessons on how to) defend herself.

SPEED: 9/10. Every evening, unfailingly, Lillian goes for a run. She started the regimen a great many years ago, when the insomnia first began to plague her, and she finds that it relaxes her deeply.

INTELLIGENCE: 9/10. Knowledge is power, Lillian was raised to know this. She was always a precocious child, and as an adult, she is no less eager to learn. Though she’s never had much patience in losing herself in fiction, she does find herself enthralled by a good thriller or a piece of crime fiction. She leans towards biographies, most of all, and travel-books, due to a keen interest in the human condition and the greater sprawl of the universe.

ACCURACY: 6/10. Lillian does not like guns at all. Therefore: she is not a fan of pointing them, aiming, or discerning the level of precision she may or may not have.

AGILITY: 10/10. She is a woman who embodies chaotic water-bodies: she slips through your fingers, and she could hold up a ship. There is effortless fluidity ingrained in Lillian’s movements, from her gait to her fighting-style. One could easily attribute it to her profession of choice, but her mothers would be the first to inform you: she even crawled with grace.

STAMINA: 9/10. Her commitment to keeping her body strong, and enduring, keeps Lillian’s stamina perpetually in check. Whether it is hitting the gym, or engaging in a yoga session in her own backyard, it is rare for Lillian to go a day without any physical exercise. She ensures that she engages with strength-training, endurance, and flexibility-based exercises equally.

TEAMWORK: 8/10. To the core, Lillian always has been, and always will be, a people person. Around people is where she thrives most, and she is the sort to not believe in a small task or small role: she brings a 100% to the table, and encourages & includes everyone she can. She takes issue with dictatorial authority, but so long as the process is relatively democratic in nature, Lillian can roll with it.

𝓣𝓐𝓛𝓔𝓝𝓣𝓢

Interpersonal: risk-taking, mediation, problem-solving, negotiation, listening, adaptability, dependability, verbal communication, persuasion, relationship-building

Logical-mathematical: logical reasoning, critical analysis, perceptive nature, analytical thinking

Miscellaneous: poker, gardening, herbalism, sculpting, photography, cooking

𝓢𝓗𝓞𝓡𝓣𝓒𝓞𝓜𝓘𝓝𝓖𝓢

Interpersonal: difficulty being objective, issues with dictatorial authority, inherently rebellious

Logical-mathematical: indecisive, deeply uninterested in anything pertaining to numbers, adhering to time-limits

Miscellaneous: drawing, painting, solving a Rubik’s cube

LANGUAGES SPOKEN: Lillian grew up in a household that alternated between three languages: Chinese, French, and Italian. During her stint in England, she picked up English, that she has (eventually) become a fluent-speaker of over the years she has spent shuttling around the United States of America.

DRIVING: Lillian drives entirely too fast, and is not above flirting with the authorities to keep from getting a ticket.

SKATING: As a little girl—and, in all honesty, as an adult—Lillian desperately enjoys flying around on a pair of rollerskates. She likes to hold her arms out, and make bird sounds, whilst she is mostly sober.

SWIMMING: There is little in life Lillian Wen loves more than she enjoys being in water. She is an excellent swimmer with a proclivity for deep-sea diving.

INSTRUMENTS: For as long as she can remember, Lillian has been fascinated by the arts – and thus, it is not unreasonable for her to have taken a keen interest in picking up an instrument or two when she was growing up. She can play the piano, and the guitar, well enough, but she does not like to, since she is utterly aware that though she does not lack skill when it comes to the actual playing, there is no soul her playing bleeds. To play without meaning it, in Lillian’s opinion, is disrespectful. She does, however, enjoy strumming at a ukulele by a campfire now and then.

CARDS: One would be hard-pressed to find a card game that Lillian cannot excel at. She grew up hustling snooty, privileged girls out of entirely too much money over poker games in their fancy uniforms. This was not what her maman had intended for when she’d taught Lillian – or so Fleur tells her lover.

BRAIDING HAIR: Yes, and she is not above posting videos on YouTube teaching people how to twist tendrils into perplexingly elaborate ones.

TIE A TIE: Only to a headboard.

LOCK PICKING: Lillian can absolutely pick a lock, and yes, she sometimes breaks into her friends’ houses to wait for them when they aren’t at home and she’s spontaneously shown up.

| 𝓟𝓗𝓨𝓢𝓘𝓒𝓐𝓛 𝓐𝓟𝓟𝓔𝓐𝓡𝓐𝓝𝓒𝓔 & 𝓒𝓗𝓐𝓡𝓐𝓒𝓣𝓔𝓡𝓘𝓢𝓣𝓘𝓒𝓢

FACE CLAIM: Adrianne Ho

EYE COLOUR: Amber

HAIR COLOUR: Raven black

HAIR STYLE: There is no specific style that Lillian makes a habit out of adhering to. Her hair always compliments her outfit, which is always chosen extremely purposefully, based entirely on the mood she wakes up in and/or intends to manifest on a given day. It is as likely for her to let her hair loose in pitch-black, tumultuous waves as it is for her to twist it back in an elaborate hair-do.

DOMINANT HAND: Left

HEIGHT: 5′10″

WEIGHT: 54 kgs

BUILD: She is tall, lanky, long-limbed, limbre and has a predominantly athletic build with broad shoulders, small breasts, but hips that curve very nicely.

SKIN TONE: Golden, with a warm undertone

SCARS: Prone to adventures throughout her life, and an indulgent interest in adrenaline-inducing activities, Lillian has no shortage of scars on her body. There are absolutely too many in total to catalogue, though when asked, she enjoys regaling her companions with an entertaining story.

NOTABLE FEATURES: Thick, prominent eyebrows

USUAL EXPRESSION: Naturally, Lillian tends to look perpetually lost, deep in her own thoughts

CLOTHING STYLE: Lillian’s style is very modern and current, whilst also leaning more towards trend-setting than trend-following. She enjoys structured pieces, and out-of-the-box combinations of textures and items, putting effort and purpose behind every look she very carefully constructs. Her wardrobe is an obvious example of her innate artistry.

DIET: Though she does not impose any restrictions upon herself when it comes to her diet, Lillian is still a fairly healthy eater, in general. She enjoys fresh vegetables and a complex taste-palette with her meals, and she prefers to cook them herself, so she composes them and seasons her meals very conscientiously.

PHYSICAL AILMENTS: Anaemia – for which she takes iron supplements.

| 𝓟𝓢𝓨𝓒𝓗𝓞𝓛𝓞𝓖𝓨

JUNG TYPE: ENFP (Ne-Fi-Te-Si)

Perceiving Functional Axis (NeSi): Lillian is a personal who is inherently inclined towards brainstorming at random, and often aloud. She is a person who thinks openly, unafraid of keeping an open-mind and deeply uninterested in shallow-living. However, when coupled with the Si trait (i.e. introverted sensing), Lillian hinges much on gut-feeling, and premonition, though she does not allow it to lead her.

Judging Functional Axis (FiTe): She is one to navigate her personal emotions and values internally, on a largely independent basis. She very rarely goes to someone else for emotional clarity, preferring to manage her feelings on her own. Lillian is one to think for herself, while absorbing input from various mindsets, ensuring she always has more than one point-of-view when it comes to making up her mind about something. She is not one to jump to conclusions or make harsh judgements unprompted. However, once she does have an opinion, she is not one to hold back from making it definitively known either.

ENNEAGRAM TYPE: Type 7 — The Adventurer

People with an Enneagram Type 7 personality tend to be enthusiastic, adventurous, and spontaneous in their behavior. They love seeking out new experiences. They are people-oriented and enjoy pursuing new relationships. The most basic desire of the Enneagram Type 7 is to feel stimulated, engaged, and satisfied. They tend to be highly goal-oriented and may go to great lengths to seek excitement and joy from new experiences.

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Chaotic Good

TEMPERAMENT: Sanguine

ELEMENT: Water

PRIMARY INTELLIGENCE TYPE: Interpersonal

SOCIABILITY: High. Lillian is a big people person. She can have a conversation about anything with anyone.

EMOTIONAL STABILITY: As much as Lillian would like to consider herself extraordinarily emotionally stable, the truth of the matter is that she wields candidness when it comes to her trauma as a means to busy herself from having to contemplate her actual emotions. She is an exceptionally open person – to everyone, it seems, but herself, whom she cannot confront as absolutely, or easily, as she can (and does) anyone else.

ADDICTION: Lillian is a try anything once! type of gal. If something feels too good, she never let’s it go far enough to become an addiction; she knows to cut herself off when she understands something to not be good for her to engage with.

DRUG USE: Only recreationally.

ALCOHOL USE: Lillian enjoys reaching a delightful level of tipsiness, though it is rare for her to actually be drunk in public.

PRONE TO VIOLENCE? Never. People who know not how to use their minds opt for their fists, in her opinion.

| 𝓜𝓐𝓝𝓝𝓔𝓡𝓘𝓢𝓜𝓢

SPEECH STYLE: There is a buoyant quality to the way Lillian converses – as if her words float on a cloud of infinite possibility, and she urges whomever she speaks with to come along with her for a ride. She is assertive without being suffocating, and tends to speak in a mixture of different languages laced together. Whilst speaking, it is not unheard of for her to slip French into her Italian, or switch to English mid-conversation. Frankly, whichever language has the best word to relay her meaning, Lillian opts for, and elaborates when her conversation partner has a look of confusion upon their face.

ACCENT: Lillian’s accent is a chaotic mess, not unlike herself. She is extremely well-travelled an individual, for one, but she spent her childhood between France and Italy, and then spent a decent amount of time in the US. Her accent is nearly impossible to discern a clear origin from, at this point.

QUIRKS: she can never sleep with the windows closed, cannot stand hot beverages, and likes to be barefoot too often for someone with the shoe-collection she’s accumulated

HOBBIES: sculpting, gardening, travelling, cooking

HABITS: meditates first thing in the morning, takes iron supplements, keeps a dream journal

NERVOUS TICS: curls her toes when she’s extremely angry to ground herself

MOTIVATIONS: Lillian was raised to be a revolutionary, and that is exactly what she is. A revolutionary, a visionary, a maverick: her primary motivation is to spread light in a world where there is darkness, and to never be afraid to be a one-woman army. Her motivation is the greater good.

FEARS: So much of Lillian’s soul is tied up in serving the universe and what it calls for her to do. Often, she does fear losing sight of herself while she searches for the bigger picture.

POSITIVE TRAITS: kind, pragmatic, charming, humorous, empathetic, genuine

NEUTRAL TRAITS: loyal, honest, perceptive, calculating, intelligent

NEGATIVE TRAITS: deceptive, hypocritical, evasive, confrontational, indecisive

SENSE OF HUMOUR: Witty. Lillian loves a good bit of wordplay, mixed in with teasing. It isn’t often that she’s outright sarcastic.

