#and that was basically used since the 16th century

[arrgh-whatever]

Do you have any favorite sources for learning about medieval things? I just recently got into doing research of that period for my own project and it is daunting for sure and hard to pick out what is nonsense sometimes

Sure!

I don't know in what part of the Medieval Ages you're interested but will give a few sources that'll be a good start.

✸ Medieval Chronicles

Basically a medieval Wikipedia (with a pretty awful title font) which means that it won't tell you much but will be able to give some basic knowledge you can base you further research on.

✸ Advice for time traveling to medieval Europe

A very nice video with plenty of facts about Medieval Life. VERY good for worldbuilding since it tells you about Medieval Life from the perspective of you being there. (It also has a few good book recommendations in description.)

✸ Matt Easton of Schola Gladiatoria

An incredible YouTube channel with all sorts of videos about (not only) Medieval Military History.

✸ Festival of Archaeology 2020

A few amazing videos about Medieval Crafts.

✸ The Castle Builders

Documentaries about Medieval Castles.

✸ The Medieval Feast

And a documentary about Medieval Feast from the same YouTube channel.

(Note that as far as I know most of the information that we have on Medieval Recipes we have from Nobility since poor were not able to record them. So a lot of information you'll find on Medieval Eating might not be applicable to all classes.)

✸ For clothes, jewelry and decorative ornaments I usually use

"The Costume History" by Auguste Racinet

"The World of Ornament" by Auguste Racinet & Auguste Dupont-Auberville

Just like Medieval Chronicles it doesn't have a lot of detailed information on the period but points out important parts and has lots of examples.

✸ I personally don't make the world of Forest Manuscripts extremely historically accurate for the sake of storytelling.

For example I have a few smoking characters and tobacco wasn't introduced to Europe until the 16th century which is a bit later.

Before you break some rules it is important to know history but yeah breaking rules is totally fine unless it's a documentary thing!

#ask vovk

[minustwofingers]

exoplanet part 7

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used)

series masterlist (read parts 1-6 here!)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: stuck up awful rich people. mentions of: abortion (sowwy ** i can't write kids), homophobia, throwing up, general awful elitism, heavy drinking, implied minor character death, and we talk about stuff like unethical labor practices/basically slave labor. depictions of: violence, guns.

a/n: hey yall....sorry for taking literal months to write this. and sorry in advance for what you're about to read, since this is admittedly a little far removed from tlou. and i'm also sorry if this isn't what you guys are expecting—i know i made you wait a long time for this, so it was tough for me to finally get around to posting because i didn't want to disappoint anyone. also it was just sooo sad writing the last scene because i just didn't want it to end!! anywayyyy enjoy

wc: 14.6k (i know...i know...)

tags: @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl​ @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28 @sugarqueencosmos @iriswalrus @chiao1209 @lovecaraya @thatgiraffefromtlou @alwayslongingforyou @thelastofshimmer

May 16th, 2029

Welcome to AskAI! Enter your questions below and I'll try my best to answer :) 

How does Cordyceps spread?

Ophiocordyceps unilateralis is mostly commonly spread between humans by the medium of bodily fluids, though this was not always the case. In the early stages of the outbreak, most carriers were infected by the presence of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis spores in flour from a Jakartan mill. It is still unclear how the contamination occurred. 

Is saliva included in bodily fluids that carry Cordyceps?

Yes, Ophiocordyceps unilateralis can be spread through human saliva. Other bodily fluids include blood, feces, mucus, and semen.

So if someone were to kiss someone infected with Cordyceps, would that person be infected too?

Yes, because Ophiocordyceps unilateralis can be spread through human saliva. 

How long would it take before seeing symptoms?

If Ophiocordyceps unilateralis spores were to be introduced to an individual via mouth-to-mouth transmission, the approximate incubation window has been recorded to be no longer than 8 hours.

How long would it take to be detected by a standard testing device?

Our testers would detect the presence of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis within an hour after exposure. Note that this only refers to the conditions outside of Terranova. There has never been a detected case of Ophiocordyceps unilateralis in Terranova’s history. 

Thank you.

You’re welcome! Please leave feedback on the AskAI Feedback Form if you have any ideas as to how I can improve <3

One year later

“And there’s no way we can skip?” 

“You know the rules.”

Dina rolled her eyes and sighed as you two stood at the door of your parents’ penthouse, waiting to knock. “Maybe if you went and I said that I was sick or something.”

“They’d know you were lying.”

“They’d probably be happy if I missed dinner.” 

“I don’t know if happy is something they can be,” you said. You tried to make it light and joking, but it came out with the heaviness of truth. “Plus, they’re not exactly thrilled with me either.”

“Not exactly thrilled” was the understatement of the century. Ever since you’d come home with a pregnant outsider toting a gun and covered in dirt, your parents had convinced themselves that you’d somehow become corrupted over your time living outside. 

But Dina had it way worse. Your parents were so scandalized by her rugged ways and the fact that she’d gotten pregnant out of wedlock that they’d nearly fainted upon realizing you were advocating for her Terranovan citizenship. 

You both had had the good fortune of avoiding any further tense interactions with them for the last few months, but that morning you’d awoken to an email that contained an invitation to their home for dinner. It was noted that Dina had to attend.

So here you two were. Dressed in uncomfortable, stiff clothes and nervously twiddling your thumbs. 

“You’re going to be fine,” you promised Dina. It sounded like a lie. “I’ll do most of the talking, okay?”

“If you say so.” 

You rang the doorbell.

It took just a few moments before the door swung open.

“Hi Chris!” you greeted, plastering a smile on your face. 

Your family housekeeper smiled back with a neutral warmth. She looked slightly thinner than you remembered when you saw her last just a few months ago. “Hello. Miss Dina, please remember to keep your shoes on this time.” 

Dina flushed bright red. The last time she’d come over for dinner, she’d taken her shoes off and had been given a very stern lecture by your mother about how improper stockinged feet were for dinner. “Of course not, ma’am.” 

You sent her an apologetic look and stepped inside.

“Your parents are in the sitting room,” Chris told you as she took your coats. 

You thanked her.

“Why don’t they ever come up to greet us themselves?” Dina whispered to you. 

You shrugged. “No clue. They just never have. They probably don’t want to have to take a break from whatever stimulating conversation they’re having about the country club happenings.”

She snorted. All of a sudden, you were overwhelmed by a sense of gratitude for Dina and her spirit. After your family had essentially decided you were hopeless, family get-togethers had become torture. Dina was your lifeline.

As Chris had said, your parents were found lounging in the sitting room, your mother fanning herself with one hand and holding what looked to be a gin and tonic in the other, your father sitting across from her in a tastefully worn armchair. 

“Girls,” your mother greeted. Her eyes looked flinty and flat. “How good of you to come. I was worried you’d lost your way.”

It was a classic Y/L/N insult for latecomers, but it was barely a minute past 6:30. 

“The elevator wasn’t working,” you offered. “We had to take the stairs.”

“Hm. Well, come and sit. Petra can get you a drink.” 

A tall girl who couldn’t have been much younger than you was standing at the other end of the room next to the bar. She had bright ginger hair that stood out starkly against the neutral beige of her uniform and a small, squatty nose. You’d never seen her before in your life. 

“Is she new?” you asked.

“Who, Petra? Oh, I think so. It must’ve been…oh, I’m not sure. This March, I believe? What do you think, darling?”

“Around then.” The solid ice globe slid against the glass with a clink as your father answered, taking a long pull of his bourbon after. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” said Dina politely.

Your mother let out a labored sigh. “Dear, I’m very glad to see you working on manners, but there’s no need to engage with the help.”

Dina didn’t answer, instead sending you a meaningful look. 

“Well, not usually,” she continued. “Though it is appropriate to interact with them in matters that are considered strictly business. Take, for example, the fact that neither of you have managed to order a drink yet. Petra, come.”

You stared at your hands, folded tightly in your lap. If there was anything you hated more than your parents, it was how they treated the help. And, though you’d never say it out loud, you didn’t understand how two middle aged adults needed more than one full-time housekeeper on hand. Chris made sense. Petra was entirely unnecessary. 

“We really don’t need anything,” you said to Petra when she was in front of you, looking rather pale. “But thank you.” 

The tension in the air refused to dissipate, not even when you were relocated to the dining room and had the crutch of picking away at the three courses served to you. 

Dina, having been thoroughly scolded by your mother the last time she dined with her, was clinical in choosing which utensil to use for each course. 

Your mother babbled on and on about the country club and the book club. Your father occasionally butted in with a few dull, lifeless comments. There was something especially dead in his appearance, like he was running on zero sleep.

“You may be curious as to why I asked you two here today,” your mother said after the main course plates had been cleared. “First of all, I wanted to extend my congratulations to my daughter for graduating in just a few days.” 

“Thank you,” you said stiffly. 

“And more importantly—” 

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“—I wanted to announce that your father will finally be retiring,” she said. “He’s been working so hard for the last few years. Isn’t this wonderful?”

“That’s really great, Father,” you said, feigning a smile to hide your confusion. You hadn’t known that your father had even worked, much less hard enough to warrant a formal retirement. 

“Thanks, dove,” he said.

“When’s your last day?” you pried, wondering if you could manage any more information out of him. 

“This Friday.”

“Hm.” So much for that. You exchanged glances with Dina as Petra reappeared with a tray of small goblets filled with colorful globes of sorbet. 

“You’ll both be expected to be in attendance at his retirement party,” Mother added. She was frowning deeper now. 

“Even me?” said Dina.

“Yes.” She smiled tightly. “And please note that they’re unaware that we helped you through your…little problem. I can’t imagine why that would ever come up in conversation, but I would really prefer it didn’t.”

“Uh huh,” responded Dina, her eyes wide. 

When Dina had arrived, your family had given her two options—have her child and give it up for adoption, or terminate the pregnancy then and there in secret. Refusing to comply would lead to your parents being entirely unwilling to sponsor her citizenship as it was far too unseemly to be an unmarried mother. Though it was clear your parents thought she was devastated by the prospect, she’d confided in you later that she hadn’t realized that that had been an option for her. She’d taken the second option without a second thought, telling you that she didn’t feel ready to be a mother. 

The unfortunate part of it all was that your parents held this over her head on occasion, using it as leverage to make Dina feel like she owed them. Hence why she never felt entirely comfortable with telling them off. 

That your parents had kept the abortion a secret was hardly a surprise. Abortion was one of those issues that no one liked to talk about. Though it wasn’t the hardest procedure to get, it was never publicly discussed. You’d never personally known of anyone who had gotten one before, but the clinic had been so full when you’d attended with Dina nearly a year ago that you were beginning to second guess that fact. 

“Anyway,” said your mother lightly, “Darling, have you heard anything from the Thompsons recently?” 

“Oh, no. I haven’t seen Richard in quite some time.”

“It’s funny you say that. Melanie was supposed to host the Garden Club party last week, and you’ll never believe what happened.”

“What, honey?” Your father stared dully at the tablecloth, entirely unengaged. 

“When I stopped by, the rest of the girls were already there,” your mother said. “Just sitting out in front of her building looking very confused. I walked right up and asked what was going on—you know, now that I’m co-president, I need to keep things in order—”

“Yes, honey.”

“—And Angie tells me that they’ve been ringing her for ten minutes and she hasn't answered. I decided to give her a call, and straight to voicemail. So we all sat out there until it started raining. We never even got an apology text.” 

“Oh,” said your father, looking a little more engaged. “Is that really?”

“Yes,” your mother said. The attention made her sit up straighter. “It absolutely was. It was incredibly inappropriate. I couldn’t believe it. And to think that she stole that hosting spot from me…”

“Do you know if she’s alright?” your father asked,

She shrugged. “I should hope not. That’s the only excuse she could have for what happened.”

“Hm.” Your father moved the melting sorbet around without clinking his spoon to the crystal. “It seems that quite a few of us have been dropping off the face of the Earth.”

“It must be because of the long winter,” you said diplomatically. “Too much darkness makes us all a little loony.”

Your mother raised a brow and hummed in assent. “I suppose so.”

“Is that why groceries are so expensive now?” you asked. It had become a new development. About 6 months after you and Dina had returned, the prices on the shelves had rocketed upwards.

“Something like that,” your father said vaguely. 

“What does that mean?”

“Y/N,” your mother warned.

“It’s alright, dear,” your father said, waving his hand. “It’s really nothing interesting. Supplying this city has always had its challenges. This year just happens to be especially hard.”

“What kind of challenges?” pried Dina.

“Shipments are always difficult to orchestrate,” he said. “As is quality control. It’s nothing that we haven’t seen before. Prices will go back to usual within a few months. The pendulum always has to swing back.”

It was a saying he always used—the pendulum analogy.

Dessert wrapped up quickly. Your mother gave you the official date for your father’s retirement party and ironed out your graduation details, and before you knew it you and Dina were off into the night. 

“Thank fucking god that’s over,” said Dina as you two trotted down the street to the metro. 

“Tell me about it.” You zipped up your jacket to ward off the slight chill in the evening air. “I’m really sorry you had to deal with all of that. I appreciate you coming with me. I know they’re awful to you.”

“Well, they’ll be worse if I don’t go,” she responded, her eyes cloudy for a second. She was right. One misstep and they could have her citizenship and their financial sponsorship rescinded. 

“True,” you conceded. 

The metro was bustling with people as you and Dina hopped on to the yellow line that would take you to the university residences. It was modeled right after the Parisian metros, with its Art Nouveau signs and themed stops.  There was only standing room, so you two clutched onto the stainless steel poles in the middle. 

The doors made a groaning sound and a speaker crackled as the announcer came on.

“Doors closing. Please stand clear of the exits. This is an express train with service to University Park. Other stops include 25th Street and North Village. There will be no evening service to Rotingham.” 

You and Dina seemed to come to an unspoken agreement to remain silent and process the hell that had been dinner with your parents as the train lurched forward into motion. You closed your eyes and would’ve rested your head against the handrail had it not been so gross. 