DO THEY CURSE OFTEN? Almost never. She was raised to use her vocabulary smartly, and taught that only people who cannot express themselves intelligently resort to cursing and stomping around like neanderthals.

CATCHPHRASE: Mostly to herself, but Lillian does remind herself: “C’est la vie.”

| 𝓕𝓐𝓥𝓞𝓤𝓡𝓘𝓣𝓔𝓢

ACTIVITY: swimming

ANIMAL: cheetahs

BEVERAGE: kombucha

BOOK: she can never choose, or stick to an answer

CELEBRITY: herself

COLOUR: blue

DESIGNER: it would be like asking Lillian to name her favourite artist; she just cannot do it.

FOOD: cherries

FLOWER: dahlias

HOLIDAY: New Year’s Day

MODE OF TRANSPORTATION: helicopters

MOVIE: again: she watches too many to pick

MUSICAL ARTIST: Etta James

SCENERY: deep in the sea, where everything is alive and vivid and bursting light

SCENT: lemons

SPORT: living

WEATHER: thunderstorm weather

VACATION DESTINATION: the Caribbean

| 𝓐𝓣𝓣𝓘𝓣𝓤𝓓𝓔𝓢

GREATEST DREAM: It feels trite to phrase it, but Lillian doesn’t have a dream. She lives from moment-to-moment; she is a traveller, a wanderer, a purveyor of the arts and light and freedom. A dream is too close to a goal, and those, Lillian finds to be limiting. If she had to choose? She would say: “To never cease to grow.”

GREATEST FEAR: Not being true to herself.

MOST AT EASE WHEN: ease is a state-of-mind, in Lillian’s opinion. Therefore, it is not impossible for her to be at ease anywhere, so long as her mind permits it.

LEAST AT EASE WHEN: in physical contact with someone she has not initiated with, nor welcomes it from. Physical intimacy is a slippery slope when it comes to Lillian; this is something she grapples with all the time, and is very vocal about when it comes down to it. If she does not want to be touched, she says as much.

WORST POSSIBLE THING THAT COULD HAPPEN: To answer this question would be to tempt fate, and Lillian is just fine doing no such thing.

BIGGEST ACHIEVEMENT: Lillian turned the worst thing that has ever happened to her into something to help people with. No matter her personal trauma, she will always be proud of herself for being able to do that.

BIGGEST REGRET: Her relationship with regret is a rocky one, to be honest. Lillian does not like the idea of having regret, and yet, she confronts that she has a great many of them. Every time she did not do something as well as she could have, or said the thing she wishes she had after the fact, she sits with it, and she regrets. She believes in respecting the aura around things, and situations, and people – and every opportunity where she does not, she regrets, and remembers, and aspires to not repeat. Biggest, most, worst; these are words she does not bow down to

MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT: It is impossible to embarrass Lillian.

BIGGEST SECRET: REDATED

TOP PRIORITIES: Saving Verona, keeping her loved ones safe, doing both without compromising herself in the process

#✴ — 𝓭𝓸𝓼𝓼𝓲𝓮𝓻.#✴ — 𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓭𝔂.#{ get this truly gargantuan pile of information aWAY FROM ME... }#{ P.S. i totally stole the template from hayley sO }

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wr1t3-my-wr0ngs · 4 years

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Good Soldiers- Chapter 2/4

Remembering Yesterday’s Tomorrow (In the Here and Now), Part 4 Cont.

After hours of thinking, he has a plan. Not a good one, but this is Umbara he reminds himself, no plan is a good one, only some that have fewer casualties.

If he's honest with himself, he's not sure if this will have fewer casualties or not.

It occurs to him that he could just kill Krell (he refuses to even think of him as a General), and save everyone pain. As an idea it's extremely tempting. But if this is real — and he still has his doubts, but if it is— he needs to be smart. Can't let his uncertainty in his reality keep him from action. Otherwise, he knows he will get nowhere, knows that not being smart will get him a court-martial, or worse.

So, no. Killing Krell isn't an option, not at this point.

Getting dressed is something of an experience. He's done it hundreds of times, knows the motions by heart — almost on autopilot, which is his saving grace as he deals with the competing signals that say this is normal and this is wrong. He'd forgotten what it was like to have knees that didn't hurt with every step, forgotten how much smaller he was. Not that he has any shame over how he changed with the years, not the hair loss, or the aches, or the extra weight. He got old, was one of the few clones who did, and there's a lingering sense of guilt attached to that, but not shame.

It's with reluctance that he slips off his ring and carefully adds it to his tags around his neck. But it's for the best, he's already planning to change things, and the last thing he needs is to raise suspicion. Nor does he want to lose it in the field, where the odds of finding it in the crushing darkness of the planet are close to impossible.

For all that it's a simple band of steal, after two years of wearing it, he feels naked without it on his finger.

It's both hard and easy falling back into the role of clone captain; he catches himself at times about to say something, only to realize that what he wants to reference hasn't happened. Not yet. But at the same time, details are right there for him to grasp. Rules and battle strategies and conversations he hadn't known he had forgotten sit at the surface of his mind.

But there is nothing that can prepare him for the torrent of emotions he feels when he sees them again.

His brothers: alive and loud, cracking rude jokes and swapping the latest gossip.

Hardcase, who died on this planet doing the right thing because the right thing needed to be done.

Jesse, who inspires such a mix of emotions that Rex has to studiously not acknowledge them because once he does, he knows he won't be able to hold it together.

Dogma, headstrong and loyal, who Rex never saw again after he was taken away. Heartfelt sorrow rises when he thinks of the fate of his little brother.

Fives and Tup, and the tangled knot of guilt, pride, shame, and remorse that they illicit. Emotions he can't even look at obliquely, or they undo him. Not even to compartmentalize and examine later.

He's glad he has his bucket and the fraction of privacy it gives him. Especially as he makes his way to see Krell. He doesn't need refreshing on the orders to prep the troops, remembers having relayed them before he had fallen asleep. The clock is ticking. But he needs to know that he can trust his memory, trust in the reactions, and there is no better person to start with then Krell.

Being in the same room as the Besalisk makes his skin crawl, and the idea of showing him any inch of respect chafes. He stands at attention anyway; he has a part to play and will be damned if he makes things worse by blowing his cover.

The conversation goes down almost exactly as he remembers, with some changes. For one, it happens earlier, which means since he hasn't actually learned that they have cracked the Umbaran codes, he has to phrases the suggestion of using the Umbaran craft as a hypothetical — that he thinks they may be close to a breakthrough. The idea is met with all the disdain of the first time, the same feeling that the men aren't worth the mud on the Generals boots, and that the Captain is little better.

He's on his way out of the command center when the Besalisk offers one last parting blow.

"CT-7567, next time, I expect you to remove your helmet when speaking to a superior officer."

His teeth clench, and he forces himself to spit out an "Understood, General" in the most neutral voice he can manage without moving his jaw.

His blood boils all the way to the hanger, the knowledge that his memories (if that's what they indeed are) are reliable makes for a poor consolation to the dehumanization of being reduced to his number.

He tries to distract himself by running the plan over in his mind, but it feels too much like counting a casualty report before the end of a battle, daunting and setting himself up for heartbreak. So he switches tracks and focuses instead on just the next part in his plan: Getting his brothers on board.

Jesse, Hardcase and Fives — he is reasonably certain — will agree once they know that his goal is removing Krell from his position and stopping this massacre. Tup, he's aware, will take a little convincing, but the rookie has a solid head on his shoulders. Painfully shy at times, with a habit of letting others speak for — and over– him, but willing stand for what he believes in when push comes to shove.

The wildcard is Dogma (and even through his anger and nerves, he takes a moment to laugh to himself at comparing Dogma to a wild-anything). Loyal and honorable Dogma, who may not be as much of a rookie as Tup, but is still painfully young and so profoundly dedicated to the cause, he refuses to see the dark truth of the war.

It's a risk involving Dogma at all, and Rex wouldn't be surprised if he's reported for insubordination before the battle even starts. But the same something that told him to lean in and kiss Ahsoka on Endor, that told him it was his time to die, the instinct that told him that waking up wasn't a dream, is telling him that Dogma is important.

With no one else to bounce his idea off of, no experience in this specific situation to draw from, all he has is this gut feeling and the knowledge that last time, Dogma did what Rex couldn't and that it's not impossible to get the trooper to recognize the truth before it's too late.

He rounds the corner into the hanger and spots them. Instantly his hands tremble, and his breath shudders and the emotions associated with his brothers (so well buried by his anger at Krell that he had momentarily forgotten them) lodge themselves in his throat. He takes a second to compose himself because there is no way for him to face his brothers with his bucket on without arousing their suspicion. Pulling off his helmet and tucking it under his arm, Rex briefly lets his hand linger over the spot where his wedding ring rests against his chest, eyes closed, and centers himself, before plunging into the busy room.

He arrives a little late in the conversation, but it seems to have progressed the same without him. It's a relief and makes waiting for an opportunity to present itself easier.

"— 100 megaton yield. We won't even make it to the delta."

It Jesse who notices his arrival.

"Any news, Captain?"

Rex shakes his head.

"Afraid not. We are to proceed as planned."

Hardcase groans.

"Great, another suicide mission. The Capital is too well armed."

"Why does it seem like he has it out for clones?"

Tup punctuates his words with a wave of his wrench, addressing the group at large.

"I think you're all over reacting. Obviously, General Krell knows what he's doing."

Rex seizes his chance.

"That's what worries me."

He considers that he may have over-seized his chance because it's not just Dogma looking at him with open shock; he has everyone's attention. Hardcase looks equal parts proud and stunned, Jesse looks like he can't believe what he just heard, Tup is suddenly engrossed in the mechanics of the ship he's working on (but Rex can tell he's listening, he's holding the wrench backward and not really doing anything), and Dogma...

Dogma looks scandalized, but also curious.

Which...is better then Rex had hoped for.

Its Fives that concerns him, with his squint-eyed calculating look, like the Captain is a puzzle that he only just realized he's missing the pieces too. Concerning, because Rex knows how far this particular brother will go to chase a suspicion or put a mystery together.

If nothing else, it serves as a reminder to watch his words.

Hardcase, unsurprisingly, is the first to recover his voice.

"Care to elaborate?"

Rex opens his mouth, then hesitates, glancing around. The hanger is many things, open chief among them, and hardly the place for this conversation. There are too many people, too many ears around for his comfort — wants to smack himself for letting it happen in the open last time.

"Not here."

He leads them to the barracks, where they all settle in, exchanging glances when they think he can't see them (Fives hasn't taken his eyes of him once, and it's unnerving to be under such close scrutiny by this particular brother). Rex chooses to rest himself against the wall, crossing and uncrossing his arms before sighing deeply. Not sure how to start despite things going, so far, as planned.