The only fortunate thing about your parents was the fact that they were incredibly easy to get to, despite living on the other side of the city from the university. What would’ve normally taken 40 minutes with transfers was cut down to 15 with the use of an express train that ran right from the station outside of your apartment. 

You had resolved to just sit in silence when the train came to a screeching halt. 

Your eyes shot open, meeting Dina’s confused gaze. 

The lights above flickered, then sputtered out to leave you in darkness. 

There was a hushed silence amongst everyone in your train car. 

“What’s going on?” Dina whispered to you. 

“This happens sometimes,” you said quietly back, but it was sort of a lie. It wasn’t entirely uncommon for the lights to go out, but you’d never had it happen in tandem with a train stopping on the tracks before reaching a station. And especially not an express train…

The lights flickered on again, and there was a shared sense of relief as a few of the train’s occupants let out a shaky laugh. 

“Thought we were going to have to walk!” said a ruddy looking old man sitting across from you. The car responded with polite chuckles. 

“Apologies for the delay,” came a voice over the loudspeaker—a human voice, not an automated one. “There was a disturbance on the tracks that had to be dealt with. We apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused. Service will continue as usual.”

The train lurched back into movement, the dark walls of the tunnel moving past in a blur.

“That was weird,” Dina remarked once you two had gotten to your stop and were walking up to ground level.

“Yeah,” you said, frowning. “I didn’t want to tell you then because I didn’t want to freak you out, but normally express trains never stop, especially not at this time of night with less trains in service.”

“What qualifies as a disturbance on the tracks?”

“I have no clue,” you confessed. The sun was hovering just barely over the horizon, its last rays of light reflecting aggressively off of the skyscrapers in the distance from which you came. “Someone probably dropped something big like a suitcase onto the tracks and blocked the way. It happens.” 

You were purposefully avoiding the elephant in the room—that it had probably been a person on the tracks. It wasn’t especially common—not nearly as common as you heard it was in places like New York before the outbreak—but it happened on occasion. Terranova wasn’t the best place for everyone.

“The Thompsons are Simon’s family, right?” Dina asked you. She had to raise her voice to be heard over the cheerful chatter of fellow university students socializing and drinking on the green next to the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” you said. You and Dina had occasionally hung out with Simon since returning. You noticed that Simon had really taken a liking to Dina, but neglected to mention it since his parents were actively attempting to arrange a marriage between him and some girl in the Art History program at your school. “Have you talked to him at all? I haven’t heard from him for a week or so.”

“Me neither.” Dina tightened the dark braid that fell over her shoulder as she walked, looking rather troubled. “I didn’t realize his parents were missing.”

“They’re probably fine,” you said. “I seriously wouldn’t worry about it. There’s nothing here that could hurt them.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I just forget that there’s no infected here sometimes. Like, tonight, I thought I was gonna have to start swinging on someone in the train when the power cut.” 

“God, same.” You shivered. “It’s weird to know that we don’t have to worry about that anymore. But I think it’ll get easier with time.”

“Yeah,” said Dina, but she didn’t sound convinced. “Well, I’m going to text Simon and see if he’s alright. Or maybe call him. I’m sure he’ll know what happened.” 

“Let me know what he says.” You’d ascended the steps up to your shared apartment and were slotting the key into the keyhole. “By the way, did I ever formally invite you to my graduation?”

“Not that I recall.” Dina followed you in and kicked her shoes off.

“Well, consider this your formal invitation,” you said, turning to grin at her. “It’s this Saturday. Be there or be square.”

“Will there be free food?”

“And anything you want to drink,” you told her, though you weren’t entirely sure of that fact. You’d only ever been to one graduation in your life, and that had been years before it was socially acceptable for you to drink anything beyond the odd glass of watered down wine—but you recalled a memory of particularly free-flowing champagne flutes being passed around. 

“Consider me sold.” 

~

You had to be going crazy. There was no way. 

You entered the numbers back into the graphing software again. Then again. Then one more time, just to be sure you were seeing what you were seeing. 

“Everything going alright over there?” asked old Professor Gunther, looking up from his grading and his steaming cup of tea. 

“Um—” You blinked, hard, then looked back down at your calculations. “Professor, can you look at these for me? I think I must’ve made a mistake.”

“Of course, my dear.” He graciously accepted the notepad full of barely legible numbers that you came up to hand to him and adjusted the glasses on his face so he could squint more efficiently. “And what is this exactly?”

“I’ve been parsing through the data on that star—that K star you’d been watching for a while—and, um, I’ve noticed something.” Your voice shook nearly as much as your hand as you pointed to the scribbled numbers. “Can you, uh, graph these? And put them into a different program than StarBlast? And look at the spectra? It’s giving me what I think is—actually, I don’t know. You do it and I’ll show you what I got.” 

“I’m confused about what you could have possibly done wrong,” he said, though he was already opening his own laptop and starting up a different program that you hadn’t used before because of how much you hated the GUI. “Did you try to parse it by hand to check?”

“Yes,” you said. “Horrible idea. Took me forever.” 

“And you got the same result?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.” He took off his glasses to wipe them off, then began typing in the data you’d emailed to him earlier for bookkeeping purposes. “Let me see what I have.” 

The agonizing few minutes it took for him to enter him already had your mind spiraling with possibilities as the implications sunk in. If you were right—if this was right—everything was going to change in your field. 

The spectra graph roared to life.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard your professor say. “Is this—”

“I think so,” you said. “I think so.”

What you two were looking at held more than one piece of crucial information. The first was nothing but basic calculations of a Doppler Shift that detected that there was a planet. Your calculations estimated its size at roughly the same as the Earth, with a similar orbital period and distance from its star that placed it in the habitable zone.

That wasn’t anything earth-shattering. There were plenty of Earth-sized planets in the habitable zone, implying that if the conditions were right, there was an environment conducive to organic life. 

What was, however, were the spectra emissions that you were staring at, slack-jawed and skin prickling. 

“Methane,” you whispered. “And oxygen. And phosphine.” 

And not just a little—enough that it suggested biological processes that could only occur with the presence of life.

“I think you should finish writing this report,” Professor Gunther finally said. 

You froze. “What?” 

He turned to you, his glasses sliding down his bulbous nose and a kind smile on his face. “I’ve made enough discoveries in my life. This one is yours to claim.” 

You were overcome with so much gratitude that you launched yourself at him, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him tightly.

Gunther good-naturedly patted your back with the enthusiasm of a grandfather being pestered by his grandchildren. “This is your moment. Take it.” 

“Thank you,” you said, pulling back with tears welling up in your eyes. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” 

He smiled again. “It’s truly my pleasure. I feel lucky to have had a student like you.” 

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to start crying.”

“We can’t have that,” he said, standing up and handing you back your sheet of calculations. “You have work to do.”

You settled back into your work across from him, nearly buzzing with excitement as you finished typing up your findings. It would be a long process for the study to actually be published—long, painful, and undoubtedly draining—but it would be so worth it. You’d be the one who discovered a planet that (most likely) harbored life. For the first time in history. 

Though you wouldn’t be publishing a paper any time soon, you still had to log the planet into the “global” (not exactly global given that there was no other place on Earth with the same technology as Terranova) database. And with that meant giving it a name.

In that moment, it was like time froze as the cursor blinked in the box. There was nothing but the blood rushing in your head, the dull hum of the fluorescent lights above, and the slight stickiness of the leather desk chair beneath you. 

You gulped. It was standard in the department to name planets after the astronomer that discovered them. You’d never had a planet named after you before. You’d only ever crunched numbers that Gunther had given to you to analyze spectra emissions. This was the first time you’d ever actually discovered something that hadn’t already been logged before it had landed on your desk.

And yet…

You closed your eyes. Suddenly you were back in the meadow at Jackson, tracing the wisps of the Milky Way with your finger as you and Ellie talked about the constellations. You saw the childish excitement on her normally stern features when she held the moon rock for the first time. You saw the wonder in her eyes when you told her a new space fact that she’d never heard before. That she’d never had the opportunity to learn before. 

Your fingers moved before you could stop them, quickly tapping out the name “Ellie” into the box and hitting the enter button. 

For the rest of the day, you regretted it. You tried not to think of her anymore. It was something that you’d promised yourself you wouldn’t do after you spent the entirety of last summer miserable and doing nothing but turning over the memories in your mind until Dina made you do something with her. 

It was difficult. You wanted to put it in the past, because you couldn’t think about her without thinking about how she probably wasn’t even alive anymore. Which didn’t make any sense. Nothing ever made any sense about Ellie. Even before you predicted she’d been bitten, she’d already been behaving erratically—not packing her things, not saying a real goodbye to Joel, catching more food than their small group of three could possibly need near the end. It was like she knew that she wouldn’t be able to go.

Which didn’t make any sense, because why go all that way knowing that it was for nothing?

Which made you think about how bizarre she was before leaving. How sad she seemed when she told you that she was going, like even then she knew that it wouldn’t happen. 

And you hadn’t gotten sick from her, even though you should have. She’d kissed you long after she would’ve been bitten. And you knew from your frantic research upon arriving that you should have tested positive when Simon checked. 

So why hadn’t you? And why had she?

It was things like this that could keep you up for days if you weren’t careful. It was awful, but sometimes you liked to believe that she had really been sick and had died shortly after. You had a vision of her killing herself before fully turning, and even though it hurt to imagine it, it was the most humane end of them all. If she was dead, then maybe there was an afterlife, and maybe a piece of her was watching over you. Maybe she was still with you. Maybe she finally was able to rest. 

You hoped that little piece of her had seen her name the first planet with life after her.

A tiny smile crept across your face, but inside you felt devastated. You were going to mourn her again all day, like you always did when something reminded you of her. And you were probably going to dream of her, of her stupid grin and the way her hair felt when it tickled your face. 

Pull it together you thought glumly. You had to be normal for your father’s retirement party that night, and you had just under 4 hours to do so. 

~

“Ugh,” you said, staring at your phone as you stood with Dina near the door, both of you dolled up and ready to go to the party.

“That’s how I feel too,” said Dina. “I’m going to kill myself if anyone brings up anything about how hard my childhood must’ve been and how I’m doing such a good job adjusting one more time.”

“Ha,” you said. “Mom just texted me to tell me that we need to stop by theirs first.”

“Why? Aren’t they already at the venue?”

“Yeah,” you responded, wrinkling your nose. “But apparently she forgot her gift for him—some vintage Rolex she got restored for him.”

“A vintage what?”

“Stupidly overpriced wristwatch,” you explained. 

It took less time than usual to get to their building. Despite it being at peak busy hour, the platforms seemed eerily empty.

“Is there some holiday going on?” Dina asked, sitting across from you so that you both had your own row of seats. 

“Oh, I’m such an idiot,” you said, clapping your forehead with your hand. “Of course there is. That’s why my father held his retirement party today. It’s the first day of this festival that goes all week.”

“What’s it for?”

“I honestly don’t know the background,” you admitted. “Most people just use it as an excuse to get incredibly drunk. I think it has something to do with the founding. It’s, like, the only time that public intoxication is okay.” 

“Damn,” said Dina thoughtfully. 

“The trains will probably fill up on our way back,” you said, sighing. “Hopefully it won’t be too bad. Worst comes to worst we can walk.”

“It gets that bad?” 

“There’s hardly standing room,” you said, recalling the last festival you’d been around for—the summer before you’d been catapulted to Jackson. “And it just reeks of drunk people. And you have to be really careful, because I hear the custodial staff has to work overtime to clean up all the vomit.” 

“Gross,” said Dina. “And here I was thinking that it was just all being proper and mannerly.”

“Everyone has their limits,” you said lightly.

The penthouse felt just as oppressive as when you came for dinners, like you were walking into the lair of a dragon who was coming back at any moment. Chris was gone—likely participating in the festival herself—but you were surprised to see the figure of Petra bent in a corner as you entered, dusting the top shelf of their bookcase.

You and Dina politely greeted her before ascending the steps to your father’s office.

“Why did your Mom put it in here?” Dina asked as you began shuffling through papers to find the box that your mother had described over text.

“My father doesn’t work in here all too often,” you said, opening a few drawers and seeing no trace of the green and gold box. “He just uses it to file away things.” 

“What does he do?” 

“I actually have no clue,” you confessed. “He doesn’t talk about it, and I don’t ask.” 

“Do you want to see if we can find out?” Dina asked with a conspiratorial raise of her eyebrow as she motioned towards the filing cabinets. “Just a quick look. They’ll never know that we were here.”

You took a moment to consider. If Chris had answered the door to let you two in, you would’ve told her that you couldn’t, because she would definitely snitch if she knew. But she was nowhere to be seen, and Petra looked like she was busy enough downstairs. 

“Sure. Why not.” 

The first few cabinets held nothing interesting—just spending reports and copies of contracts that were written in legalese. 

“It looks like he works with whoever supplies this place,” remarked Dina as you two skimmed the papers and saw records of contacts all over the continent, from the old continental US and South America, each detailing something boring about shipping dates and inventory. 

But then came the third cabinet, with papers dated back before you were born with what looked like sketches of barren looking buildings and hand-scrawled notes. 

“What are these?” you breathed, laying them out on the ground. 

“I think…” Dina squinted. “I think that these might be manufacturing plants?” 

“Oh?” You dug further around in the cabinet to see if you could find any further illuminating evidence. 

“Yeah,” said Dina, staring as she began to flip through the pages already on the floor. “Holy shit, dude. This is…sort of messed up. Look at how small these living quarters are.”

You peered over her shoulder to see the architectural sketches of what looked to be more of what you imagined a prison to be. There were long bunks stacked on top of each other in what looked to be a never ending line, the mattresses barely even large enough to be considered twins. 

Someone cleared their throat behind you, and you nearly leapt.

“I hope I’m not interrupting,” said Petra. Her voice was low and raspy. You noted that it was the first time she’d ever spoken.

“Oh, uh—” You began to frantically gather the papers, hoping she hadn’t seen. Would she tell your parents? “Sorry if we disturbed your work. My parents, uh, they asked us to get something from—”

“It’s fine,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I won’t say anything.”

“Thank you.” You stared up at her steely green eyes, wondering what had compelled her to approach you and Dina. “Um, is there anything we can do to help you?”

“Don’t drink the bourbon,” she said, so quickly that it seemed to fluster her. 

“What? Why?”

“Just don’t do it,” she said again. “Better yet, don’t drink anything except for the water.”  

“I’m sorry,” you said, feeling genuinely apologetic. “I’m not sure if I understand.”

Something crossed over Dina’s face, and suddenly something in her seemed to shift. Her features paled. She knew something you didn’t.

“I came from one of those places,” Petra said, motioning to the diagrams that you were staring at. “They’re not—they’re not somewhere you want to be. We all try our best to come here. That’s what they tell us, you know. Do well enough and you’ll get sent to where everyone gets to live a life of grandeur and luxury. But they barely send anyone, and when they do, they get shitty positions like this.” 

Your breath caught in your throat as your understanding slowly grew. Of course. How had you been so stupid to think that wealthy people were ever going to have any of their kind work any real job? 

“You two were the ones who came from outside, right?” Petra continued. When you two nodded, she crouched next to you. “And you were wondering what was going on with the prices?”

You nodded again, awestruck.

“Your Dad’s little spiel on it being about bad weather is bullshit,” she said, her words hard. “People are getting tired of this. They’re realizing they’re never getting out. You know what it’s like out there—it’s scary. It’s tiring. So many people get sick, so many die. So when people finally caught onto the fact that the work they’re doing is nothing but dressed up slavery and that their chances of getting out are basically zero, they start doing things to mess with the system.”

“Like contaminating the products?” Even as she said it, it seemed like Dina already knew the answer. 

Petra just gave you two a long look. 

“So that’s what he meant by quality control,” you said, the realization hitting you. 

“Among other things.” 

“How long do you think we have?” asked Dina.

“Not very long at all.” 

“You guys can’t be serious,” you said, nervous laughter catching in your chest. “Do you seriously mean that Terranova isn’t going to be around for much longer? Is that what you’re saying?”

Petra shrugged and stood up. “Believe whatever you want. But from where I stand, it looks like there’s only two possible ways out of this situation. That is, unless you guys all become farmers.”

“I don’t think I’m following,” you said.

“Two options,” Petra said, sighing heavily. “Either we starve or we don’t. And the latter means taking a really big fucking chance on what we bring in.”

“But the system has worked for so long,” you said, more to yourself than anyone else. 

“Too long,” she amended. “It was never sustainable. Maybe if you people had been okay with just eating native plants and wildlife. Maybe if you people were okay with changing your way of life. But no, you just had to have your fucking oranges from Florida and your coffee from South America.” 

“Don’t lump me into this,” said Dina. “I just got here.” 

Petra laughed, but it was a hard and sharp sound. “Well, chances are you won’t be here for long.”

“Hang on,” you said. “We’re still doing quality control inspections. The most likely scenario is that we’re going to have to cut down on imports—not that we’re about to go up in flames any minute.”

“I hope you’re right about that,” she said in that voice that told you that she thought that you definitely weren’t and didn’t see the point in arguing further. “Anyways, I’ve got to finish working so I can get home before dark. Be careful, okay?” 

“You too,” you said. “And thanks for…not saying anything.”

It was a bit presumptuous considering that Petra hadn’t really given you any good reason beyond her word that she wouldn’t mention you lurking in your father’s cabinets, so you and Dina were thorough in carefully placing each file back into the correct place, just in case. 

“Do you really think what she said is true?” you asked once you and Dina had located the watch and were on the metro once again.

Dina shrugged. “I mean, it makes sense.”

“Does it?”

“Look,” said Dina. “I know that this might be hard for you to hear, but I’m pretty sure this place lives off of what’s basically slave labor. If there’s any humanity left in the world, I would like to think that Terranova would eventually fall.” 

You swallowed hard, then blinked. For a moment you thought you were going to throw up. “I never knew. I didn’t realize.”

“Of course you didn’t.” Dina’s voice was surprisingly patient. “You were a kid. But you’re not anymore, so it’s time to grow up and face the music.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either.” 

The two of you fell into a silence as the train sped past empty platforms bathed in shadows and you thought and thought and thought. 

There was just too much happening today. First Gunther’s lab, then Ellie, now your entire worldview toppling. 

As the train windows continued to blur the background of the tunnels and empty stations, your mind spun with reflections of your childhood—of you enjoying simple luxuries that you didn’t realize came at the expense of others. That you didn’t even think to ask about. You’d mindlessly trudged along, eating your exotic fruits and drinking your expensive tea and wearing clothes built from indulgent fabrics just because you could. Even when Dina had asked where the oranges came from all the way back in Jackson, you hadn’t let yourself wonder. You hadn’t let yourself consider the possibility that it was anything less than the sanitized fairyland that you’d been brought up in—perhaps because you knew all along. 

And that made it even worse.

Dina seemed to understand, sending you a few glances without prodding. 

“Do you think we need to leave?” you asked, your voice just barely a whisper.

“Us leaving isn’t going to do anything,” Dina said, like she’d been expecting it. “And how would we even do that? It’s not like we can just charter a helicopter again to drop us off back in Jackson.” 

Something twisted inside of you. “Oh, God. You’re right. We couldn’t even leave if we tried.”

And you might have to try, a sinister voice inside you whispered. What if Petra was right about the contaminated products? What if they missed something when checking imports?

You’d never been taught how quickly the fungus spread in the original outbreak, and you knew little about the normal amount of time it would take any sort of disease to infect the entire population. But you did know how densely populated everything was. How reliant everything was on a few strictly maintained channels, like public transportation. 

It wouldn’t be hard for it to all come crashing down, really. It would just take the right place at the right time and—

“Don’t freak out, Y/N.” Dina laid a hand on your shoulder. “We’ll figure something out if it comes to that.” 

You smiled at her, grateful that you didn’t even have to put your words into thoughts. “But if we can’t leave, what do we do? It’s not like we can just sit by and do nothing.”

Dina pulled her bottom lip under her teeth, worrying it before answering. “I don’t really think that we have a choice. Right now, at least. I don’t know if there’s anything that just the two of us can do.”

“I’ll find more,” you said. “I’ll talk to my professors—my friends at university—Simon—”

“Do you think that we’re the only two that know about this?” asked Dina. “Because I really don’t. Maybe your friends don’t. But anyone in the military and anyone who was around when this was founded has got to know. They just don’t care enough.”

Something slowly iced over inside of you as the implications sunk in. 

Gunther had probably known. No, scratch that—he definitely did. He was an academic who had been in his 30s when the world fell apart. Any adult would have asked the same questions that Dina had upon arrival. 

“We’ll figure something out, I’m sure,” said Dina firmly. “Okay? Don’t worry.” 

“Speaking of Simon,” you said, narrowing your eyes, “Did you ever get in touch with him? Is his family okay?” 

“Oh, yeah.” said Dina. “He texted me back a bit ago. Said something about how he was just busy and that his family had been camping up in the mountains.” 

You two faded into silence. 

The retirement party came and went without much trouble. On the outside, at least. You were a mental wreck, barely able to keep it together as near strangers came up to you and expressed how much bigger you were since they’d seen you a decade and a half ago. 

You noted with muted suspicion that Simon’s parents were nowhere to be seen amongst the crowd, not even by the lavishly decorated bar. 

~

That night, you did dream of Ellie. It wasn’t the usual. Ellie wasn’t turning in front of you or bleeding or crying out in pain with a bite mark on her arm. She wasn’t yelling at you for failing her and letting her get bitten without even noticing. No; instead, she lay beside you in your meadow spot and talked to you.

And somehow that was so much worse.

“I named a planet after you,” you said, feeling hot tears pool at the seams of your eyes that you squeezed together to avoid sobbing. You knew you were dreaming. You always knew you were dreaming—seeing Ellie always seemed to prompt a degree of lucidity that was otherwise missing in your sleep. 

“That’s really fucking sappy of you.”

“I miss you.” It came out like a compulsion, like you couldn’t stop it. “Are you here? Are you with me?”

“Y/N,” Ellie said, turning to look at you. The darkness made it difficult to see her whole face, but you could see the look of pity on her features in the gray-blue of the moonlight. “Of course I’m not here. Don’t be stupid. I’m dead.”

“Sometimes I wonder if you’re not. Like, if something happened.”

“Something did happen. I died.” 

“Fuck you.”

She smiled sadly, and for a moment you thought her eyes looked more reflective than usual. “It’s not very helpful to think that way. And what can I tell you? I’m not even real.”

“I’d like you to try,” you whispered.

“Fine.” She sat up, pulling her legs into a lazy tangle as she looked at you. “What did you seriously expect, dude? You were never going to stay. I wasn’t going to go. If I hadn’t been bitten, I’m sure I would’ve orchestrated some way to get out of it. My family is back in Jackson. I liked you just fine, but you’re not my family. That shit’s deeper. Different.” 

You opened your mouth, then closed it, then opened it again. The sharp pain in your chest faded into a cold sense of familiarity. Then, because she wasn’t real and there was no reason to feel embarrassed about bearing your emotions: 

“You feel more like family than anyone here.” 

“Then that sounds like a you problem,” said Ellie, flatly. “I’m not gonna let you guilt trip me like this. Boo fucking hoo, you grew up richer than everyone else on Earth and had to deal with strict parents. Do you realize what actual, real problems are? What about the people who make your lifestyle possible, huh? What about them?”

“I didn’t know.”

“Then you’re fucking stupid.” 

The tears were streaming freely down your face now. “I would do anything to be back with you. I wanted to stay. I miss you so much. I don’t know what to do with myself without you.”

“And I’m sorry you have to deal with that.” 

“Will you just say that you miss me too? You don’t have to mean it. I just want—I just want to hear it.” 

“I can’t miss you. I’m not around anymore.” 

Ellie watched as you curled in on yourself and sobbed so hard you thought you were going to be sick. 

“You’re so weak,” she said after a few minutes. There was no venom in her tone. It was as if she was merely relaying something as inconsequential as the weather to you. “All you do is expect other people to care for you.” 

Not real. Not real. Not real you repeated to yourself in your mind with growing franticness. 

She wasn’t real. None of this was real. Ellie was never that affectionate with you, but this was another level. This was something personal. 

“You said that being weak isn’t bad.”

“And you said that you were going to make sure I was going to get to Terranova.”

 “And it’s not my fault that you decided to go gallivanting alone in the woods.”

“You could’ve tried harder.”

“I did as much as I could.”

“Sure you did.” 

You bolted awake. The hair at the nape of your neck was wet with the slick of sweat. For a moment, you let yourself catch your breath, reorient yourself in your surroundings. 

Your room. You were in your dorm room, with your space posters and your books. Ellie hadn’t been here. She hadn’t said that. You were okay.

A blaring noise jarred you as you realized that your alarm had made you wake up. Your alarm, because it was graduation day and you needed to be ready for a full day of festivities. 

“Fuck,” you muttered, scrubbing your face with you hands. The last thing you wanted to do after this was have to see your parents and pretend like you like them for appearances. 

She's gone. She's gone. She's gone you repeated in your head like a mantra. It was over. You shouldn’t have named that stupid planet after her, because she was gone and she always would be.

It would only be a matter of time until your parents would start asking you about your dating life, you realized as you brushed your teeth over the shiny white basin of your sink, the minty bubbles making your lips tingle. They’d been willing to entertain your reasoning of wanting to focus on your studies while you were at university, but you knew they’d been looking for prospective engagements behind your back.

It took you longer than usual to get ready, your mind wandering as you lingered in different corners of your apartment. You kept the lights off, opting to let the cool, gray daylight from the gloomy clouds wash the surfaces of your room. 

“Hey,” said Dina, appearing from her own room and leaning against the doorframe. 

“Good morning,” you greeted blandly, your attention on the necklace that just wouldn’t clasp around your neck.

“Looking spiffy,” she said. “By the way, did Simon say anything to you?” 

“No.” You paused and turned to her, a frown on her face. As far as you were concerned, you really had no reason to be in contact with Simon beyond the general pleasantries. 

“He just called me,” said Dina. “He seemed—I dunno. Like, weirdly frantic. He was saying that we need to stop by his.” 

“His” was inconveniently on the opposite side of the city, even further past your parents’ place. 

“Why? Pretty far for a short jaunt.” 

“He was really insistent,” pressed Dina. Her long black curls were unruly, her skin sallow in a way you hadn’t seen in a while. She hadn’t been sleeping as well recently, it seemed, just like you since you’d spoken to Petra. “Maybe we should just stop by.” 

“Did he say anything about why?”

“I tried to ask,” said Dina, frowning. “But the call dropped.”

“I hate how horrible service is in your room,” you said. 

“Me too. Anyway, are we gonna see him?” 

You shrugged. “I guess. We have some time. I’ll text him too just to see what’s going on.” 

Dina was ready in just a few minutes, pulling a light blue sweatshirt over her shirt and stepping into her shoes. 

“You look soooo cute,” she said, pinching your cheeks. “My little grad.”

You rolled your eyes, but the size of your smile ruined it. 

For once in your life, you noticed that the university green outside of your apartment was suspiciously empty. 

“Quiet,” Dina noted as you made your way to the metro. “It’s eerie.” 

“People were probably partying all night,” you said. “Celebrating graduation and whatnot. I imagine everyone’s sleeping off a hangover instead of having to get up at the crack of dawn to voyage across the city.”

Dina held up her hands. “Gee. Sorry.” 

The train was a little more populated. Some older Terranovans had newspapers cracked as they licked their fingers to turn the page. The silent hum of the train lulled you into another soliloquy as the tunnel plunged you into darkness.

You had to stop thinking about Ellie. You needed to move on, as awful as it was. You’d named a planet after her. She’d be forever remembered in the stars, and that should be enough. You didn’t need to keep dragging her memory behind you like a corpse, because she was dead and she was never coming back and she was—

On the platform?