"Well?" Jesse prompts.

"This is just talk, understand? If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and nothing will come of it." He's not, knows he isn't, but he's walking a fine line between plausible deniability and treason and is very aware which side his next words put him on.

Everyone nods, Dogma more to show his understanding then actual condoning of whatever is about to come out of his Captain's mouth, but Rex takes it as a good sign.

"I've had my suspicions for some time now that General Krell is no longer loyal to the Republic."

Chaos, absolute chaos, erupts as soon as the words leave his lips. He's not even sure who is saying what for a moment. Despite the pressing need for both time and discretion, he can't help the swell of fondness that rises as he takes in the scene: Hardcase's shouts that he knew it the whole time. Dogma and Fives who look to be gearing up for a fist fight, leaving Jesse and Tup torn between jumping in if need be to separate their brothers and staying out of it. Its familiar, and Rex never imagined that he would miss it.

It is also incredibly loud.

"OY!"

It would be laughable if the topic of conversation weren't so serious, with how quickly everyone settles down.

"Like I said, this is just talk."

Jesse snorts, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Big talk. What do you know?"

"I've been keeping an eye on his casualty counts, his strategies, his reports, and things don't add up."

Its a half-lie, he hadn't really heard or paid much about the General the first time, only the scuttlebutt that floated around the commanding officer's gossip network. But after Umbara, Rex had dug into the Generals history, read every report, counted every brother lost because of Krell, wondered how he could have been so blind.

"For someone who claims to be dedicated to ending the war in the name of the Republic, his strategies cost the GAR deeply in terms of both manpower and credits."

It goes without saying that the two, as far as the Republic is concerned, are essentially the same thing.

"That's what I've been saying!" Hardcase says from his bunk.

"But, " and Tup sounds horrified, looks it too. "The Generals a Jedi."

"They're still just people." Hardcase points out rather magnanimously.

From the corner of his eye, Rex can see Dogma shaking his head, eyes closed, a pained expression on his face.

He wants to go over, see how the trooper is doing because he knows what it's like to have your whole world view shaken to the core, but his attention is split as Jesse starts talking.

"So, what do we do?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Fives steps forward from where he had been leaning against the opposite wall, punctuating his words with his hands. "Krell has turned traitor and is killing brothers; we need to remove him."

Dogma shoots to his feet.

"What you're suggesting is treason."

"I'm being realistic."

The two advance on each other, voices rising with each passing second.

"You're planning a coup!"

"Against a General that knowingly sends his men out to die and undermine the entire cause of this army? Yes!"

Rex darts in, physically putting himself between the two, a hand on each man's chest.

"Fives, control yourself. Dogma, take a walk."

"Sir-"

"That's an order, Trooper!"

The air is tense as the two go eye to eye, and Rex sees the moment when Dogma realizes that the Captain isn't on his side, and for a second, Rex wonders if the trooper will listen.

"Yes, Sir."

It's spoken with more vitriol then Rex had known Dogma was capable of, hissed and quiet. Everyone watches in silence as he leaves the room, exchanging glances in shock, and looking to him for direction. Rex, suddenly drained, doesn't have the energy for a proper dismissal and vaguely waves everyone off, waits for everyone to shuffle out before burning his face in his hands.

That...could have gone better. Even so, he doesn't think Dogma will report him, but only time would tell what the fallout would bring.

He's on his way out of the barracks when he meets Fives at the door coming back in, who waits for the door to shut behind him before crossing his arms and putting on his "don't give me any karking shit" face.

The Captain's heart clenches. It was easy enough to ignore his emotions when there was more than one brother in the room. But like this, face to face with nowhere to retreat to, he can feel his mask cracking.

It must show too, because Fives goes from stern to worried, arms falling to his side.

"Are you alright, vod?"

He considers lying. Secrecy, especially in his position, is paramount. He dismisses the thought rather quickly, in part because he knows he's a horrible liar. Sure, he can pull off small parts on missions when required, but there is a very good reason he wasn't assigned to the Couricanti Guard. He can't bluff for the life of him, and not even nearly Forty years' life experience had changed that.

But it's not the only reason.

Messy, tangled emotions aside, this is Fives. One of the most loyal and trustworthy brothers he has ever had the honor to know. Who has always put his brothers first, even in the most insane and ridiculous of situations. If there is anyone, anyone, that Rex could trust with his secret and not worry about being handed over for reconditioning, it would be him.

And he is incredibly tired. Not even a full day, and the weight of his secret has eaten away at him. He hasn't felt this alone since his first days on the run from the Empire — before he had found Wolffe and Gregor — surrounded by unknowns, hunted by people he considered family (they didn't stop being his brothers just because the chips were activated, and that knowledge had only made it worse).

He exhales a shuddering breath, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, and wills himself to meet Fives gaze.

"No, I'm not."

Like that, the dam breaks and he buries his face in his hands. Distantly, he's aware of being led over to the nearest bunk and sat down, of Fives gently rubbing his back through the plastoid (it doesn't do much, but the gesture is nice). He's not sure how long he cries for, but when he's done, Fives silently hands him a rag, and he able to muster a weak smile in return.

After a moment, Fives speaks.

"Want to share?"

Rex hesitates, brain still a little foggy from crying, and mentally checks over what he can and shouldn't say.

"It's...complicated."

He tries his best, details what he can in broad strokes. The end of the war, the fact they lost, him going into hiding, joining the rebellion, his death, and waking back up. He doesn't mention the chips; it's neither the time nor the place to worry about them, and he knows the moment that Fives finds out about them, he would take on that responsibility too.

When he's done, Fives is silent for a few moments, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled and pressed against his mouth. When he does speak, he looks at the Captain.

"There's more, isn't there?"

Rex nods, and sighs.

"Yeah, a lot."

"How old were you when...?"

Fives trails off, and Rex isn't sure if it's because he doesn't want to say it or doesn't know how to phrase it kindly. But he knows what his brother is asking.

"When I died? Thirty-Nine."

His brother laughs.

"Should I start calling you Gramps?"

Rex groans, because if there is one thing he doesn't miss about the rebellion, it's that particular call sign, and gives Fives a playful shove.

"Respect your elders."

They grin at each other for a moment, but the light mood doesn't last.

"So, Krell's fallen?"

Rex nods, and Fives goes quiet once again. In the vacuum that the silence leaves, a question pushes to the front of Rex's mind. He's afraid to ask, not sure he wants to know the answer, but certain that he needs to.

"You believe me?"

"I don't know yet."

It hurts to hear, but he can't fault his brother, because he knows how crazy it sounds, and if the positions were reversed, Rex is sure he would feel much the same.

"But, " Fives continues, "I can see for myself that something isn't right with the General, and if you say that it's because he's a traitor, I believe you."

The ARC trooper squares his shoulders and looks at Rex, certainty and determination radiating off him.

"I'll follow your lead, Captain. What's the plan?"

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one-single-incendiary-moment · 4 years

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With the movement that has been going on on Instagram with #challenge accepted I’ve been doing a fair amount of thinking about queer representation and support in the arts and media community.

*Disclaimer- I know the origins of #challengeaccepted and fully support alll of the work being done in Turkey by the brave women who started the movement. Women supporting women is definitelylife or death in that country and femicide is an issue across the globe. Please take the time to research the movement and it’s impact. I support them and I am not trying to take away from that cause with this post. These are just my thoughts and dilemma’s that I have been dealing with that were prompted by seeing those posts*

The #challengeaccepted hashtag has made me think more about support in all of my communities. From the city I love on and support for local businesses to the women I know and my support for their lives and success in this world. It’s made to think most about my place in the queer community and arts community and how best to support my fellow rainbows, especially in the arts and representation.

I have been delving into more and more queer spaces during this pandemic and I have begun seeing a worrying trend when it comes to representation. Of course there are the two sides of the issue in the world at large, one side that wants to see more diverse representation, not only of queer and LGBT+ characters and stories but that of female and BIPOC stories as well; and the side that sees any bit of representation as “shoving it down their throats” and “taking away from the story to push some agenda”.

Now that second side is toxic and dangerous, but I do not, and can not, speak to them or for them about this. They are convinced of their righteousness in the situation and no amount of my reasoning or logic or calm pleading can sway them from their views. They are mad and might boycott some films or tv series but as we have seen with movies like Wonder Woman, Captain Marvel and Black Panther their boycotts and noisy who I propaganda really don’t have much of an impact on the money being made or the widespread marketing of that media.

The group of people I am having a tougher time with are two fold and both the sub groups of group A. The first are the people that are content with the representation we have. Who love seeing queer people and stories and support them but don’t see the lack of diversity in that representation as a problem.

These are the people who say things like “well, I loved pose and Will and Grace is a classic, I just want to see these stories represented for a purpose.” Many of this group are film or media critical people. They argue that their lack of support for more representation comes from a place of “wanting compelling stories” or “not seeing the point of that character being gay, it’s not like he even has a love interest. Why bring it up if it’s not relevant”.

Now this group I can find more ways to reason with. Many of them are close friends of mine, many are queer themselves and have seen themselves represented. They are tired and jaded. They have seen so many “kill your gays” story lines that when a new queer character is announced they make bets as to when they will get the ax.

And I understand that. I can be one of them sometimes. I want deep and complex stories for all of the characters I see. I want a well rounded piece of media that doesn’t use the queerness of the characters as a major plot point and some tragic back story for them, but also allows that character to talk about the boy he likes. There is a balance I want to see in media that I have only found a handful of times before.

But I want more, and convincing them that they do to usually falls down to more rep means more stories which means more good solid stories. There will always be schlock, like river dale, but everyone is schlock on that show.

The second group I have a lot more difficulty with and I still can not find a way to tell them that they are hurting themselves and causing pain and damage to many people in the industry. This group is the extra progressive ones, the ones that say snidely, “I mean it’s great that Killing Eve had a female show runner and head writer each season, but the writers room wasn’t very diverse.” Or “but Glee and Will & Grace and modern family are just characatures of the queer community, stop using queerness as a code for campy.”

Now yes, Glee wasn’t the best with rep and definitely made hundreds of missteps with its characters. But the first true conversation I had with my mother about gay people was started by her telling me Kurt Hummel was her favorite character. Santana Lopez was the first time I ever saw a woman I related to that I could also relate to their dating life. And Will Truman and Grace Adler’s relationship let me feel safe for 30 minutes a week, that I wasn’t alone in my love for Sound of Music and women.

I think it comes from the cancel culture I have had a hard time wrapping my head around. Yes, we can and must do better. We have an obligation to the world and our younger siblings in the community to give them a character or story that gives them hope, that makes them feel seen; and not just as the “campy best friend” or the “victim of homophobia” that so many portrails have given them in the past.