Your mouth dropped as the doors of the train slowly rolled open to reveal a short girl with shoulder length auburn hair slowly ambling towards the platform. She was wearing a pale green short sleeve that had some sort of edgy spatter pattern on it—something that was very Ellie-esque. But something wasn’t…

It took you one breath to notice that neither of her bare arms had any tattoos. It took you another to see that what you had initially assumed to be a pattern was actually blood-soaked fabric formed from red rivelets that trickled from a wound on her neck.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, grabbing Dina’s hand. “Do you see—”

“Everybody run!” Dina screamed, leaping up from the train seat and dragging you with her as she bolted off the train and to the opposite exit. 

The girl wailed and barrelled towards the train car, her eyes locking onto the nervous movement of the passengers. You froze. It was slowly becoming obvious that this wasn’t Ellie, from the slightly different set of her eyes to the unfamiliar button nose. But it was hard to not feel anything but sympathy for the monster before you. She was just a girl, probably younger than you. 

“Fucking go, Y/N,” Dina snapped, yanking you harder and onto the platform just as Not-Ellie leapt onto one of the newspaper readers. “It’s not her.” 

She didn’t need to tell you twice. In seconds you two had sprinted to the mouth of the stairs, feet pummeling against the pavement as the sounds of the carnage unfolding behind you followed. 

You ran. You didn’t stop running, not even when the screams faded and you and Dina were blocks and blocks away, hidden in an alley. Not even when your lungs were so empty and sore that they felt like they were breaths away from breaking, not even when you were sure there was nothing left inside you.

Dina kept your pace, blindly following your lead as you darted in between streets and side alleys until you reached your parents’ apartment. 

“Do you think there’s more?” you managed to whisper through heaving voices once you stood on the steps. 

You and Dina hadn’t ran into anyone after the metro, undead or alive. 

“Not here,” hissed Dina. “Inside first. Then we evaluate after we’re safer.” 

For a moment, the phantom dread from your normal life spilled over and you were afraid of facing your parents. It was almost laughable—there were deranged infected hosts looking to eat your flesh roaming the streets, and you were worried about seeing your parents. 

“I’d almost prefer out here, too,” said Dina, looking as if she’d read your mind. 

The apartment complex was also empty and eerily quiet as you two ascended the steps. Dina had insisted that you took the stairs, pointing out that the elevator was far too risky. 

“It might get stuck,” she’d whispered as she’d pulled you away from pressing the button. “Also—unnecessary noise.” 

You nodded wordlessly, following her up the steps until you reached the top floor.

Still no one to be seen.

The spare key was still hidden under the flower pot, and the penthouse door swung open easily. You and Dina locked it behind you before dragging a small bookcase in front of it, piling on books until no one could physically break through. 

“Sweep the apartment,” Dina said lowly, reaching over to grab the fireplace poker that was in the entryway. “Behind me until you get a weapon.” 

For a few tense moments, you cowered behind Dina as she navigated you both into the dark, empty kitchen. Every breath that left your lips was shaky and uneven. Your fingers trembled around the handle of the butcher’s knife that you’d retrieved from the block. 

Nothing was on the first floor. 

Nothing on the second floor, either. There was no sign of your parents anywhere. By all accounts, it seemed that they’d just up and left for coffee. Which is probably what they’d done, given that your father had just retired and had nothing better to do. 

“Fucking thank god,” you’d cried out once you’d swept the last room, collapsing onto the sitting room sofa. “Jesus Christ, Dina. What the fuck. I can’t believe I just—”

The words petered out as the adrenaline rush that had been keeping you at least someone composed dissipated, leaving you a shaking and inconsolable mess. 

“We’re so lucky that we got out in time,” said Dina, her eyes blurry and unfocused.

You took a break from your crying to look at her. “What?”

“The doors close automatically,” she said flatly. “No motion sensor. If that girl had shown up any later—if we hadn’t noticed her in time—”

“We would’ve been stuck on the train with her,” you said, cold realization trickling into you. “Oh my god. That probably happened to the people on the train who weren’t quick enough.”

“Or didn’t know any better,” Dina added. “Didn’t you say that no one here really understands what the infection is? That it makes people hosts?” 

Your heart dropped. “We’re so fucked. We need to get out.” 

“Have a plane anywhere?”

“Oh, god, Simon,” you wailed. “He was probably—he must’ve known—his parents must have—”

“Let’s not dwell,” said Dina firmly, brushing her hands off on her pants. “Okay. Let’s take inventory of the situation. That girl likely wasn’t patient zero. Wherever she came from was around…8th street?” 

You nodded.

“Right. 8th street, which is where the majority of non-student residential living spaces are. Chances are that if it wasn’t already, it’s all over that area. We came south, which is away from the most densely populated area and probably why we haven’t seen anyone else. We’re up high with what seems to be currently running water, no current activity in the building, and plenty of both perishable and nonperishable food. 

“But this isn’t permanent. The power grid is going to fail soon, and plumbing is likely going to go next. And if we somehow make it long enough, any infected in the building are going to turn into clickers, and they’ll stop at nothing to get in. Our window is limited. If we wait to get out, they’re going to get stronger and grow in numbers. We need to play this right.”

“So what you’re saying is that if there’s any possible chance of escape,” you said, feeling the blood drain from your face, “That we need to take it.”

Dina nodded, her face hard. 

“How long do you think we have until we have to make that choice?” 

She winced. “Probably 2 hours ago. There’s likely enough infected scattered around the city after the metro incident that it’s all over now.”

Your stomach dropped. 

“But that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t try,” said Dina. “It’s only going to get worse the longer we wait. So if that big fancy scientist brain of yours has any genius plans of how to get us out, please hurry it up and say so.” 

“Well,” you said, your mouth dry as you brainstormed aloud, “We are at the southern tip of the city. We’re probably not all that far from the border. The problem would be getting across—and, of course, getting there in the first place. It’s designed to be deceptive so that raiders can’t find it.” 

“We’re not going to cross the border,” said Dina. “We’re never getting across on foot unless it’s been destroyed. Simon told me about how it works. There’s quite literally zero chance unless we start tunneling underground.” 

“So no crossing on foot,” you said weakly. “Noted. Well. Uh. Can you fly a plane?”

“Depends. Do you have one?” 

You buried your face in your hands. 

“Come on, Y/N. Think. There has to be another option.” 

Another option. Another option. Think, think, think…

Scientist brain. Science. 

Like your degree. Like the lab you’d been working in last year. Like the ill-fated experiment that you’d scrapped after the university cut funding for it after your accident.

Like the time that you’d actually succeeded in inventing teleportation, even if it was accidental.

Like the contraption that was likely gathering dust in an unlocked lab room just a few blocks away. 

“Dina,” you said, “I’ve got it. But I need you to get me to Gunther’s lab.” 

The only good thing about today was the fact that Gunther’s lab, which was normally an inconvenient train ride away from your apartment, was in fact within perfectly reasonable walking distance from your parents’. 

There were many bad things, though. Namely the infected now roaming the streets. And the plumes of smoke rising in the distance, suggesting that the Terranovan authorities were attempting to quell the issue the old-fashioned way. 

With two knives and a pistol in your hand (you’d never been more happy to see something actually useful in your father’s antique collection), you were at least feeling more prepared to slowly creep back down the staircase of the building and out onto the streets. 

For the first two blocks, everything remained uneventful. You and Dina stuck close to the shadows, being careful not to speak, make any noise, or bump into anything noisy. 

Then a girl that looked somewhat familiar to you came stumbling around the corner, cloudy orange saliva dripping from her ashen lips. She locked onto you and began to excitedly chitter, her jerky movements becoming more pointed as she started approaching. 

“Knife,” Dina whispered, flicking your arm once she saw you raise your pistol. “Too loud.” 

It was your first kill without the help of a bullet. As the blade slid across the throat of the girl, you realized where you recognized her from—she’d been one of the students you’d tutored back in high school. You’d always liked her. Her name had been Liesel, and she was one of your best pupils. She’d been so bright. You thought she’d end up skipping senior year and just coming with you to college. 

Not anymore. You tried not to think too hard about the look you’d seen in her eyes right as you severed her carotid artery—something human, something cognisant. You couldn’t cope with what that implied. 

Did Ellie look like that? No, surely not. It’d been over a year. She was likely a clicker by now, her freckled face entirely swallowed by the spore shards. But was she still in there, like Liesel had been?

The next ones were easier—random men whose eyes remained flat and flinty even as you sent them to their ends. By the time you and Dina had broken into Gunther’s lab, you were splattered in blood and assorted mystery fluids. 

The sterile building was empty and deathly silent. Each step on the tiled floor echoed, the fluorescent lighting painfully bright. 

“Are there any workers in here usually?” Dina asked, her voice low. 

“Rarely,” you whispered back. “It’s normally totally empty beside me or Gunther.”

“I hope you’re right.” 

A long screeching that sounded like it came from a few doors down made you freeze.

“Let’s move,” Dina said under her breath. “I don’t want to find out who that is.” 

Gunther’s lab was nearly just as you remembered it. The only difference was the missing files on his desk, which suggested that he’d taken his work home with him. 

As you’d hoped, the prototype you’d developed in your third year was under a white sheet, almost entirely untouched. 

“This is what sent you to Jackson?” Dina whispered in wonder, her fingers hovering over the wires but not daring to touch.

In actuality, it was a very small contraption, just transistors and gates and wires that crossed over each other like veins. It had been intended for use on laboratory rats. It’d never been sized to people. But if this was your only shot…

“I can’t remember exactly what Gunther and I did to—”

Scratchhhhhh.

Your blood ran cold. Something was outside the door. 

“I’ll cover it,” said Dina, her voice firm. Don’t worry.”

And you wouldn’t—not when there was one zombie against you and Dina, armed to the teeth.

“Uh, anyway—” You blinked as you stared down at the mess of wires. “Technically what happened was it short-circuit—”

Scratch scratch scratch

You gulped. “Um, like I was saying, it short—”

Scratchscratchscratchscratch

To punctuate the point, the door creaked and shifted. 

Dina pressed her finger to her lips as she slowly crept over to the door, standing on her toes to look through the thin strip of plexiglass that ran across the top of the door. 

For a moment, you thought that she’d frozen. Then she quietly stepped over to the desk, snatched the pen Gunther had lying around, and scribbled something onto it. She handed it to you, her finger still posed over her lips. 

7 of them. All big. I think they followed us from the street.

Just as you finished reading it, the doorknob began to turn, back and forth and back and forth against the lock. 

Dina pulled the note from your fingers to scribble something else out. 

Don't say anything. Noise will send them into a feeding frenzy. Door won't hold long. Do whatever you need to fix it and get us out.

You nodded, your heart crawling in your throat. If you couldn’t figure out how to fix this in time…Gunther’s lab was on the 6th floor. 

There were only 3 bullets in the pistol—you’d checked. And a kitchen knife was fine when you were out on the street facing one infected at a time, but 7 in an enclosed space was different.

You probably weren’t going to get out of here alive. 

Not unless you pulled it together right now. 

You pinched the bridge of your nose as you tried to run through all possible ways to recreate the conditions that had sent you to Jackson. You needed that special iridescent wire, which you could see shoved into the corner. You needed a power source. You needed a working circuit board. 

You had all of it. You could do this. 

SIlently, you retrieved the spool of wire and began reattaching it to the board in the pattern you vaguely recalled from your work. 

The lights flickered above, and it was all you could do to keep yourself from swearing out loud. 

The power needed to hold. It needed to hold for just one more minute, just for a moment while you finished configuring the—

Your hand knocked the spool to the floor.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The thudding started slower but crescendoed into the sound of groaning wood as the infected outside began to pound at the door. 

Dina waved a slip of paper in front of you with wide eyes that said Hurry the FUCK up!. 

You sent her a desperate look back. Your hands were shaking so hard that it was a miracle you were even able to feed the end of the wire through the pliers to snap off the end. You dug your nails into the protective sleeve at the end to expose the tip of the wire.

The door held just until you plugged the wire into the input. 

As it hummed to life, sputtering and sparking and shimmering in the air, the lights flickered once, then plunged you into darkness as the sound of wood splintering came from the door. 

Someone—it was probably you—screamed as a crowd came barrelling through the door, all hunched shoulders and gaping maws. 

Then you grabbed the hand of Dina and felt yourself tumble into nothingness. 

~

The sky was clear and bluebell blue above you when you came to, your back pressed uncomfortably against the sun-warmed earth. Every part of you ached like you’d just been run over, just like it had that day one year ago that started it all.

You didn’t need to look around to confirm—you were certain of where you were. You just knew it. 

A groaning sound made you shoot up, clutching at the pistol in your hand. 

Dina was sprawled on the ground next to you, rubbing her forehead with her hands. 

“We did it,” you said, astonished. “We actually did it. We got out.” 

“And you launched us out to Jackson.” Dina was sitting up now, looking around with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ. Are those things coming with us?”

“I don’t think so,” you said blandly. Your hands were still shaking, just as they had in the lab moments before. 

The backpack you’d packed with supplies lay strewn on the ground, covered in the dust of the clearing. 

“Are we—”

“I think so,” you said. “Funny how it sent us to the same place it sent me. I guess we’ll never figure out how, though.”

“Yeah.”

A comfortable silence fell over the two of you as you acclimated to the bright Wyoming sun, the warmth of the air against your skin.

Your heart lurched as the implications sunk in. Now that you couldn’t pretend like Jackson had been some sort of distant memory, you were going to mourn Ellie all over again whether you liked it or not. 

“It’s going to be weird without her.” Dina was apparently on the same page. 

You choked back the sob that came up, rubbing your eyes angrily. You would not cry right now, not when you had more important things to attend to. 

“She really did love you, you know,” Dina continued, also apparently oblivious to the fact that you were just barely holding it together. “Even if she never said it. I’ve never seen her like that around anyone. I hope you haven’t been beating yourself up over what happened.”

You sent her a tight smile. It was odd, talking about Ellie like this with her. You’d never had before. It was one of those topics that you both knew to just avoid. “I just hope Joel is alright. I can’t imagine how difficult that would be—losing two daughters just like tha—”

A twig snapping in the woods sent you into silence, your hand drifting back down to your pistol as you spun around.

For a moment, all you could hear was the breath that hitched in both your and Dina’s throat. Then a girl with short brown hair burst through the tree line, her gun set on you. 

“Ellie?” you gasped. 

She fell still, mouth agape and eyebrows nearly touching her hairline.

“Ellie, what the fuck?” said Dina, recovering much quicker than you. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I—” Ellie dropped her pistol so it pointed to the ground, staring at Dina incredulously. “What are you doing here?” Then she rounded on you. “What did you do? You promised to stay in Terranova.” 

You couldn’t answer. You were just so starstruck that all you could was stare, taking in everything about her. She was certainly Ellie—with her stupid little flashlight on her backpack strap and her fern tattoo and the perpetual grumpiness etched on her face. It was strange to think that you could have mistaken anyone else for her.

“Well?” she pressed, stepping closer, her mouth in a hard line. 

“Terranova fell. It’s gone. I did what I had to do to get us out.” The words came out quietly. Then, without thinking: “You’re alive.” 

“Long story,” said Ellie. “I think the scanner was defective.” 

“That sounds like a pretty short story.”

She stared at you with an expression of such odd devastation that you felt your heart drop.

Dina jumped to her feet and launched herself at Ellie, throwing her arms around her neck and laughing hysterically. “I can’t believe it. I just—I just—you’re alive. I’m so glad you’re alive.” 

Ellie, for her part, stood mostly still, awkwardly patting Dina on the back until she was released. “I’m glad you are, too.”

You tried not to feel jealous, but it was hard not to. Dina could jump into Ellie’s arms and tell her nice things like that without having to think twice because they’d always been friends. You did, because you weren’t sure if Ellie would want that anymore. 

You didn’t try to touch her as she walked you and Dina back. She followed suit, not even trying to speak to you. 

By the time you were walking through the walls of Jackson and waving to the gaping passerbys who were shocked at your return, you felt like you were going to be sick. 

Ellie was alive. She’d never been dead, and you’d left her out here while you and Dina got to eat fancy Brazilian chocolates and Floridian oranges and artisanal bread. You’d been actively trying to forget her instead of trying to find her.

And now she was here, next to you. And she didn’t seem even remotely interested in you. But could you blame her? It had been a year. You’d left her to come back to Jackson all by herself. She didn’t have any reason to wait around for you. She’d probably found someone else. Or gotten back together with Cat.

And who were you to think that she’d even be interested in you if there wasn’t the guaranteed casualness from a definite end date? 

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Joel appeared on the front porch as you and Dina approached with Ellie flanking you, his eyes wide. 

“Joel!” you cried out, your angst briefly forgotten. 

His eyes darted between the three of you, his face awash with shock. “Did ya just get sick of living there or something?”

You looked down and surveyed your outfit. You were clearly wearing something that was intended to be formal—a flowing graduation dress—but you were splattered with blood and viscous mystery substances and covered in a healthy layer of dirt. You’d clearly gone through some shit. 

You were struggling to come up with a response other than “hey” when you were reminded of something you’d shoved into your bag while you’d been preparing to leave your parents’ penthouse. 

Feeling smug that you’d managed to remember, you reached into your pack and fished around until you found what you were looking for.

“We just figured you’d be almost out of this by now,” you said dryly. The value-sized bag of coffee beans dangled from your fingers, its maroon packaging catching in the sun. 

His face split into a wide grin as he shook his head in disbelief. “Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit. I guess I’ve got to tell Tommy that we don’t have to ration anymore. C’mon, let’s get you settled.”

~

Joel insisted that you move back into your old room instead of the vacant cottage down the street, which was equal parts touching and equal parts terrifying. Ellie lingered by the doorway as you unpacked, disappearing down the hall when you finally lifted your head from your few belongings to say something to her. 

You let out a long, labored exhale, dropping onto your bed and curling your knees up to your chest. You’d since changed and showered the dirt and blood off, shed your tattered graduation dress and left it gathered in the corner like a snake’s molt. The setting sun filtered through the curtains, turning the walls golden. 

You didn’t know what to do. That you could even come back to Jackson had been a thought you hadn’t dared to consider until this morning, when there were no other options. That Ellie was still alive—well, you hadn’t had any time to strategize or plan for that one. You were still reeling from seeing her for the first time in a year, all summer freckles and flyaway hairs escaping from a loose hairband.

She’d looked even better than you’d remembered. There were certain parts of her that you realized you’d forgotten—like the scar on her eyebrow, the way her voice sounded. It made you feel nauseous, knowing that despite your best efforts, you hadn’t been able to keep the real Ellie alive in your head. 

You’d already eaten something with Tommy and Maria, who had been insistent on hearing from you and Dina about the events in Terranova. Joel had left you to your own devices with instructions to see him tomorrow to figure out work after you’d had a decent rest, so there was really no reason to go roaming around hoping to run into Ellie. 

But you really wanted to. You checked the clock again, seeing that it was already past 9. Dusk had already fallen upon Jackson, the setting sun now just a suggestion of a golden line on the horizon.

You had a feeling you knew where she was. 

The meadow was just as lush and green as you remembered as your feet carried you across the grass. It seemed that really nothing had changed—except for the horses in the distance, where you could see a small foal beside a chestnut mare that you were pretty sure was Shimmer. 

“Hi,” you said, settling down next to Ellie’s spot under the tree. 

If she was surprised to see you, she didn’t show it. She just sighed and fiddled with the sleeve of her shirt. 

“Hi.” 

“I’m sorry for bothering you,” you said, keeping your eyes locked on the darkening sky. “I just wanted to come find you to tell you that I understand if you don’t—want me like that anymore. I’ll leave you alone if you want me to.” 

Even when she took her time responding, you didn’t dare look her way. 

“Is that what you want?” You couldn’t quite decipher the tone she’d used. 

“Obviously not,” you said mildly. “I would never want that.” 

“I wouldn’t either.” 

Your breath caught in your throat, your gaze dropping to meet hers. You were just about to speak when—

“The scanner wasn’t defective,” said Ellie. Her voice was soft, her own eyes falling to look at her tattooed arm. 

“Of course it was,” you said, feeling very confused as to why she was suddenly detouring into something so unrelated. “If it wasn’t, you’d be dead already.” 

“I’ve been bitten twice.”

You blinked, sure you’d heard her incorrectly. “Sorry?” 

“I’ve been bitten twice,” said Ellie again, this time with more conviction. “That’s why the scanner came back red. There was nothing wrong with it.” 

“Then how…” Your words trailed off. 

She didn’t let you ponder long. “I’m immune.” 

Immune. 

You closed your mouth—it’d been hanging open unceremoniously for a moment—and tried to fit this very startling fact in with everything else you knew about her. What did being immune mean? And why was she telling you now?

“You knew from the start that you couldn’t come with me to Terranova,” you realized aloud. 

Ellie was gnawing at her bottom look as she looked back at you. You noted that she didn’t offer up any corrections. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” You couldn’t hide the hurt in your voice. “Why did you lie to me like that?” 

“I found out that I was immune when I was back in Boston,” Ellie said, the words spilling out of her. “I was in this abandoned mall with my best friend—Riley. She told me she was leaving to be a Firefly, and I begged her to stay and kissed her and for a moment I was so sure that something was going to change between us—something for the better. But then…” She waved her tattooed arm in front of her. “We both got bit. I survived. She, obviously, did not.”

Something deep inside you twisted as you tried to imagine how traumatizing that must’ve been for someone that couldn’t have been older than 14. 

“And so I thought that maybe, you were my chance to right what I’ve done wrong,” continued Ellie. Even though she wasn’t looking at you anymore, you could see the reflective sheen of tears in her eyes. “I’ve gotten to live while so many other people have died. I just can’t handle another. It’s not fair of me to keep someone here when there’s somewhere safer for them. It’s selfish, and I’ve been that enough.”

It was as if you’d found the last puzzle piece for the jigsaw of Ellie Williams. All this time, you’d been struggling in your attempts to understand why she was pushing you away—and why she changed her mind so suddenly. 

Now you got it. Ellie had come into this knowing that she’d likely never see you again. She’d been betting on it, even. It was all some convoluted way for her to set things right in her head, for her to forgive herself for Riley and whoever else she’d lost. 

“You could have told me,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I would have understood.” 

Ellie sent you a sad smile, shaking her head. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone that I’m immune. It’s one of those things that only Joel and Maria and Tommy know about. No one else. They’d fucking kill me if they found out you knew.” 

“I’m really sorry.” The fabric of her t-shirt was soft under your fingers as you rested a hand on her shoulder. 

“I’m really sorry for how much of an asshole I was to you,” said Ellie. You didn’t miss the way her eyes had widened when you’d reached out to touch her. “I didn’t want to be that way. I always wanted more. I just couldn’t handle having that, knowing that you were going to leave anyway. I thought it’d be easier for the both of us if you thought I was awful.”

“Didn’t work very well.”

“Clearly.”

“I forgive you,” you said, moving your hand so you could thread your fingers into the loose strands that she hadn’t pulled into that baby bun she always wore. 

Instead of kissing you like you thought she might, she threw her arms around you and crushed herself against you, burying her face into your neck.

You held her there, feeling the way her frame trembled under the weight of a sob and tracing patterns across her back. 

“I missed you,” you whispered, your chin rested atop her shoulder. “I thought about you every day.”

Ellie clung to you harder as you shifted.

“I’m really sorry,” she said again, muffled against your neck. “I’m sorry for everything.” 

“I’m not.” You finally pulled away so that she had to look you in the eyes. Under the soft bath of moonlight, her green eyes glowed. “Terranova shouldn’t have existed in the first place. I’m glad that I got out. And I’m even more glad that it brought me back to you.” 

Her hand found yours, your fingers tangling.

“I used to spend all my free time wondering what you were doing up North,” said Ellie. You felt her thumb brush across the top of your hand. “I thought that maybe if I imagined you happy, it’d be easier.”

“What did you think I was doing?” 

The corner of her mouth quirked up. “Lots of studying, I assumed. And going to fancy events for rich people, eating all that expensive shit that the rest of the world can’t have.” 

“Not far off,” you admitted. “But you missed how much time I’d spend wondering about you. I dreamt about you all the time. Sometimes I’d see people who looked similar to you and it’d ruin my whole day. I couldn’t believe that you were gone. I think that deep down I knew that you weren’t.” 

She squeezed your hand. When you looked down at where you were touching, you noted how there wasn’t such a stark difference between you and her anymore. The doll fresh-out-of-the-box skin had disappeared in favor of scars and marks collected from your time in the real world. 

“I really thought you’d be safe there,” said Ellie. 

“You don’t need to worry about me like that anymore,” you told her, cupping her face with your free hand. Her eyelids fluttered half-closed as she leaned into the contact. “You’ve done enough. You can care about me without taking responsibility for everything bad that ever happens to me. You deserve to have something good without suffering because of it. I promise I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Not anymore,” she agreed. 

When you kissed her, it felt like coming home. There was something so achingly familiar in the slope of her neck, the slight chapped-ness of her lips, the almost silent click of her jaw as her mouth parted with a gasp as your hands twisted in her hair. 

You weren’t quite sure how you managed a year without it. 

The skin of her neck was just as soft as you remembered against your lips, her response just as reactive. 

“What’s this?” you asked, pulling away to point at what looked like a small tattoo on the side of her neck. You hadn’t noticed it before—her hair had been covering it. 

“Oh.” Ellie looked sheepish. “My free birthday tattoo from Cat. It’s the moon.” 

“I see that,” you murmured, brushing her hair back more intentionally to get a better look at it. “Why that phase?” 

“It’s the phase it would’ve been on the day we met,” said Ellie. She was bright red now. “Don’t fucking laugh. I know that it’s stupid. Shut up. Stop!” 

You desperately tried to stop your giggles, schooling your face into something straight and no-nonsense. 

“I spent so long wondering if you even liked me,” you told her. “And now you’ve gone and gotten a tattoo dedicated to me. I feel so validated.” 

Ellie rolled her eyes. 

“I have you beat, though,” you said, quieter now. 

She looked back at you, her brows furrowed. “Huh?” 

“When it comes to grand, stupid gestures,” you explained, your finger pointing up to the sky in the general area that you’d collected your data from. “There’s a planet named Ellie up there now.” 

Her jaw dropped for just a moment. “You’re kidding.” 

“No.” Now you were feeling slightly self-conscious. 

“You would do something like that,” Ellie muttered, more to herself than anything. “A whole fucking planet.” 

You let her drape an arm around you, pulling you into her until your head fit into the space between her shoulder and her chin. 

“So,” Ellie said, and you could feel the words vibrate in her diaphragm, “What now?” 

“What do you mean, what now?” 

“I mean, what are you gonna do now that you’re stuck here with me for the foreseeable future?” 

“Enjoy being stuck with you,” you said. “Maybe get a matching tattoo. Give you the piece of the meteorite I nabbed from the display case in my lab. But mostly spend my time bothering you.”

When she didn’t answer, you shifted so you could look up at her. She was already looking back, her eyes soft and the corners of her lips pulling into two dimples. 

“Is that alright with you?’ you ventured.

Her arm tightened around you, fingers gently pressing into the flesh of your forearm like she still couldn’t quite believe you were there. 

“You can be so fucking stupid sometimes,” she said. “I get a tattoo for you and you’re still asking if I want you around.” 

“It’s been known for you to make rash decisions,” you offered dryly. “I didn’t want to jump to any assumptions.”

 She rolled her eyes, still smiling down at you, eyes awash with the reflections of the stars above. 