Our history is ever changing and it is changing faster and faster. Each year the bar for representation loves closer to equity and acceptance and genuinely honest portrails. But please don’t bash the studio that took a risk and when the percentage of female head writers in Hollywood was 2% hired a female writer and staffed her writing room with more women than men. Yes, the diversity of race and sexual orientation and background on that room needs to grow. And now they have a chance to do so.

If you are in any of these groups, what are your thoughts? Are we pushing to hard for diversity that we’re sacrificing quality and substance for representation? Are we not pushing hard enough so we are losing the opportunity to hear great stories from more diverse people? Are we great where we are? What needs to change?

#queer #queer positivity #lgbt #glee #will and grace #killing eve #film #television #media #art #community

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fringchound-a · 4 years

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The Black Forest Zone V2.x

god this took longer than expected, helloooo three weeks of compiling

Since the original lore I wrote for it is both ancient and frankly lacking in any real diversity, I figured a rewrite and redevelopment was in order, capitalizing on a lot of things I’ve developed over the last ... however long it’s been since I originally made it. A lot of things will stay the same but be added on to, and a lot of things will be changed or added. All of it will have decent explanations attached. I’m debating on making an historical timeline for it, but that’ll be in another post, I think.

So let’s get started on the tour, shall we! Further details are below the cut, and I’m sure I’ll add to them over time, and a reminder I mixed the lores from all three pieces of media so it doesn’t conform to just one.

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

The Black Forest is one of the six known Landings, also known as a Visitation Zone. Like many, it was mutated by the Landing and has become sentient on some level, encompassing all of the infamous Black Forest and some small swatches of land around it in the southwest of Germany. A few small towns have been swallowed by the sea of rapid-growing trees, but nearby cities are widely unaffected.

It is the proverbial ‘Elephant in the Room’ for the government, and they have spared no expense to keep its presence quiet. There is no news coverage about it and it has been taken out of all historical texts and maps published in the country show the area as fertile agricultural flatland instead. People heard talking about it are ‘investigated’, though they are known to disappear regardless of verdict of intent. In a futile attempt to put the Zone out of mind, a twelve-foot tall security wall made of concrete eight feet thick was erected around it, topped with rolls of razorwire and crowned with anti-climbing spikes. As expected, it does little to put the thing out of peoples’ minds, and as a result of its invitation to the illegal class known as stalkers, military presence is thick around the main or noticeable entrances and exits into and out of the Zone.

Due to its inherent personality of Quietly Active and Playful, the Black Forest has become nothing short of one of the more treacherous Zones. After mutation, it grew native trees almost overnight in massive sizes so tightly knit together that barely any sunlight can penetrate the canopy, casting it into an eternal green gloom unaffected by normal seasonal changes. It is a labyrinth of massive trunks and vast roots that change location and orientation at any given moment. A good Forest stalker can still navigate fairly decently, though extreme caution and vigilance is recommended, since there are other dangers the Forest hides than just shifting landscaping.

Originally known for being both the cradle of darker folklore [including the Grimm Brothers’ original tales] and notorious for being haunted, it is safe to say that being changed by the Landing has only made the haunting worse.

Locations of Note

The Fringes are the area around the Zone’s perimeter. They are a thin ribbon starting at the inside of the security wall to the barrier. A majority of them are flatland border-forest, sporting scrubby foliage, short bushes, and small clusters of average-sized trees. The fauna from the fringes is the most normal in the Forest, as fringeanimals are the least physically mutated of anything to come out of the Zone. The only human presence that has staked any claim to this land are bandits, and that is due to the lack of influence from the Forest itself. While stalkers use the fringes as a path between the civilized outer world and the primal inner world, it is the bandits that call the fringes ‘home’. There are no anomalies in this crucial outer ring of the Forest Zone.

The Barrier, also known as The Wooden Highways, is an eerie surreal place that encircles the inner Zone entirely after the fringes have ended. Noticeable against the flatland outer ring, this thin second ring around the Forest is composed almost entirely of truly gargantuan trees that no one remembers how they got there. Known affectionately by native stalkers as the Tree’s Cemetery, it’s surmised that this is where all trees in the Forest go to die, adding their own roots into the complex system that makes up the pathways between the fringes and the Forest Proper. No light from above can filter through, leaving the world in this thin ring in total blackness, and any artificial light is swallowed in the vastness of the space between tree trunks. The roots of these trees are large enough that a group of four or five can stand shoulder-to-shoulder across the widest portions, and high enough off the ground that the world below the roads is shrouded in mystery. This is also the last of the fringes, where the influence of the Forest begins to take hold. All that is known about the ground far below is that it is a breeding place for Fractures, and besides their occasional scurrying and mutterings, there is virtually no sound in the barrier. No other animal or mutant lives in this part of the Zone besides Fractures, and people only use it to pass back and forth. Only one anomaly has ever been encountered in the barrier and it is an imperative tool to use on the Wooden Highways; Flashbangs.

The Forest Proper is the vast tract of land within the encompassing circles around the perimeter. It too is an eerie place, eternally covered in low light due to the tight canopy up above, and where the influence of the Forest is in full effect. The trees in the Proper aren’t nearly as big as those in the barrier, but they are still overly large and alive, and have a habit of moving around at their own whim and wills. Due to the canopy, weather hardly ever penetrates in, the occasional raindrop or snowpile falling through to the forest floor when the cover above becomes too heavy or saturated to block it out. The only places the canopy opens to the sky above is over towns, hamlets, Castles, and the crags. Of the dozens of towns that used to pepper the Forest before the Landing, only three remain at the Zone’s good graces with the Forest backed up on and through them. Their original names have been lost to time, but they are known by the locals as Northtown, Central, and Southtown. Not very creative names, but descriptive and therefore easy to remember. They still exist mostly as trading and market hubs at the behest of the Zoners who live in small villages, or ‘hamlets’, across the span of the Proper. As there is little need for money, a bartering system is set up that is fairly easy to follow for those new to the economic workings of the Zone. The Forest Proper has a surprisingly diverse ecosystem for a Zone. It is home to a large variety of mutated animals and plants, both benign and hostile. Some can be found only in certain areas, while a fair few others migrate around the Zone and can be seen at nearly every corner. Several rivers and creeks run throughout the Proper, funneled through the security wall at various heavily-guarded drainage points. How water flows as it does to get from one side of the wall to the other is a wild mystery, given how the Barrier supposedly slopes down and encompasses the Zone in a bowl. Running water is attractive to many living in the Forest, and most hamlets will take up residence on a river or creek, provided there are no ruins there before. Anomalies here are widespread and plentiful, it’s advised to walk with caution.

The Inner Circle is a thin ring around the Landing Point, where the Central Anomaly formed, somewhere in the western foothills. The trees here are very close together, leaving very few to no gaps between them. It is dark and ‘blue’ in this portion of the Forest, and very quiet. No animals, mutated or not, live here, and all native stalkers tend to avoid it like the plague, if they can. The only people known to frequent this area are the Cult of the Cage, a group of fanatics that have devised a strategy to move without consequence through it. Predator Trees spawn and grow here and while small packs are known to roam the Proper, it is here where their population is highest in number. No anomaly spawns in the Circle, likely due to the proximity to the Central Anomaly, though Shades and Ghosts have been known to spawn just outside its borders.

The Central Anomaly, also known as The Tree Cage, is the place in the Forest where the Landing happened. The trees around the space all lean to one side and bow out at the center, just far enough apart to show a hint of the space between them as a lure to any brave and capable enough to navigate the Inner Circle without incident. However, on entering, the ring of trees closes with all the speed of a flytrap and stays closed for a time before opening back up. Stalkers plenty have disappeared in the Cage and as a result, no one knows what exactly it hides and protects. Rumors are plenty, but the fact is that no one actually knows and it’s very likely that no one will ever know.

The Crags is the adoring name for the mountain range around which the Forest sits. The names of it and its peaks are forgotten with the Zoners, and very few outside the Zone remember them much at all due to media blackout and historical censorship, knowing they exist purely because they tower over much of the landscape and the security wall. Central backs up against them on the western slope, and a few hamlets here and there dot the base on all sides. Trees cease to grow in abundance up the sides, dotting the mountainsides with stubborn copses of uninfluenced trees and brush. Considering the rich diversity of the Proper creeping around the crags, there is a distinct lack of it on them. The only wildlife present are Satyrs and small clusters of songbirds and ravens, and the only anomaly that has been picked up are Vortexes. Castles are frequent along the full range of the crags, though only along the lower slopes and bases, rarely above the halfway point.

Castles

Castles are a very strange phenomena in the Forest. There are ruins scattered across the Zone in various states of decay or preservation, depending on whether or not they had been found and taken care of by historians and archaeologists.

When the Landing happened, Castles became their very own thing. If it had a solid foundation still in place, it gained its own level of sentience and started to act of its own accord and whims. In a sense, they became miniature Zones, functioning within the bigger Forest. Whether or not this was a will of the Forest itself or something that happened spontaneously without influence is still undetermined.

Acting as independent Zones, Castles have their own unique personalities and rules from one to the other, none of which are controlled by the Forest in any way. All influence of the Forest disappears at the borders of a Castle’s defined foundation, whether it be the edge of a yard surrounding them or the walls of the main structure themselves. All animals and anomalies don’t intrude on them either. Even the pathways to a Castle are controlled by them, and if the road and paths are cut off, it’s best to leave it be. A complete path or road leading up to a Castle is the only way to tell if they are friendly. As Castles are their own entities, they also make up their own tests and traps, as any good Zone will do.

A Castle’s Voice is very distinct from the rest of the Forest, and Guides have said it’s really more of a dialect of the Forest’s own Voice. They sound like settling wood and stone at such immense volume that it sounds like it comes from everywhere, with the occasional mutter of both being moved. The latter is likely due to the fact that Castles are constantly building themselves up [or rebuilding, as might well be the case], and the shuffle of stone and wood is their innate ability to move materials by sheer force of will into place. The process is slow-going, but they have all the time in the world to do so.

Castles are tricky creatures, as they do not like to be intruded upon, even if friendly. They all have a condition for those looking to take shelter on or in them, and unfortunately for most, it’s only the Guides who can properly understand what that condition is at any given time. Since they have the ability to hear what the Forest is saying, Castles are hardly different to them. While Guides can technically interact with any friendly Castle, they each have one specifically linked to them that they can talk to and access without having to jump through too many traps or tricks.

There is one ruin, however, that no one is sure of, not even the Guides. An ominous black stone foundation on a rocky spire on the east slope of the crags, it looks like talons gripping the mountain, earning it the name The Dragon. It has cut its bridge off, and deeper diving into the history of the area shows no record of it anywhere, leading Guides to believe the Forest constructed it on its own. One thing they know for certain is that it is very subtly moving, spire and all, up the mountain.