Slowly, you reached up and touched her face again, letting your fingers relearn her features, tracing the paths created by freckles—just like you had in her bed all those months ago. 

But unlike last time, she didn’t stop you. She didn’t do anything except let you. There was something in her demeanor, something that was fragile and vulnerable and everything that you wanted her to be with you.

“Is this going to be enough for you?” she asked suddenly, her voice raw. 

“What do you mean?” Your fingers paused and rested at her cheekbones.

“It’s just—” She blinked hard and cast her gaze up to the sky. “You grew up so differently than me. I’m not going to be able to give you that fancy Terranova life. Are you sure this is going to make you happy?” 

“Yes.” 

She looked at you, an eyebrow raised skeptically. Your hands moved to cup her face, fingers threading back into her hair. 

“Don’t make that face,” you chided.

“I just find it really hard to believe.” 

You took in a breath. Perhaps more elaboration was in order.

“I’ll put it like this,” you said. “I spent most of my life thinking I needed to be something extraordinary to be happy. I put so much time into trying to be special and nothing I did ever felt like it was enough. But then I met you, and one day I realized while I was here that I didn’t need that anymore. Just being around you makes me more content than I’ve ever been. I don’t want to be like what I was before. I would consider it my greatest success if I got to lead an ordinary life with you.”

You took her brief silence as an opportunity to press your lips to the corner of her mouth.

“Believe me now?” you asked. 

Ellie nodded, leaning in to drop an affectionate kiss at the top of your nose. 

And as you sat there, nestled into the warmth of her side and craning your head up to the sky, you’d never been more sure of yourself. 

This would be more than enough. 

final a/n: ok so some apologies are in order for this one! first of all, sorry for aborting jj lmao. i just couldn't envision doing light speed travel with a baby strapped to dina. big apologies for not including a final smut scene. i actually had one semi-drafted out because i wanted to write one where ellie bottomed bc i feel like it would really hammer in that she was finally choosing to be vulnerable, but the shift in the scene tone just didn't sit right with me. sometimes i write bonus scenes for big fics like this, so if there's enough interest i might write a short one shot of the scene i scrapped/other scenes that i also scrapped. also, speaking of things i scrapped: i had an alternate ending in mind where joel actually did die and ellie went on her seattle rampage + y/n realizes she's alive and tries to sneak out with dina to find her. i might end up writing that one too, depending on interest! anyway, thank you all for coming along on this journey with me so far! it's not totally over yet...the epilogue is still in the works! i appreciate hearing what you guys think of this and hope you all enjoyed !!!

also idk if this is important to bring up but i will say that i didn't realize the kind of message i'd be sending when i wrote a protagonist who's from a place like terranova—exoplanet isn't meant to be some sort of piece that makes you empathize with ignorant beneficiaries of slave labor...it's just the way it shook out and for that i'm sorry 😭

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams x y/n

[renamami]

Facts About Romani People Because That One Person Asked For it On My Post About Azusa

A while back I made a post about how I wished people in the Diabolik Lovers fandom focused more on how Azusa is a Romani man and how cool that was for an otome game. Somebody reblogged and asked for somebody to make a post about Romani people so we'd have more reference on how to incorporate Azusa's heritage into more content of him so here it is!

I wanna preface this post by saying that I am not Romani or of Romani descent! I simply like learning about other cultures and groups of people and want people to learn more information about a race that has been villainized and oppressed for centuries. While I'll be discussing basic history, myths and stereotypes, and basics in culture, please make sure you go find Romani creators and people to get more information from! I love Florian on TikTok and YouTube so I recommend checking him out first!

As somebody who is not Romani, there might be some things that aren't completely correct since I'm relying on what is available. Always listen to Romani voices when looking for information. I'm just providing basics and am definitely NOT and expert!

Basic Terminology & History

First off, you might know Romani people often being referred to as the G-word. It's a racial slur that came from people believing they originated in Egypt and has been used for centuries to degrade and demean Romani people. NEVER USE THIS WORD.

The Romani people have a very closed culture and language which has helped them preserve it throughout the years. Translations and translators are hard to find and I don't recommend trying to find any out of respect for the community. What is known, though, is that there are masculine and feminine ways to refer to Romani people.

Romani: The race and communities as a whole

Roma: I'm slightly unclear on this one but it's another way to refer to the race and community itself. Take this with a grain of salt and do your own research

Rom: Way to refer to men as masc Romani people

Romni: Way to refer to women and fem Romani people

Romanipen: The Romani philosophy, rules, laws, and culture (note that there are a bunch of different communities since Romani is a race. There is Christian and Muslim Romani groups and people who's rules differ from others. Like all races, every community is different.)

Gadjo/Gadji: Someone who has no Romanipen, typically someone who is not ethnically Romani but can also mean a Romani person who does not live in Romani culture

Contrary to myth, the Romani people originate from South Asia, more specifically India. It's not clear when in India they came from but it's speculated that they came from the North-West region about 1,000 years ago. From there, they migrated to Europe and other continents. There are Romani populations all over Europe, commonly known mostly in Romania and Spain. Even now, the Romani language still has Indian and South Asian influences as well as Persian and Arabic influences.

From the very beginning, Romani people were discriminated against. They were labeled as wizards, thieves, baby-snatchers, etc. They were enslaved and coerced into chattel slavery in the Middle Ages by the Danubian Principalities where they were divided into groups by their owners. In the 16th-18th centuries, anti-Romani sentiment grew around Europe which led to many Romani people being murdered without any justice being served. They continued to be persecuted and blamed for a range of thing for centuries even up to this day.

In WWII, Romani people, along with Jews and black people, were at the very bottom of Hitler's totem pole and were targeted for ethnic cleansing in the Holocaust. While it's estimated that the death toll came in 150,000 people, others estimate it to be around 1.5 million victims of the Romani Holocaust. Unfortunately, the Romani victims are still very overlooked when the Holocaust and WWII is covered.

Right now, Romani people are still being persecuted and stigmatized. In Romania, they live in squatter communities with high unemployment. While some live a "nomadic" lifestyle, most migration is forced because a ton of communities don't accept Romani settlements. Discrimination is still rampant and all the violence and propaganda that racism entails is still alive and well when it comes to the Romani people, especially in Europe.

Please note that this is a VERY vague history and absolutely does not cover nearly a fraction of Romani history. This is just the cliff notes and I've only scratched the very surface and left out a lot of details.

Myths & Stereotypes

You ever see this shit before?

What you're looking at right here are racist racial caricatures and oversexualized fantasies of Romani women, specifically "fortune tellers".

Let's quickly get into myths.

Fortune Tellers: Romani people who were impoverished and desperate and down on their luck turned to earning money where they could. It was already a prevalent stereotype that Romani people were witches and mind readers, so many women turned to fortune telling and giving tarot readings because that was what was available to them and were thus painted as occult-loving scam artists. No, they are not supernatural being or seers. In the same way that somebody can practice spirituality, that's what they did. Nothing more, nothing less. Extra tidbit: tarot is not a closed practice specific to the Roma. Saying that it is is like saying banking is a closed practice for Jews. It's racist to push that narrative and if anyone tries to just know they're a dumbass.

The Exotic Wanderer: Romani people very rarely travel out of desire. They travel and migrate because everywhere pushes them out and denies them permanent residence. They aren't free-spirited nomads and portraying them as such further harms them. Speaking of exotic;

The Mysterious and Sexy Romani Woman: Notice how all the women in the picture above are super sexualized or have this air of mystery to them? That's because art, theater, and propaganda has painted Romani women as sexually available and provocative, gaudy, and "exotic". Women of color, you know what I'm talking about because we all deal with it. One of the biggest examples in recent history and the most popular in modern culture is Esmeralda from Disney's Hunchback of Notre Dame adaptation. She's portrayed as this mysterious and enchanting dark-skin Romni woman who all the guys are after in, again, stereotypical and oversexualized traditional Romani clothing. I mean, they had her essentially pole dance within the first hour of the movie. This portrayal of Romani women in media actively contributes to sexual violence against them. DO NOT ENTERTAIN THAT SHIT.

Thieves, Criminals, and Baby Snatchers: This one has been around for centuries. It's rather self-explanatory so I won't heavily explain the first two. Romani people have been painted as violent outsiders for as long as they've been in Europe and other places. Blaming disease, crime, and things going missing on them was (and often still is) a European's favorite pastime. The baby-snatcher narrative is common in media, again like in Hunchback where Esmeralda was originally a white French girl in the book who was stolen and replaced Quasimodo by Romani people. Obviously this is fucking gross and a vile narrative to push. When I talk more about Azusa, I'll get into adoption more.

There are obviously more myths and stereotypes but these are the biggest ones. Now, to cleanse your eyes, have what real Romani clothing and women look like.

See the difference? Modesty is a huge aspect of Romani culture.

Culture & Society

Again, much of Romani culture is closed and has been kept alive through remaining closed. This is just what they (or scholars) have chosen to tell and what I have personally learned. It is important to remain respectful of what Romani people do and do not want to share. That said, not much is left of Indian influence in Romani culture save for the people who still celebrate Hindu holidays. However, what has survived is the concept of universal balance. Many believe that everything, or almost everything, fits into a natural place. For example, birds are supposed to fly right? It's chill to eat those if your faith allows it. But a penguin? That bitch doesn't fly, it's a freak of nature, so don't eat it. A penguin is out of balance and, therefore, bad luck. That's why Romani people traditionally don't eat hen eggs because girlie can't fly. Of course, other faiths like Muslim Roma, who have special recipes, eat hen eggs.

Like every race, every community and individual has a different faith. Most popular is Christianity and Catholicism and it has become the primary faith among Romani people. Other religions like Islam and Hinduism are also practiced. These faiths have their own set of rules that they follow alongside Romanipen, which is not written and passed down orally. Romani people even have their own patron saints: Ceferino Giménez Malla, The Virgin of Hope of Macarena who is specific to the Spanish Calé, and Kali Sara who is an Indian deity and protector of the Roma. For Christians and Catholics, they also worship the Virgin Mary and Jesus Christ.

Cleanliness is another big facet of Romani culture. Your genital area is considered impure and unclean. Because of this many Roma do not have pet cats or dogs because they lick their genitals. These rules are so strict that food must be entirely discarded should a strand of hair from these animals get into it as the whole meal is then contaminated. Additionally, tops and bottom are typically washed separately as to not mix pure and impure fabrics. This is especially true for AFAB menstruation, which is also seen as impure, as is childbirth. This is because of Romani code which is the most important part of Romanipen: pillars both honor and shame.

Like many societies, importance is placed on the men and subscribe to expected gender norms. In typical Romani home consists of a married couple, their unmarried children, at least one married son and his wife, and their children. Extended family and family in general are an integral part to Romani society so they will play active roles in a Romani child's life. It is possible to be expelled from your community, however, should you go against your community's rules or, for example, marry a gadjo. This is because, depending on the community, it would bring dishonor.

Every since the 16t century, Romani people have either made their livings or enjoyed their time through music and dance. Both still have Indian influences but have also added other elements depending of the region. For example, belly dancing is big among the Turkish Romani. Have you heard of flamenco music from Spain? Did you know that it came directly from the Romani Calé? Romani music has had a huge influence outside of the community, as it has inspired genres like bolero and jazz music.

Before I go onto how I want to see Romani culture integrated with Azusa content in the future, I want to touch up on adoption and interracial marriage. While interracial marriage is frowned upon in some communities, if a gadjo learns Romanipen and lives their life as if they are Romani, they are accepted as fully Romani. This also goes for adopted children. If they live by the rules and codes, dedicate themselves to the culture and society, then they are fully Romani.

Azusa Mukami, His Romani Identity, and What I Want To See More Of

While Diabolik Lovers does have it's problematic moments when referring to Azusa's past such as calling his community but the g-slur, it's super important to recognize how freaking awesome it is to have a Romani character who is largely not a racial caricature and not portrayed as less than simply for being Rom. He is a fully fleshed out and romancable character which is so cool.

It isn't explicitly stated whether Azusa was adopted by his community or is Rom by blood, but given the time period around the 1960's to 1980's (I recommend looking at @i-write-hurt-not-comfort's blog for more information on the Mukami's timeline) I would recommend steering FAR away from the idea of him being picked up since the baby-snatcher stereotype was and is still big. Plus, it's just so much more fun having a non-white Rom love interest. Let him be brown, y'all. Also, he's Romanian Romani, let me see him be Romanian Romani.

Speaking of which, know he's super pale but I want to see him be South Asian and anemic! It's so rare that Romani people are white and Azusa would look cute with tan or dark skin. I'd love to see more art where he has melanin. Brown and black people can be pale too due to things like anemia. Don't be afraid to make him look like a vampire that has not seen the sun in days who happens to be brown!

This man canonically loves spicy food! You know what race's food is super rich in spices and flavor? Romani food! I'd love fics where we get even a throw away line talking about him eating spicy stew or chile mole. Make him hold Ruki at knifepoint in the kitchen having him make some stuffed peppers.

Even small things like him not eating eggs or separating his tops and bottoms because that's what he learned to do as a child would be so damn nice to see. Tiny things that connect him to his race and heritage would be so cool to see in more content of him.

Final Thoughts

Romani people, each community and each individual, have such rich culture and history. They are incredibly interesting to learn about and have had so much influence over things we might not even thing about. They're not only in Europe. They're every where. South America, the US, Asia, every where. It's about time people started recognizing them outside of what governments and white supremacy teaches us and admire the resilience and beauty of the Romani people. Please do your own research and look for real Romani people to get more information from on TikTok, YouTube, hell even the damn bird app. I hope this helped whoever wanted to know more about the Romani people. Thank you sm for reading too, this was a long one.