Quirks

The First Rule: Greed Is Punished. Before being changed by the Landing, the Forest was at risk of deforestation. The residual emotion at the time of the Landing was distress and upset, and much of that taints the way the personality developed. She is a plentiful Zone, for better or for worse, but the reminder of being taken from with little return remains. As such, the act of Greed is punished by her, in different varying ways. Usually, the offender ends up dead on the spot, or hopelessly and purposely lost to die of exposure. Even Zoners are not exempted from this rule, and hamlets and towns that have broken it by action are simply swallowed into the deep greenery without so much of a word. Stalkers are held even further in account, as they are only allowed to carry five artifacts at a time in a trip, no more. Language while outside hamlets and towns in the Proper are slotted in with actions as well, and that is where it gets touchy. Asking permission to take something one Needs will resort in her providing for the asker, so long as Thanks is given for it. But even saying that one Wants something without appropriate trade, or simply taking things without asking, will result in punishment.

Second Rule: No Fire. As expected of anything made predominantly of wood, fire in the Barrier and Proper is strictly forbidden. Ignoring this rule doesn’t necessarily bring punishment directly to the breaker, but the resulting flailing of nearby Patrol Trees to put even the smallest flame out can end in them being unintentionally beaten to death. The only exception to this rule is in hamlets and towns under strict supervision, and of course in the influence of Castles. Campfires in the higher reaches of the crags have also resulted in no action.

Third Rule: No Real Names. The Forest’s Playful nature really shines here. Being the origin of many dark and frightening folkloric tales, it takes after the better known stories that giving your real given name to something otherworldly gives it power over you, and most of all, gives it power to hurt you. Tagnames and call-signs used in the Forest are partially due to the military being known to hunt down families of captured stalkers and mostly due to the Forest’s use of real names. The only people immune to this rule are Zoners, but they also understand the Zone on levels better than most other people traversing it and know how to avoid the events triggered by the use of birth names. While no immediate punishment comes from using real names in the influence of the Forest, consequences can come later, either from long-term exposure in the Zone or the closer to the Inner Circle one goes.

Fourth Rule: Stay Silent. Silence is key to survival. Many things in the Forest are attracted to sound, such as Predator Trees, Ritters, and Shades. Towns and hamlets are exempt of this rule and it is safe to be loud while in them. However, it is not in the vast Zone between them. The Forest has been known to waive such rules in the event of asking for necessities that require loud sounds like hunting, but stalkers from other Zones have noted that compared to the constant noise of human life in their native Zones, the Forest is eerily devoid of manmade sound. Natural ambiance is commonplace, however, and sounds like songbirds and animals and the occasional creak of trees in the wind give it some life. The Forest does not directly take any retribution for being loud, mind, but silence has its merits, like sneaking passed sleeping Predator Trees or hearing when blind Ritters come tapping along.

Fifth Rule: No Electronics. Less of a rule written by the Forest itself and more of a rule spoken between stalkers, electronics include any device that draws power continuously, usually from a battery. The radiation that made the Zone does strange and horrible things with electronics and it is not uncommon to find the unfortunate many who don’t heed the warnings twisted in the landscape with their precious devices growing out of them.

Sixth Rule: The Water Ritual. Water is drinkable in the Forest, but only those bodies used in hamlets and towns are safe from this rule. Water in uninhabited space can be dangerous, another rule written in the spirit of faerie tales. Stalkers and Zoners alike pat the surface of still bodies of water and watch the reaction to it. If the ripples act like they are supposed to and the reflection of people, animals, and landscape acts normally, the water is safe to drink or disturb. If it reacts in any way other than naturally [ie Ripples from the opposite shore from the patting, reflections look skewed or move around without reason], it is unsafe. The rule applies even to water that was deemed safe in a prior visit, as the nature of Zone water changes regularly. Not patting the water to see if it’s safe results in everything from being poisoned to being sucked into the water and disappearing. Flowing water, like rivers and creeks, can be deciphered merely watching them, staring at ripples around stones or fallen branches to determine if it’s safe to interact with.

Seventh Rule: No Straight Lines. This seems to be a rule with most Zones, as even foreign stalkers talk about it. No one is quite sure why Visitation Zones are against people walking in straight lines to their destinations. All that is agreed on is that doing so has dire consequences, between people disappearing entirely before reaching their goal or being struck with sudden fatal ailments on the way there. The Forest is known to mimic peoples’ voices to warn arrogant stalkers trying to break this rule before striking them down. It is best to take a roundabout way to get to a destination. Even if you can still see where you are trying to go from different angles, a meandering path to a new arrival point is better than a straight line.

The Voice: All Zones have a Voice, a sound used to show their presence to those in and out of it. The sound of a Voice is said to be enveloping, drowning out everything else around it when it talks. All people and creatures in a Zone can hear the sound of its Voice, and regulars and natives to a Zone can even hear it when away from it. The Forest’s Voice is the sound of creaking groaning wood. Only Zoners and Guides can actually hear the words it’s trying to use, however.

Weather Patterns: Most, if not all, Zones have volatile weather, one of very few things that are actually consistent. Whether it’s the energy of a Zone or the way the land or reality itself warps while in their space, something as simple as a cloudy day can swirl into torrential rains, and a drizzle can turn into cyclones. The Forest has a habit of taking rain and turning it into violent hail and thunderstorms that sweep across most of the western half, very rarely the eastern. The east tends to get blizzards with ice and wind, however, while the west merely gets large amounts of snow.

Zombies: Visitation zombies are a very strange breed. Closer to the classic zombie of legend, they are merely the recently dead within the influence of the Zone who, for whatever reason, come back to life with a single task in mind. Usually, the task is the last thing on their thoughts before death, and they will make their way to a location fresh in their memory while muttering this last bit of agenda. Once there, they will decay as normal before finally dying for good. Fresh zombies tend to have some semblance of language and motor function. After about a week, it all begins to degrade until they can’t speak and their reaction time slows. The military detail around the Forest has a tendency to leave zombies stumbling through the cordons well enough alone after realizing they’re zombies. It’s probably the only thing even they don’t have the will to stop.

Change: There is very little actually consistent in any Zone. Everything is subject to change, even when it seems unchangeable. In the Forest, all inhabitants -be they stalkers or Zoners- have learned that if it looks different, it probably is different. Even things like anomalies, normally regular fixtures, can change purposes without noticeably changing appearances. It’s good to keep such things in mind while traversing the Forest, and all travelers carry rocks with them in place of the usual bolts found in other Zones; since there are no gravity-based anomalies that require weight recorded, rocks are used to test the environment for changes, as well as being easy to replenish without leaving an environmental mark.

People/Factions

Zoners are the people who live in the Zone who were original to it before the Landing. They are a quaint folk who are born into the Zone and mutated by it, and have adopted a pagan lifestyle several centuries old in order to adapt to the lack of modern amenities. They worship the Zone as nothing less than a god, and it seems to work in their favor, as the Zone provides them everything they need from space to materials to workable crops at a fair trade from them. After stubbornly refusing to evacuate after the Landing, the Forest covets them so long as they maintain The First Rule. They share a special bond to their Zone and are the only ones trusted to defend it. In the rare cases of military and government involvement in the Forest, it is Zoners who are first to stand firm against them and push them back out. Although they have unsettling wide smiles and their eyes tend to glow in the dark, Zoners are very friendly toward stalkers, provided they don’t bring ill intent with them and understand the balance of The First Rule. They are a reminder that even people born from the fabric of the Forest are not exempted of the rules, assuming the ruins of arrogant hamlets and swallowed towns fail to instill the same warning.

Stalkers are a fairly universal breed from Zone to Zone. Designated as ‘daredevils’, the ones that go into the Black Forest live up to the moniker. The Forest swallows more and more of them every year, but the allure of such a dangerous temperamental Zone brings more than twice that amount to the door. Native stalkers tend to be more likely to help greenhorns to the Forest out, and veteran stalkers of other Zones pick up on the quirks of the Forest fairly easy enough to survive. It’s not uncommon to see new faces filtering in and out of the Forest, though. As a whole, stalkers are a pretty decent helpful bunch, and the majority of the clan are beloved by Zoners for their ability to bring necessary supplies they can’t ask the Forest for to them. The ones who aren’t decent live in the fringes as bandits.

Guides are a particularly special handful of stalkers who have garnered the Forest’s favor through sacrifice. Sacrifice of everything from time to sanity to their own bodies, Guides are capable of understanding their Zone on a more intimate level than the standard stalker. They are imperative to others’ ability to navigate the twisting ever-changing Forest, as they can feel changes and hear anomalies and the messages beneath the Forest’s Voice. They are also the only individuals capable of speaking to and opening Castles safely, something not even the native Zoners can do. There are two different stages to becoming a Guide. Threshold Guides have given enough to hear the Voice’s message as well as the thrumming pressure of anomalies. Fledged Guides, or simply just Guides, are properly ordained by the Forest into its embrace, usually given a gift/mutations to better serve their Zone. As expected, Guides are not very common. For the sheer volume of the Forest, there are only nine ordained Guides and one Threshold to date.

Bandits are a fixture in almost every Zone nowadays and are generally the same, greedy little opportunists who like to reap the rewards of others. The bandits of the Black Forest have gotten smart about it, bypassing The First Rule of Forest life by staying on the fringes. Since the central influence of the Forest doesn’t reach into the fringes as much, bandits regularly exploit the lack of punishment. To any proficient stalker of the area, they are fairly easy to avoid. Despite their disregard of the coveted First Rule, bandits in the Forest maintain a sense of loyalty and duty to their gangs and above that, the Zone. As the Forest doesn’t fully influence or control the fringes, it’s up to them to keep an eye out for noticeable damage and especially fire. They have been known to stomp out all ties in order to band together with stalkers in the vicinity and work to put out any fires that start. Afterwards, they return to their expected deviancy, but it is surprising to realize even they can be human sometimes.

The Cult of the Cage are a group of fanatics that aren’t seen much outside the Inner Circle. They worship whatever the Tree Cage protects, though it’s unclear if even they know what it is. It probably wouldn’t change their minds or beliefs even if they knew. The exact reasons for their worship are unclear, but it is obviously not out of greed or arrogance, as the Forest would have killed them off if that were the case. They’re known for being undetectable to all but the Forest itself, silent and quick. They don’t carry firearms, but do carry crossbows they’ve managed to silence. Unsurprisingly, they have found a toxin to use on their bolts that, if untreated, can be deadly. While their ballistics are used on the outer edges of the Inner Circle into the Proper, they are also trained in close-range combat for any fighting that might break out in the Inner Circle itself. While they are fanatical, the Cult is not in any way conscripted into protecting the Tree Cage. Individuals can still think on their own away from their brethren and outside shared rituals and prayers, share little in common with each other otherwise. A few of their numbers have been spotted recently wandering the Forest Proper, and given their uncharacteristic politeness, are assumed to be missionaries to their religious cause. The Cult is held in suspicious regards but so long as a member doesn’t start a fight, those who wander from the Inner Circle are generally left alone.