#ren's essays #romani people #azusa mukami #diaboliklovers #Some of this information may not be fully accurate but I did my best #If you have anything to add please let me know! I love learning new things #This contained a lot of upsetting topics but it's history and that's expected #Thank you to that one person I had fun writing this

[nucifraga]

So, how old are the grandpas of the apocalypse really? Ft. - Jonah Magnus - Simon Fairchild - Peter Lukas - Maxwell Rayner

I MADE A PART 2 OF MY CHARACTER AGES RESEARCH (part 1 incl. og archives crew, 3 avatars + gerry here) after a few days of really wanting to detective the ages of this lot, i finally caved and decided to dig out the magnifying glass! same disclaimers apply! including an extra disclaimer to say that I've changed the formatting for this a lil because there was a Lot More Research done compared to part 1. Necessitated bc these mfs are OLD. (except for peter lukas. peter lukas is surprisingly young??)

(All ages are as of S1 / 2016 & the highlights are in bold if you don't feel like reading my essays)

Jonah Magnus

Age: ~216 Birth Year: ~1800

There are a few landmarks we can use, but because of how shady most are (old-ass letters) I also can’t pin down any solid dates because all the characters involved are fictional ._. Basically the only clues I got were: The Magnus Institute was established in 1818, but Jonah was old enough to travel alone to Germany and exchange letters with a friend (Albrecht von Closen) by 1816. So birthdate around ~1800? 1790?

I tried to find an ‘upper limit’ by using the life expectancy of the time since he also was able to live a ‘natural’ life until the (failed) Watcher’s Crown was carried out ‘at some point closely after February 13th, 1867’, BUT the average life expectancy of men was at most 41 years. So there was some Fairchild-esque shit going on there.

Simon Fairchild

Age: 439 - 488 Birth Year: 1528 - 1577

SPEAKING OF FAIRCHILD - sky grandpa! love him, he’s such a bastard. Anyway, in his own words, he’s had ‘an absurdly long life’. In MAG151 he says he was apprenticed to the Italian artist Tintoretto. Apprenticeships in the Renaissance started at approximately 11-14 years old & lasted for 1-8 years, and I’m assuming this was the same for the 1500s. Hopefully.

Given that Tintoretto became a renowned artist in ~1542, my estimate of the oldest Simon could be would be 14 in 1542. On the other end of the scale, Wikipedia says that his last notable work was Il Paradiso, finished from 1588–1594. I can’t find any mention of works post-1588 so this puts the absolute youngest Simon could be at 11 years old in 1588. From those two estimates, it was just a matter of mathing it out :)

Note 1: Simon mentions that his Becoming was while painting a church, likely a ceiling or high wall since he ‘should have broken his neck’, which should narrow it down – except it doesn’t, because Tintoretto painted a lot of churches x_x Note 2: I’ve just spent half an hour researching an Italian painter & art conventions in the 16th Century, which is of no relevance at all to my STEM degree in the 21st century. Simon’s age doesn’t even particularly matter because it was so long ago that the centuries quite literally blur together. This rabbit hole is incredibly fascinating, but this feels so ironically pointless, which is really, really fitting. Note 3: Simon definitely deserved to get ripped apart by the mob. His time has long, long passed lmao

Peter Lukas

Age: ~49-61 (at the very youngest; 36) Birth Year: late 1950s - late 1960s

Peter appears to be the youngest of these four – surprisingly so! – which makes it a lot simpler to pin down his age. He first meets JamesWright!Jonah between 1973 and 1996 & also he was old enough to have the option of watching TV when he was a child. TV became common in UK homes in the 1960s, so his birthdate at the earliest may be in the late 1950s/1960s.

However, he’s known Jonah as ‘Elias’ for most of their acquaintance by late 2018, meaning that they met at the earliest 1975 (21 years before 1996), but was probably more like 1980ish or later. I don’t think he would have met him too long after becoming an avatar some time after he became ‘old enough to run away’, which I’m assuming means he became aware of the Lonely when teenager-ish.

But spending some time on the Tundra before meeting other avatars makes sense for the Lonely, and so my vague estimate of his birth year would be late 1950s - late 1960s. I don’t think that his birthdate was anywhere later, though it is possible that it could have been as late as 1980 (if he began running away when very young & was introduced to ‘James Wright’ very early into avatar-hood), if incredibly unlikely.

Note: My ‘very youngest’ estimate for Peter Lukas is… younger than my estimate for Mike Crew’s age. I find this inordinately funny.

Maxwell Rayner

Age: 357 Birth Date: 8 November 1658

I have excellent news for Rayner! Good ol’ Jonny has made his original body Edmond Halley. A very famous person with a wikipedia page of his own that conveniently states his date of birth :)

Thanks, Jonny.

Rayner died in February 2017 at the age of 358 years 3 months 2 days, though he did spend a decent amount of time host-less. Unlike Gerard Keay, I’m unsure of how ‘alive’ he was during this time, so I’m just going to count it as ‘alive’-time because it means I get precise numbers for the first time since I started researching character ages!

#tma spoilers #tma #the magnus archives #jonah magnus #elias bouchard #james wright #character ages #simon fairchild #maxwell rayner #edmond halley #peter lukas #tma research #tma headcanons

[v4voracity]

HALF A HEART - COD characters x Poltergeist!reader

POLTERGEIST COD AU

⥇❥"Reader" is a literal ghost, AFAB reader and referred primarily as to as "you", sometimes explicitly referred to as a woman, implied to be British and implied to have died in the 1500s/16th century, though the location isn’t relevant for much other than attempted historical accuracy with her death/why she’s in England. Reader is also not said to be of any skin tone or ethnicity, just that she was *likely* born in England. Reader is from a time when afab people weren't commonly educated and canonically has slight trouble reading and learning after her death since she can't access books or learning materials and had to self-teach herself to read and write after death where she couldn't ask for help, this will probably change though after she meets 141. Said information is slightly relevant to the plot, though I can make an alternate version if people want an amab/gender neutral reader :)

also roach is canonically part of this and has little antenna attachments to his helmet because i said so

  ⥇❥Word Count: 4096, excluding warnings and text above the cut.

⥇❥CONTENT WARNING FOR:

↪ Technically age gap? Reader was born and died long before any cod character ↪ possibly historically inaccurate as i was unfortunately not alive in the 1500s nor most of the following time periods ↪ possibly incorrect depictions of a ‘poltergeist’, as reader is an amalgamation of different types of ghosts/folklore (i mainly just didn't want to use the term ‘ghost’ because it’d be confusing with Ghost the character) ↪ possibly OOC characters ↪ american author writing europeans ↪reader is (basically) rasputin with their death ↪ slight mentions of religion or religious themes (mainly about the afterlife, existence of heaven/hell, and brief mentions of witch trials which were mostly religiously motivated.) ↪graphic description of how reader died (witch trials, so think salem witch trials kind of graphic)

let me know if i missed anything or should edit the content warnings!

Link to main masterlist - Link to HALF A HEART sub-list

You have been warned, scroll at your own risk.

Let’s get things straight. You are, for all intents and purposes, dead.

Deader than a doornail, in-fact, you’ve been dead for almost.. 500 years now? Well, you're rounding slightly but nobody cares for the exact amount of time.

Now, that is a long time to be dead for… Well, a long time to be dead but still conscious; a spirit, ghost, apparition, whatever you wanted to call it. If it weren’t for the fact you were more-so apparition than person, you’d almost say it’s like being alive and immortal for longer than god (or genetics, you weren’t picky) ever intended. 

And being ‘alive’ for so long is very boring; especially now that the deep-seeded anger in your heart has faded, those who wronged you long gone and their kin far too distant from them for you to ever wish ill-will towards them. Especially now that the fear you felt, the horrific terror you felt being escorted to your improper grave and the existential dread that hung heavy when you revived, only to realize you hadn’t survived nor been healed for a second chance. No, you were dead; rejected by both heaven and hell, not even worthy for eternal damnation. The only upside to this was that you were still capable of interacting with the living world; more than you could say for the very, very, VERY small number of ghouls you had met in your time of unliving. Apparently you were a bit unusual, you being far more capable and capable of manipulating the living world than the 'run-of-the-mill' ghost.

That being said, your current behavior, which was following around some hunky military men like a lovesick maiden, was totally excusable…

…It wasn’t creepy, no, you weren’t being improper. You were totally just... curious. It couldn’t have been the fact that you died unwed— a pure virgin, hardly having even engaged in romantic acts, as you were devout in your chaste nature. I mean, surely your absolute devotion which led to you never even kissing a man or woman, holding hands or lying with someone earned you a little justification to do… whatever you were doing right now.

Okay, maybe it was a bit creepy. But dying a without so much as ever having ONE cute little date with heated cheeks, bashful giggles, and butterflies in your stomach as your hands brushed each others— FOLLOWED by being forced to go entirely unperceived much less feeling any sort of physical contact or verbal interaction for A COUPLE CENTURIES makes this somewhat understandable.

It’s not like you were really DOING anything, (because, again, that was a wee-bit hard in your current state) you’ve just kind of been following this guy around?

(You followed him around because you overheard people refer to him as ‘Ghost’ and as an actual ghost you found that a little funny)

Then that led to you following his team around. You had, somewhat, messed with the men— not much, mainly flickering lights, closing doors, and moving objects slightly.

There had been slight complaints, but not much indicating they knew they were facing a lonely, dead girl who died unfairly supernatural danger in the form of a poltergeist with abnormally strong powers. Just assumptions that ‘the wiring was faulty’, or that ‘someone must’ve left a window open’, sometimes they just assume someone knocked something over (despite nobody being near said knocked object). Oh, and your favorite was that ‘some stupid recruits moving shit’— speaking of which— the guys you followed were all pretty high-ranking from your understanding and occasionally trained recruits. That was cool in its own right, but it was especially great for you because you could lob stuff at them and get some poor recruit in trouble. It was fun.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t fun enough to keep you entertained. Now, given when you were born and raised it wasn’t a surprise that you weren’t particularly that literate. Your brain (long gone and returned to the ground) wasn’t even physical or attached to you anymore, so it wasn’t a surprise that learning things was often hard for you(something you hated in death, as learning things would help pass the time if it weren't frustrating and near impossible both because you couldn’t access physical hobbies or items like books AND because your brain—or lack thereof— simply didn’t take to information like it used to), but you knew enough of written English to make out most newspapers and documents. Despite that, you had very little clue of the strange ciphers and terms used by the men, even though you had remained mainly around the military base they were staying in for a few months. 

…That was until recently, when you decided you were curious enough to try and actually learn about what they’re doing. You were currently following this guy— Captain Price, you think— because from what you knew (as a woman who died in the middle ages, uneducated, illiterate, dying fairly young by today's standards anyways and having lived without ever partaking in any wars or battles and not ever bothering to ask about any) he was the highest rank of the team, followed by that ‘Ghost’ guy you originally followed (he’s called a lieutenant, a word you hated writing or reading because it was so damn hard to spell or even look at), then this ‘Soap’ fella (A sergeant, another word you weren’t a fan of) and then this ‘Gaz’ bloke (Who was apparently also a sergeant, but he was the second? So he was lower? Why did they need two? And why was one rank worse than the other? You didn’t know and frankly found it stupid.) There were also these other people; Shadow Company or something, you didn’t really get it because the guy who they most frequently talked to from that company was white as a sheet, but whatever.

Anyways, recently you found out that while wandering wasn’t an issue for you (you weren’t ever bound to a particular area, probably because your body, or whatever remained of it, was far from where you died, and you couldn’t really remember where you were when you died so you weren’t particularly attached) it was very hard for you to follow after the ‘vehicles’ they used. Sometimes they used these wheeled inventions called ‘cars’ (which were kinda like the horses, carts, and carriages of your time but not shitty). They also had these things— called ‘helicopters’ or something similar with a different name (again, you didn't know why they made things so complicated but whatever) that were able to take them anywhere by air. Pretty cool if it weren’t for the fact it made following them anywhere exceptionally difficult. So you had to go about a different method if you wanted to actually follow them anywhere.

Possession. 

Not necessarily like the kind you’d seen in a ghost-related movie you watched over an unwitting couple’s shoulder. It was more so just somewhat attaching yourself to someone, letting part of yourself (probably your soul, if you actually had one) attach to theirs, letting them become a tether into the physical plane. The realm of the living. If you pushed it far you could absolutely do like they do in the movies, but you found that kind of scary since you didn’t know how much of your soul was required for that or if you could be exorcized like in the movies. You really only tethered yourself to someone when you first transitioned into… whatever you were now.

 A wraith, at the time, aggressive and vengeful against the man who accused you, the town that raised you then gazed at you hungrily— blaming you for their sins. Calling you a temptress for the beauty you acquired with your maturation, something you were once proud about turned into something you abhorred.

At one point you even felt festering hatred towards the family that raised you. A mother who birthed you only to denounce birthing you, claiming a devil implanted you as a demon of the night that’d ruin their village and took the milk meant for sons, your elder brothers. A father, one who doted on you before as his precious only daughter and youngest, turning his head; unable to watch as you were tied to the pyre and lit ablaze— a man who was cowardly and evasive. The siblings of yours that you grew with— were close with, were cared for by, were raised by! 

All for them to pretend they had nothing to do with you. Or to join the crowd’s jeering turned cheers as you sobbed, salty tears unable to extinguish the fast-growing embers. Not one of them dared to correct the executioner’s methods. Witches, despite stigma, were usually hung or otherwise given quick deaths prior to the burning; but you… 

Oh, poor, poor you. Things weren’t quite done correctly. You were still alive when they tied you to the post, surrounding you with flammables and letting the flames lick up your body. Catatonic, unable to beg for mercy, for them to kill you properly. Though, even if you were able to speak, you probably wouldn’t beg. You were desperate to survive. When they butchered you like the farm animals you’d skinned many times before with your dear-old-dad. Failed to cut the correct places and left you bleeding, conscious but paralyzed in pain and fear as they dragged your body to a make-shift wooden post in the town center. Never let you burn fully, the triumph leaving their voices when they still saw you, struggling— eyes still moving, hyperventilating as your arms thrashed trying to break the burnt ropes, paralysis spell broken by desperation— still living, still struggling, still surviving.

They didn’t have the courage to finish burning you either.