Fauna and Flora

Fauna

Fringeanimals are among the least physically mutated animals in the Forest. They are typically domesticated dogs and feral cats who were born in the fringes, though there are reports of local fauna like foxes and rabbits that also slot into this category. While they are born in the fringes, they are not trapped on the fringes; seeing fringeanimals in the Forest Proper is not uncommon at all, and they make their homes in hamlets and towns, where they are regularly spoiled and treated like one might a common pet. They don’t seem to mind this, at all. Fringeanimals are best known for their friendliness to non-hostile peoples, willing to jump in to defend trapped people or lead them to a safe spot. They are also known for being incredibly intelligent to the point of sapience, and it’s not uncommon to hear them responding in a conversation, capable of picking up on and learning multiple languages at once. While they don’t speak human languages, they still use their own vocalizations and body language to interact. They are also born with a deep-rooted connection to the Forest and can tell when things change or shift, making them invaluable companions to those in and out of the Forest. It’s a common practice for stalkers and Zoners to leave an area if a fingeanimal is trying to warn them away from it.

Livestock has been widely unchanged physically. Only found in hamlets and towns, the familiar shapes of native cow breeds, chickens, pigs, sheep, and the occasional goat are a welcome reprieve from the weirdness of the majority of the Forest’s wildlife. Zoners use them for everything from food to farmwork, and while a few of the animals may accidentally mutate physically in a generation, the only constant mutation they seem to have is the ability to over-produce milk, eggs, and wool. It only works in this way, and slaughtering an animal for food does not yield more meat.

Songbirds don’t look like they have any physical mutations on first glance, small and fluttery as their brethren outside the Zone are. They live primarily in the crags, having moved back into the area after the initial violent changes at the start of the Zone settled, and they are never seen in the Forest Proper. However, they can still be heard down in the Proper, and that is because they have an innate ability to warp and amplify their own soundwaves to be heard for miles. Like all songbirds, they are skittish around larger animals and can be seen fluttering around their mountainous home when disturbed.

Ravens are another bird that moved back into the Zone after fleeing it during the first changes. They have mutated just slightly, gaining another set of eyes and serrated beaks with a disturbingly human-like cackle as a call. Their main population is in the crags, but they have been seen further into the foothills on all sides. They are also non-hostile to people and animals, known for hanging around and begging food from humans when not snuffling around on their own, not unlike standard corvids outside of their Zone.

Owls are perhaps the only documented bird that lives in the Forest Proper as well as in the crags. They don’t look much different than their normal counterparts from the ground, since they live in the branches high above the shifting forest floor, but distance tricks perception. Owls are immense in size, standing at ten feet tall with wingspans that can grow to fifty or more feet. Their mutation gives them the sheer size to capture cherubs, their main prey, and carry them off to be eaten. Despite their gigantism, they seem to be smart enough to dislike the idea of eating or the taste of humans and will generally avoid and observe them from their lofty homes. Even if they are non-hostile, humans and fringeanimals will try to stay well out of their way and hunting parties will abandon cherub herds if owls are present.

Cherubs used to be deer. In some ways, they still maintain the original mannerisms as skittish herbivores that travel in herds. They’ve grown to stand close to nine feet tall at their shoulders, colored various shades of white and off-white with massive iridescent eyes. Their build has changed drastically, with prominent rib structure leading into naturally caved stomachs, long spindly legs, and long slender necks topped with thin pointed heads. Their antlers have changed orientation and make-up, from bone to a weird mushroom-like tuber. It grows along their backbone in shoots and across their shoulders in intricate coral-like fans, the tips displaying multiple colors that fade to white or cream near the base. Every part of a cherub is edible, save for the bones within the body itself, and one cherub can feed a group of six for the better part of a week or two. They are one of two of the only animals the Forest grants permission to hunt, and the only animal it sends to be hunted when a request for Needing food is made, as long as only what is needed is taken and no more. Their name derives from the fact that cherubs are the only known animal in the Forest that is immune to Silver Thread, which can grow across their fans and glitter in light, giving the illusion of wings. Hunters typically avoid those with it growing on them, since Silver Thread can kill anything else in short amounts of time.

Fractals were foxes once. So named for their ability to change outlines and shape in swirling clouds of multi-colored matter, they also pose no threat to humans. They have a tendency to float in the general direction of anomalies and artifacts, occasionally resuming their original forms as small foxes. They don’t seem to have any corporeal form, which lets them float through objects, animals, and people. When they do so, it’s said that they ‘feel like what white static sounds like’.

Bounders live in trees. Their disproportionately large hindquarters are the only things left from their previous rabbit forms, and the actual animal is only about knee-height on an average human at their biggest. Their front legs sport claws on their toes with protowings along the undersides of their arms, and their tails are long with tufts of feathers at the tip. Although they’re relatively harmless herbivores, bounders have been known to cause deep gouges in anything that provokes them. Despite their defense, they are a favorite snack of many of the Forest’s inhabitants.

Satyrs were goats at one point and to some extent, still sort of are. Although their warped squished faces have grown eerily humanoid and their bodies are disturbingly primate-like, they share no genetic background with either. Their eyes are large and have the square pupils that denote them as goats, along with the telltale horns curving back on their heads around the base of their leaf-shaped ears. As expected, they like to headbutt things, provoked or not. Their bodies look remarkably like long-limbed primates of some sort, their arms and legs ending in four-toed feet and hands. They stand at the height of an average human and can walk hunched but upright on their legs, or on all fours without any trouble. They can scale cliffs, unstable rockfaces, and trees without much thought or issue. Which is good, since they live primarily in the crags and bound and swing across the more treacherous terrain higher up to reach their primary food sources. Satyrs are neutral animals, though at times their goaty nature makes it feel like they’re vindictive or doing things solely for their own entertainment. This is not the case, even though stalkers and Zoners have both returned with welts from being headbutt by them.

Fractures are one of two human mutants in the Forest. The lesser of the evils, the first populations of them were turned from Zoners who angered the Forest in its earlier years. Their villages and towns were swallowed and remain as crumbling ruins in the depths of the Zone, and the people were transformed into Fractures. Since then, Fracture nests are fairly common and they are the only living thing to inhabit the Barrier. Fractures walk primarily on all fours, with an elongated curved spine and excruciatingly long limbs. One arm is twice as long as the other, the fingers tipped with large hooked claws. Fractures are relatively skittish and if they see anything from far off that might be a threat to them, they will turn tail and gallop back toward their nests. They will attack if something is too close to them and they will retaliate if attacked first, usually pulling more and more of their brethren hiding in the woodwork around them to help. While they are not much of a threat by themselves, as they are a common nuisance of a mutant, they can easily overwhelm an adversary with numbers. They still retain the ability to speak, but have since lost the ability to intelligently converse. As such, they parrot phrases and words said around them and will repeat them regularly.

Fracture Eaters mutated from German horses that are native to the Black Forest region. As their name suggests, they are the only known predator of Fractures and their presence works to keep the population down. Fracture Eaters are about the size of a small horse and retain much of the original posture and build. From far away, they even look like a horse. Up close, it’s easy to notice the long snakelike tails behind them, as well as the clawed finger-like paws that replaced their hooves. Their mouths open unnaturally wide to the jaw joint, displaying rows upon rows of sharp triangular teeth that point backwards toward their throat, and their eyes have moved more toward the front of their skulls. They even issue a strange roaring noise when the hunt begins. Despite looking like a nightmare and being actively carnivorous, Fracture Eaters are very social animals with packs of their families around them and prefer the comfort of non-hostile parties. They still retain a fondness for human contact and it isn’t uncommon to be nudged by one or several until pets are given, making purring and nickering noises when paid mind. They are still able to be ridden and trainable, and several hamlets host games showing off their prowess with the creatures. Fracture Eaters generally stick to the forested areas around hamlets and towns, keeping a firm eye on the landscaping for their next meal.

Ritters are easily the most terrifying mutant in the Forest to date, as well as being the second human mutant, named after one of the more frightening folktales of the Forest’s dark past. Like Fractures, Ritters are changed after their hamlet is swallowed by the Forest as punishment for breaking The First Rule. Unlike Fractures, Ritters are rare to encounter, but they leave a lasting impression of the Forest’s anger. Ritters tower over all but owls and cherubs, standing upright at eight feet tall. They carry themselves on four spindly legs ending in three long fingers each; one for balance on the inside, two on the outside for gripping and navigation. An elongated skeletal humanoid torso is attached by its hips at the center of its legs. The head is large and sits on a swiveling long neck. There appears to be no face at first glance, a thick flap of skin covering where its eyes should be like a helmet, and hunting and feeding are the only times it opens its mouth, splitting its head from ear to ear and filled with needle teeth. Their arms are long and lanky with long delicate fingers tipped with curved claws, which they use to feel their way around. It’s the only way to tell when one is nearby, as they make a distinct rapid tapping noise against trees and rocks. They are pale in color, sickly green-grey fading to pallor. Their ‘helms’ and the tips of their extremities are a darker grey speckled with dark pine green. Being completely blind, Ritters are easy to avoid by standing perfectly still and waiting for them to pass if expected. As they only travel alone or in groups of two or three maximum, it’s easy to keep track of them. However, noise attracts them and the louder a noise is, the easier it is for them to zero in on the source. When hunting, they let off a shriek and become unexpectedly nightmarishly agile, capable of moving around the terrain with the ease of a spider. It’s harder to escape them head-on, but hiding and keeping perfectly still can cause them to pause and try to relocate their prey. If they can’t pick up its trail again, they cease the chase and continue on their way. Ritters do not wander far from the place they lived as humans. Stalkers and Zoners avoid the ruins of towns and hamlets for this reason. There are still outliers, though, so any proper Forest stalker knows to listen for tapping, no matter where they are.

Flora

Patrol Trees are massive trees that move around in the Forest Proper on their root systems. They don’t appear to have any real aim in how they move, meandering in packs. They aren’t inherently malicious, simply moving around as they will. They pay no mind to what’s in front of them, under them, or behind them, and unintentionally smash their way through animals and people on their way. Hamlets and towns are specifically guarded by the Zone, so that any migrating trees are ushered around habitation on their way through. Patrol Trees also act as guardians for human settlements, anchored around them to cover them when inclement weather comes, as well as beating their massive branches on out-of-control fires. They are also the ones who extinguish fires in the Forest itself in much the same way, pummeling them with little regard to who or what is sitting around it.

Predator Trees are also massive trees that move around the Zone using their root systems. Their intent is more sinister than the Patrol Trees, however, and their ability to hide among other trees makes them extremely dangerous to anyone and anything that lives or peruses the Forest. Predator Trees are considerably more aware of their surroundings and the potential meals in them. They will stop and change course abruptly to go after anything they deem edible, which doesn’t leave out a lot. When caught, they either pull their victims under them using their roots, or simply smash themselves down on top of them until they’ve eaten. They are attracted to loud noises and are ferocious in their pursuits. Unless beaten away by Patrol Trees in charge of guarding settlements, they have no issue entering inhabited spaces for a meal. They are viciously territorial and act in a way like a rogue guardian force of the Forest itself. They have been known to jump straight up and take out low-flying aircraft, prompting an air traffic ban over the Forest for safety. There is very little someone can do when being chased down by a Predator Tree besides run away, though knowing where you are in relation to deterrents is helpful. Using Patrol Trees is a common tactic, since they are nonplussed at being shoved and attacked and will retaliate, as well as climbing up slag piles around the crags, where the roots of the heavy monsters can’t get a good grip. Hiding in Castle courtyards helps too, provided the Castle is friendly and is told what is happening; most Castles will issue a sign they understand and unless the building is intruded on, will give asylum to those escaping the wildlife. Predator Trees originate from the Inner Circle, where they protect the Tree Cage and whatever it holds. It is there the highest number of them can be found, which makes any trek to push to the center extremely difficult, between the trees and the Cult of the Cage. It isn’t uncommon to see a Predator or two wandering the rest of the Forest, looking for an easier meal.

Whipsnaps look like the tree roots that make up much of the Forest’s floor, save for a slightly different pattern that distinguishes them as different. It’s such a subtle shift that makes this act of camouflage dangerous for greenhorns and even seasoned stalkers who don’t pay attention. Whipsnaps do not activate until disturbed, laying nestled into the weave of tree roots. They are easy to avoid if you see them, but if they’re stepped on or nudged, they react by wrapping tightly around whatever’s close and dragging them away. Once thought to be the roots of Predator Trees, it’s now known via plenty of survivors and observations of them that they attach to a bulb partially buried under the roots and ground surface. Proficient Forest stalkers and Zoners will purposely activate a root to drag them to the bulb, which surfaces to feed, in order to stab it, which will kill its network in the area. Given that whipsnaps are fairly common, it’s a losing battle but one necessary for survival.

Moss Pools are exactly as they sound, bottomless pools of moss. They’re fairly large in size and very easy to spot, since not only does the inviting vibrant green of the moss stand out against its surroundings, but tree roots will also grow around it like the sides of a pool. People not paying attention to where they’re going run the risk of falling into one, but they don’t grab or lure or really do anything other than simply exist. Sadly, no one knows where they go or even if they end up anywhere, as no one has been pulled out of one or found after falling into one.

Sleepers are unusual simply on the basis they obviously evolved from kudzu, a non-native plant in Germany, much less the Black Forest. Though the leaves are a bit larger, it looks at first glances exactly like kudzu and even appears to act like it, taking over anything in range at a fairly alarming rate. While the Forest is already actively pruning it on its own and has it relegated to ruins, it has been mutated to be a different threat to anything that breathes. Sleepers smell like mild mint, and has been attributed to the smell of wintergreen more than anything. The stronger the smell, the more damage it does, since the smell comes with a cloud of unseen spores that, when inhaled, releases a sleeping toxin after about five or ten minutes that hits suddenly and heavily and unless removed from the area, permanently. Once the victim is out, sleeper clusters in the area move to cover and consume it in order to fuel its slow assault against the Forest. They’re easy to avoid, either by sight or by smell, and easier to pass through since they don’t have the speed to take down moving entities so long as a filtering mask or respirator are in place.

Corn was an hilarious accident, as well as a good lesson in asking the Forest for something not native to the land. Although it was grown with appropriate tribute, the warped nature of the Zone caused it to gain a quasi-sentience and ability to mobilize itself, wherein it disappeared into the depths of the Forest Proper. While some hamlets and Northtown have growing corn in their farms, these are from seeds brought from outside and given blessing rather than the Forest making them as it normally does crops. Corn is startling to come across, to say the least, rustling around and running aimlessly, but overall, it’s harmless and still edible. Catching and harvesting ripe ears does not seem to hurt the stalks themselves, and they regrow their fruits fairly quickly, making them the perfect gift for any starving stalker in the Proper.

Anomalies

Flashbangs are the most common and generally useful anomaly in the Forest. They are easy to spot by the faintly glowing orb bobbing in mid-air. They occasionally drift around, but it’s slow and easy to predict some of their paths. They’re fairly easy to trigger, everything from tossing rocks at them to clapping works. Once activated, it’s best to stand a decent distance from them, as they ignite with an intense heat that burns the immediate blast area around them, making a loud bang and growing considerably brighter. Their bright white light is ideal for seeing in dark places and makes them necessary especially in the Barrier, where normal light can’t penetrate, and the bang is loud enough to activate any other flashbangs in the area. They stay lit for about fifteen minutes before dimming to nothing and recharging for five minutes. Only when the glowing sphere returns can they be reactivated. Flashbangs are the most common anomaly in the Zone known to change, as well, and has a pretty obvious tell on whether or not it’s a flashbang or simply looks like one at a glance. The glow on a standard flashbang has a hint of pale blue to it, while mutated flashbangs are a different shade of blue or a different color or lack a color altogether. The effects differ from mutation to mutation, and the only way to tell what it’s actually doing is to throw a rock at it and activate it from a safe distance.

Quicksands are not so easy to spot. Perfectly circular pools of what looks like bare soil is the tell, and they’re known for sucking in limbs that interact with them with such ferocity, it would take nothing short of amputation on the spot to be free of one. The pressure created on the inside of the tube that makes up a quicksand anomaly can suffocate a victim and potentially crush them. Quicksands are useful in their own way, and all long-term inhabitants of the Zone will use them for trash cans or garbage disposals. Since they’re activated by touch, all it takes is a rock in the middle to set one off and once it’s done sucking the rock down into its sandy depths, the ground solidifies while it recharges for ten minutes.

Vortexes are the resident teleporters. They are distinguishable by the distinctly warped spiral in reality and also one of the rarer anomalies. The outcome is randomized and no two end locations are the same place twice, popping users out either in the Forest or even out of it. While not harmful to stalkers trying to use them to get around easier, they can cause nausea and dizziness for a short time to greenhorn users. They take fifteen minutes to recharge.

Faerie Doors/Circles are a rather infamous Forest exclusive, another throwback to its deep folkloric history. Like in stories, faerie doors and circles teleport the unwitting victim walking through or into them to an alternate parallel existence where they are the only ones inhabiting the space, trapped in endless forest with no other civilization. They are seemingly-unnatural arches made with branches [Doors] or circles of mushrooms, flowers, or misplaced saplings on the ground [Circles] that appear randomly in front of a traveler. Throwing rocks at them does not activate them, as only a human body going through them can, and the disappear when someone walks through them. If not engaged, they disappear and reappear in a different place. They are easy to avoid, simply moving carefully around them and continuing on. Most deaths caused by doors and circles are less the phenomena themselves and more of a different Forest hazard trying to avoid them.

Silver Thread, or Platinum Thread in some regions, is a caustic nearly-invisible fiber that grows in strange places. The dim light catching its fine existence causes it to glint like pale precious metals, thus earning it its name. Despite its delicate appearance, silver thread is deadly to the touch. It has been known to penetrate clothing and safety suits somehow and causes sudden organ failure as well as rapid-growth cancer cells. It’s hard to avoid and due to the inability to handle it, causes stalkers and Zoners to take wide detours. Only cherubs are immune to it, growing it across their spines and fans.

Burnt Fuzz seems to be a fixture in any Zone, clinging to metal and wood alike and slowly eating away at them. Except in this case, when it feeds both Patrol and Predator Trees, what devour it gladly and with extreme prejudice; while it’s a commonly-shared phenomena, the Trees’ diet have made it much more manageable in the Forest. As with all variations of burnt fuzz, it burns to the touch and drapes over anything it can find.

Ghosts, Orbs, or Will’o’Wisps are so-named because of Zoner belief that the balls of floating light are the dead souls of those who were lost to the trees. They have no actual sentience, meandering aimlessly through the Forest Proper and are easy to avoid if spotted first. When interacted with, they envelop their victim in a sense of warmth and comfort, playing good memories or writing pleasant stories to keep them in a stupor until they die of exposure. It’s easy to pull a victim out of one’s influence, and they will regain their senses fairly quickly, depending on how long they were hypnotized. There are rare cases where a rescued victim will seek out and return to the world crafted for them.

Shades are another delve into the Forest’s favorite faerie stories and as such, shades are the most terrifying ‘anomaly’ encountered to date, being almost entirely independent of the Forest outside creation. They only inhabit the fringes and interior of the Inner Circle and are one of many things in the Forest attracted to sound. The rule concerning using call-signs only and disregarding real names were based almost entirely on shades’ existence, as they are a product of the Forest attempting to wheedle names out in order to get into peoples’ heads. Encountering a shade is encountering a figure from the victim’s life, good or bad, demanding their real name. It’s strongly advised to never give in, no matter what sort of tactics it resorts to in order to get what it wants until it gives up and goes away for the time being. There is no other way to activate a shade outside attracting it to you, and there is no cool-down period for this particular anomaly.

Artifacts

Artifacts in a Visitation Zone are essentially refuse left by the visiting aliens after the Landing. All of their uses are as of yet unknown to humans, but they are the reason Visitation Stalkers exist as a whole; collectors pay good money for whole artifacts and the temptation is great. Artifacts in the Forest hardly differ from those Visitation Zones’ hauls anywhere else in the world, save for one. They call it the Screw, on account that it looks like the pointed threaded tip of a construction screw. Sometimes, the grooves between the threads gives off a faint glow, but other than a glorified nightlight, its actual uses are as much a mystery as all the other artifacts pulled out of Visitation Zones. It fetches a fairly high price among scientific communities, but since it’s a common artifact to the region, local collectors won’t pay much for it. It’s better to peddle it to foreign ones.

#Roadside Picnic #S.T.A.L.K.E.R.#stalker oc #Black Forest Developments #i'd been developing this one in snippets over the last few years; figured i should finally compile the damned thing together #it took three weeks to get it all together and im sure i missed bits and pieces #i'll either add them later or make new posts for them; i put the main details under a readmore for a reason

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painted-cherries · 5 years

Text

lingering

pairing: mark tuan x reader

warnings: mention of a gun and drugs, but no use and no death or shooting.

genre: fluff, slight angst but purely for the sake of plot I swear

words: 2.4k +

request: “ Can I have mark tuan soulmate au where he's a workaholic cop,and doesn't believe in soulmates, but then falls for her when he sees her? Please and thank you. Hope this makes sense :) “

a/n: yes! I am a fool for a good soulmate prompt, especially with Mark, he has the perfect image for this. I may or may not have projected my love for B99 in this fic as well... I am still accepting requests! You can drop one in my inbox if you click here.

March had passed, spitting out the few last cold fronts and mini snowfalls it could before April would take its place. Spring was on the verge of spilling to full bloom; what better time to find your soulmate than when the earth is renewing herself with luscious evergreen and flowers? The search for one;s soulmate is always random, but typically when someone would least expect it. There had been stories of people finding their respective partner in little moments like needing to borrow change in line at the cafe, or even sharing a seat on the bus. Every situation was very unique to each couple, and it was hard to anticipate when or where they’ll meet- sometimes in not very graceful situations. Spring time meant that there would be a plethora of new soulmates discovering each other; spring was a popular season, as well as that small period of time where fall slowly freezes into the coming winter. Many of these couples could be found around every corner and on every curb, hand-in-hand grateful to finally find comfort in someone’s arms. The soulmate system is a work of wonders for everyone right?

In the spring, Mark could be found working overtime at the station, catching up on potential hours he missed in the winter, when he had left to visit family for the holidays. He dreaded those visits, despite being able to see his family, the extended was always hounding him about not seeking out his soulmate more actively, He was well into his mid-twenties now, and was still without a girlfriend, let alone a wife. The truth was, Mark was already committed. He worked every day at the station, and not unwillingly. He practically begged other for the shifts that they didn’t want, and the chief himself had to limit him in his overtime that he worked so often. Mark Tuan was married to his job, and that’s how he preferred to live his life. His job gave him a type of natural high. Car chases, and drug busts exhilarated him. to no end. He was constantly working new cases and excelled so high that other detectives were practically begging him to assist them on their cases.

He would go on and on for hours about a new murder or robbery that was filed to anyone who would listen- if he even had time in the first place- but love was not up for discussion. He had never trusted the link between soulmates- he thought it was madness that two people could be destined to be together for the rest of their lives without knowing or choosing to be with said person from the get go. He didn’t believe in predetermined destinies; he had grown up on his own accord with the ideology that we create our own fates, that we choose what we do and who we love- if we want to love at all.

The controversial animosity he felt for the soulmate idea was something he would never express to anyone- not his parents-who were happily put together by through their souls- or especially his friends, whom most of them had already fallen victim to the link. He had witnessed it everywhere and anywhere, yet he still refused to believe that there was another person out there who was destined to be his forever, before they were even old enough to know what love was.

The day was young, and on this fine Monday, Mark Tuan was unsurprisingly working yet another shift at the Los Angeles Police Department. He walked with a spring in his step and clocked in. Mark’s daily routine never changed. Sometimes his hours shifted, but that was the most change he had seen since he became so invested in his work. Every day he would wake up and take a shower to wake himself up since he wasn’t naturally very upbeat in the morning. After that, he would eat exactly one bagel with as much cream cheese as he desired, and a banana as he walked out the door on his way to work. That was how he lived; he ate the same thing, combed his hair the same way, and worked the same shifts. It was monotonous, but Mark wouldn’t prefer it any other way. He didn’t need anything different because he obtained his thrill in car chases and drug busts, making arrests and receiving praise for his work.

Today he was going to follow up on a lead that he had found the day before. Recently the department had finally discovered some lower level criminals that could bring them right to the door of their most wanted: a man who ran all of the drug deals throughout LA, a man that only referred to himself as The King... Not humble or subtle. His real name was Jackson Wang, and he wasn’t even on the down low. This man flaunted his success, but his ability to slip away from the LAPD is what kept him out of a cell to this day.

Mark sat at his desk skimming through files and prepping for the endeavor; he and his partner, Jinyoung, were planning to have an undercover meeting with one of The King’s best dealers, hoping that his arrest could help them locate where every single one of Wang’s hide outs were so that he could no longer slip through the department’s fingers, or more specifically Mark’s. He had been working the case tirelessly for the past three months, and he was tired of letting him get the best of him. Today was going to be a big day, he could feel it in his bones.

He was deep into the case file when Jinyoung walked up, and sat a chocolate muffin on his desk next the open manila folder.

“Okay what time did you want to head out for the rendezvous spot?”

Mark looked up from the paperwork and tore a piece of the muffin top off and popped it into his mouth.

“Well I was thinking,” he said with a mouth full of muffin. “that maybe we should go early and scout potential spots that he could escape in case he knows it’s a set up.”

“Okay, okay. Do you want me to see if Officer Kim and his partner could provide some back up?”

Mark rolled his eyes. “No ask Sarge if he’ll cover us. Those two aren’t bad cops but this bust could really lead to a big break in our careers.”

Jinyoung let out a sigh of relief and nodded his head in agreement. Yugyeom and Bam, as he liked to be called, always managed to get on Jinyoung’s nerves. They excelled at policing minor things like busting large college parties at night shift, or giving tickets to people who jay walk downtown. This was a large scale deal that Mark didn’t have time to play around with, and Sargent Lim Jaebum would be great for the job. He was refined, and took things seriously. He helped the captain keep things in order but was still a great friend to get a drink with. He was able to appropriately set a boundry between the workplace and friendship, and Mark knew that he was reliable no matter what the circumstances.

“Okay Tuan, you ready to head out?” Jinyoung called out.

“Let’s go make an arrest fellas,” Mark replied as he excitedly stood from his chair, and walked out the door with his gun and badge in hand.

The ride there consisted of a comfortable silence, and JB followed the two in his own car. After scouting for spots that the other two could maintain in case of a chase, Jinyoung dropped Mark off a block from the empty, blocked off parking garage that they were using as a meeting point, and drove off to remain inconspicuous.

Mark took out his phone and started so scroll through meaningless social media so that he could remain undercover. He was always very hyper aware of his surroundings, as a detective should be. He thought about how warm the air was, just now realizing that the weather was finally changing. He thought about how it was practically yesterday when the weather would barely go above 50 degrees, and it hit him how quickly life was moving by. It literally hit him. Mark had the air knocked out of him when he felt himself collide with another person that was walking in the opposite direction. He landed hard on his back, and the person that caused it came tumbling down with him.

“Oh shit I am so so sorry,” the person said in a hurry. He opened his eyes to see a young woman being to scramble off of him, and stand. She offered a hand to him, and the moment he took it, he felt a warm sensation spread throughout the cavity of his chest. He could barely get a good look at her before he realized that he was minutes from being late to meeting Wang’s dealer, and took off, muttering a ‘thanks’ under his breath. The girl stood there stunned, shocked by the sudden pull towards the strange man, and confused that he hadn’t stopped to acknowledge the obvious link between them. She wasn’t sure of the reason he ran off so quickly, but she decided that if that was her soulmate then she needed to know who he was, and proceeded to follow him.

Mark couldn’t stop seeing the small glimpses of her face after he ran off. He couldn’t stop thinking about the warmth that has taken over his better judgement, even as he comes face to face with what could be his big break in busting this underground drug ring. His mind was so preoccupied that he couldn’t help but flinch when the dealer slammed the grams of coke on the table between them.

“Three grams of coke like discussed. Now where’s my payment, pretty boy?” the man spat at Mark.

“I-I have it right here just a moment,” and he pretended to fumble for his wallet. On cue he counted 5 seconds from when the man asked for money, and pulled out his PD badge exclaiming “LA PD”, just as Jinyoung busted into the building as they planned.

“Oh shit,” the guy grunted to himself, and not wanting to take an inventory loss, he grabbed the goods and started to run out what had appeared to be a blocked off exit, but opened for the man with ease.

“Jinyoung! Let JB know they’re taking the southwest exit now!” Mark said as he sprinted after the man.

This dealer had obviously been trained to avoid being caught at all costs; he was using every resource available to keep Mark four steps behind him at all times. He dumped over crates, threw things carelessly behind him, and ran up the stairs from the lower levels nearly three steps at a time. Now more than ever, Mark cursed his short legs. Once the two reached ground level, the man narrowly slipped past Jinyoung after attempting to knock him to the ground. Mark ran past his partner and was so hyper focused on the perp in front of him, he didn’t notice the woman who was approaching him, oblivious to the chase happening before her. For the second time that day, Mark Tuan landed flat on the ground alongside a mystery woman with an unforgettable gaze.

Mark blinked and could hear the sarge yell from a distance, “LET’S GO TUAN, PICK IT UP.”

He began to recollect himself from the ground, this time he was up on his feet before the girl in front of him. He offered his hand to her like she did the time before, almost like fate was trying to rewrite their meeting herself. The woman took his hand, and stood before him, brushing her disheveled hair from her face. This time around, Mark got a proper look at her face. He felt his pulse nearly pop from his veins, and his heart fell to his feet and remained there on the sidewalk, stunned. He knew in that moment that this was it, he was becoming what he would categorize as a victim to the soulmate link. But in this moment it didn’t feel like he was a victim. He felt light. There was sunshine pouring from his soul, shinning bright from the hollow behind his eyes and his rough touch on her small hand was weightless.

‘Who are you?” was all he could ask.

She felt his aura engulf her. This time he lingered long enough for her to notice his more than handsome features. His jawline was strong, tense because she knew this wasn’t an experience he had ever anticipated, especially at this timing. His features were solid and defined, almost as if he had been a model in a past life. But that didn’t matter because he was meant to be hers in this lifetime, until the sun’s light burnt out and the tides stopped crashing for the moon. She placed a hand on his face and grazed it softly, dragging her thumb over his lip ever so slightly. The silence was broken when JB’s voice claiming that he and Jinyoung had caught the dealer, rang out loud over the earpiece he wore for undercover operations such as this one.

“My name is Mark. Ask for me at the LA PD,” he said to her quickly before taking off to help his friends with the arrest.

As Mark ran, he couldn’t help but think about the woman now clearly identified as his soulmate. He was no longer worried about the countless days he would endure working to bring himself a peace of mind that he couldn’t obtain alone. He thought about the radiance in her eyes, and how even standing together made him feel something whole rather than apart and scattered. He felt her touch linger on his lip and cheek. He continued to feel her ghost touch as he handcuffed the man, and even after arriving back at the station, floating around on a high that wasn’t from booking a criminal for once. He no longer felt it lingering after he saw her waiting at the front door of the department, and walked straight up to her, pressing their lips together then and there before she could even utter a ‘hello’ to him. He pulled back and looked at her with a smile that he had never produced before.

“I’m y/n,” she said with a grin.

Mark no longer felt like a man with a blind fate, but a man who had a new blind faith in a love he didn’t know he was waiting for.

#mark tuan #mark tuan request #mark tuan imagine #mark tuan imagines #got7 #got7 imagine #park jinyoung #lim jaebum #im jaebum #mark tuan x reader

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