It'd be a poor choice if you were a witch, since burning was supposed to be done to stop them from cursing people…

Actually, now that you’re thinking about it, maybe you were a witch? Maybe you had somehow sold your soul, and with no soul to give you could enter the afterlife? Maybe that’s why you felt a path of fury when you died? You felt wronged and cursed people for nearly half the first century you found yourself un-living.

Regardless, the cowards backed away from you with wide eyes, and eventually you felt the ropes break, your body barely reacting to what you wanted it to do, stumbling around aimlessly despite your efforts.

All you could do was scramble out the village, betrayed and never wanting to return.

Eventually, you fell to a crawl, dragging yourself through the grass, fingernails caked with a mix of dirt and blood, as if your near-corpse was trying to create a shallow grave every time you scraped them across the ground…

Somehow, you ended up falling into a river. You don’t know if you fell  during your crawls or if someone put you in there, just that it was excruciatingly cold and your lungs, shrunken and shriveled by the heat of your incomplete incineration couldn’t get any air. You tried pulling yourself out but you were too far gone. Even then, ‘til the point your eyes closed you never gave up. Maybe you were so against dying your soul remained, even when your body went.

Honestly, you weren’t ever really sure which of those injuries eventually lead to your drawn-out and overdue death, but you didn’t care. What you did care about, upon re-awakening, was revenge, hearing the blood-curdling screams of those who wronged you, those who feigned ignorance, those who lied, and those who threw you out when false accusations came. You were swift in it, tethering yourself to everyone in town, attaching small pieces of yourself meant for one purpose: tracking.

No matter where they went they were damned, your violent-haze, the cravings for others to bear a fraction of your misfortune. You were like a tsunami, quick to approach with little warning, only the quick recession of water to warn those who’d be affected. (Not that your victims knew what a train was, but it was like the equivalent of seeing a train barreling toward you and being unable to move, only able to process what's about to happen.) And you were even swifter to strike, small misfortunes not enough to quell that furious fire inside you— brighter than those that scalded you. All ended in what you thought were well-deserved deaths.

But, that wasn’t what you’d be using them for. Not today, and hopefully never again.

You decided you’d turn up the heat a bit and have these men notice that they were, in fact, haunted and not just clumsy or forgetful. You had an easier time manipulating things when no-one was around, or when someone was alone. Easy prey for the ghoulish you, even if most of these guys could probably have easily broken you in half when you were still alive. It sounded dumb to give yourself away, since they might try to send you back to the rest you used to crave upon first re-animating, but it was necessary to tether yourself.

So… here you were! Fucking around and moving things, only to be met with just minor annoyance by this guy. ‘Price’, for some unknown reason, just seemed minorly peeved by your interactions, not convinced they were supernatural.

You moved his chair and desk(which was pretty hard with how heavy it was) and this guy just groaned about how his superiors treated his office however they wanted when they needed something.

You sent his papers flying, stacks of paperwork sorted neatly into piles of done and yet-to-be looked at, all flying. You flung the pen he used too, sending a blotch of ink onto the floor with the papers, permanently soaking them. Minor annoyance, didn’t even say anything. Just… grumbled. 

Hell, you toppled over a WHOLE bookshelf, loud thud echoing as it fell to the ground and all its contents scattered. And this guy? Grumbling about how the flooring was uneven!

If you had a physical body, you’d be beating your head against a wall right now. Seriously, it was frustrating!

You guessed you had done something correctly though, as he seemed annoyed enough to leave his office and go for a walk. Throughout said walk you continued throwing items and flying through his body, which usually caused people immense discomfort, sometimes to the point of causing panic attacks or full-on freak-outs. All that? Yeah, met with a “Bit chilly today.” or a “Someone outta close th’ windows.”

You were offended, to say the least.

Now, you were in a common room with several other people, including those guys, Gaz and Soap, who now talked to the Price fella. It was harder to interact with things, especially with so many people in broad daylight, in light in general. But you surprised yourself when your frustrations and slight anger led to the lightbulbs in the room flickering several times before simultaneously combusting into sparks and broken glass, all electronics—mainly the radios strapped to almost every soldier in the room—  with speakers blaring loud static as you flung the nearest object, a bench that you didn't initially notice was bolted to the fucking ground out from it and towards Price, and the other two who surrounded him. 

‘Oops..?’

Okay, maybe you weren’t entirely devoid of anger and wrathful vengeance, but you’d like to think your self-control was a lot better than when you first died. You did have around… well, about 400 other years to learn some self-restraint and become slightly less blood-thirsty?

ANYWAYS; Lucky for you they all managed to dodge that heavy and fast approaching bench! good thing they were all trained soldiers who were always on guard Oh, and even better everyone in the room now looked at the uprooted bench with wide eyes and terrified expressions! So… mission accomplished?

Well, sort of?

“The hell?!” Everyone in the room backed towards whatever wall was nearest to them, behind unmoved furniture, or otherwise tactically covered positions as quick as they could, many (including the poor sod you’d been following and the rest of his team) having their guns ready and aimed at the entrances or near the uprooted bench.

…Yeah, you didn’t really wanna deal with this.

So you floated off, through the walls pretending your problems didn’t exist, as you usually did.

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

 You came across something pretty interesting, that Ghost guy was doing some strange hand gestures to this other masked fella (why was everyone here covered almost head to in something?). For a moment you thought they were trying to summon something before remembering that the military used hand signals and stuff. 

Anyways, you now had a new guy to follow! He looked pretty cool and he had these little things hanging off his helmet that remind you of a bug. Something… was slightly off with this guy though. You could’ve SWORN he was occasionally glancing over at you, or your general area. Ghost, who you couldn’t really tell much expression-wise due to him also wearing a mask, seemed to lift an eyebrow. Or furrow them. You didn’t know, you just saw his forehead area shift a bit under the mask. 

“You 'lright?” He turned and glanced over at you, where his bug-like friend kept glancing. Bug-fella looked over at you for a few more moments before shaking his head and gesturing at Ghost again. Ghost seemingly returns to his resting facial position and glances back towards your general direction, not quite as spot on as his friend was. “Y' just keep looking over there, ‘was wondering why.” 

Ghost loses interest quickly, turning away from where his friend was staring, resuming his silent communication with the still-unnamed lad, hand gestures becoming far too fast for you to even comprehend what they were doing even if you did understand what the gestures meant. After a short while of just floating around and watching them, Ghost gives the shorter man a light bump to the shoulder with his fist (seemingly friendly?) and turns to leave. “See y’ round.” 

It’s just you and Bug-boy now. The room empty, and his eyes (not that you can see them, he’s wearing a helmet and goggles that are practically solid with how heavy the glass is tinted) are aimed directly at you. You float over, hovering a good foot or two off the floor because the ground and gravity were for cowards, and stop a few inches away from him. He reaches a hand up towards you, only for it to quickly phase through your arm, then your torso, then back into the air. He’s startled by the feeling, you can tell, shivering as goosebumps raise on his arm and his hair stands on end, you can tell because of his sleeves being bunched up at his elbows. 

“Sorry.” you say, not even sure if he’d hear you. Maybe this was some weird coincidence and he couldn’t actually see you. Though, to your utter surprise and slight delight he kind of waves it off, making gestures (full body ones this time, not the hand-signals you couldn’t quite understand) that you could interpret as meaning ‘not to worry about it’. Your eyes widened, before breaking into a big grin. “Wait, wait, wait, you can see me? You heard me— can hear me?!” He nods, looking at you, observing, then gesturing with his hands again.

You.. feel a little bad that you don’t understand whatever military signs this must be, tilting your head and frowning. “I… I don’t understand. Sorry, I don’t know much about the military signals or whatever you were using. The code signs and words you guys use weren’t around when I lived. Or died.” He seems a little confused, then brings out a rectangle from his pocket— a phone, new invention and quite useful. It lights up as he puts in the code and opens something, pressing at the glass. 

After a moment he turns it towards you. It… takes you a little to adjust to the brightness (and to read the small letters, given your eyesight and low-literacy). “Give me a second, it takes me a minute to read.” In your peripheral he nods, though you don't move your gaze away from the screen.

“That’s fine, not many people know sign language. It’s not a military signal, just a way I communicate since I’m mute.” You read his words aloud, relatively slowly and he nods after you’ve read it; confirming you’ve read it correctly. 

You glance back up at him. “Mute… So you… can’t speak? Right?” Another nod, then he turns the phone back to himself, rapidly pressing the screen and turning it back again. You read again, “What are you? How are you floating, and why’d my hand go through? Why were you watching us?” You hum, floating away from him slightly, sinking slightly to a sitting position, though still remaining affixed in the air and not sitting on an actual chair.

“Well, I’m dead. I guess you could call me a spirit, spectral, a ghost…” you chuckle a bit at the last one. “Well, maybe not that last one, it seems your friend already occupies it.”  You lean forward again, nearly doing a backflip in the air before stopping in a lying position, holding your head in your hands. “I guess me being dead physically but alive… consciously, or spiritually I guess..? Resulted in me being incorporeal, thus not really touchable by people or gravity.” He nods at your words before motioning for you to continue when you pause.

You avert your eyes. “Well, watching people is all I usually can do. Incorporeal and all. I’m not sure how you can see me when I’m not manifested or tethered to you, but it’s nice…” Smiling sheepishly, you can only hope this guy— the only person you’ve actually talked to in a long, long, time— isn’t grimacing under his mask. You hesitate before reaching out towards him, running a finger down his throat in thought, forgetting it'd just phase through. “Maybe it's because you can't speak? It's not a sense but it's like maybe because you don't have one thing your other senses are better? But back to your prior questions. Being dead is… boring. All I can really do is fuck with people and watch stuff. You and your friend, Ghost, and his other… teammates are just what have caught my interest recently.”

He nods and trots over to a nearby bench, you grimace thinking about the mischief you caused slightly earlier by throwing a bench at the captain. Let’s hope your bug-friend doesn’t overhear that and stop talking to you. “What’s your name?” He types, and turns the phone to you, a single word there. “Roach? Like… the bug?” your mouth quirks into a crooked smile and you giggle, flicking the antenna like attachments to his helmet. “Fitting, you got the antennas and everything!” 

Floating down onto the seat, you try your best to sit on it, your bum and thighs slightly phasing through the seat but it's fine. ‘Roach’ begins typing on his phone again, having it set on his thigh so you can watch while he types. It was also probably just in case someone came in or saw him and so he wouldn’t look crazy turning his phone around to nothing (from other people’s perspectives).

“People can’t usually see you?”

You sigh and lean back, accidentally reclining into the wall and to the other side before realizing he probably won’t be able to hear you if you speak. “Oops, I forgot I’d phase through. Uh, yeah they usually can’t unless I’m actively haunting them and choosing to. It takes a lot of energy to do that though, so…” He nods and hovers his fingers over the phone, thinking for a moment.

“What's your name?”

You hum, thinking for a moment. You... haven't had to introduce yourself to anyone in centuries.

"This... well, it's a little embarrassing, but I can't remember."

"Why don't I call you 'Poltergeist' for now then, since Ghost is taken?" You smile at him, your cheeks feel like they've heated up slightly, but not from the lingering burn you got after your death, no, it was the burn of happiness. Giddy from this guy giving you a name, almost like you were a stray. You shouldn't be this happy, clinging to him and internally deeming him your new best friend, but you were.

Your undeath began a new chapter today, now living as 'Poltergeist' (at least until you remembered your name) with your new ghost-inclined friend Roach.

#cod x reader #ghost reader #light angst #cod #call of duty #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #captain price #reader insert #fem reader #kyle gaz garrick #gary roach sanderson #roach cod #ghost cod #soap cod #task force 141 #task force x reader #x reader #cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty modern warfare #cod modern warfare

[nordickies]

Hello, you are my finnish expert. IMPORTANT QUESTION,, is Tino Väinämöinen a real name? Or should I change it to something else in my fic, xx

Hello! To simply answer your question: No, it's not a real name

Väinämöinen is not a name in Finland, instead, it's the name of a primary character in Finnish mythology - the old wise wizard. It's like naming any of the Scandinavians Thor or Odin, it's too on the nose. The only information I could find is that Väinämöinen is the second or third name of 20 Finnish men. And it's definitely not a last name! So, if that kind of thing bothers you, I would recommend changing it

Väinämö, on the other hand, is a legit Finnish last name! And Väinö is an extremely common first or second name. Those would be more natural name options for Finland

Little fun fact, if you have done any research on Finland/Finnish people, you might have noticed a lot of the last names end in the suffix -nen (Korhonen, Järvinen, Häkkinen, Räikkönen). In Eastern Finland, surnames began to appear in the early 16th century, making Finland the first Nordic country to do so. But surnames weren't required by law until the 19th century. Eastern Finnish surnames often contained the name of the founder of the family (which could be ancient name by that point, since the surname tradition was so old) or people derived their last name from surrounding nature. The suffix -nen is used in Finnish language to express affection, so Eastern Finnish last names are techically terms of endearment, which is kind of cute

Surnames arrived later in West Finland, where the last names got the suffix - la, usually after the farm or house name (Rantala, Mattila, Ojala). Before the arrival of surnames, most people had patronyms! (Kallenpoika, Erikinpoika, Juhanpoika) But the trend didn't continue after the introduction of required surnames. Most people were drawn to take names inspired by nature, in the Eastern style. Thus the suffix -nen is so common! And immediate give-away that a surname is of Finnish origin

Giving Finland a Swedish last name is not wrong either, in a historical setting at least. Especially nobility, clergy and bourgeoisie had names that derived from Swedish culture. However, lots of people Finnishized their last names at the turn of the 20th century, meaning they translated their Swedish surnames directly into Finnish - motivated by their interest in "rediscovering lost" Finnish culture and rebelling against the ongoing Russification of the time. It was done by both poor farmers and intellectuals alike due to national campaigns. Nevertheless, there are still lots of Swedish surnames in Finland

So, to make things confusing, Finland has three predominant surname traditions: the West Finnish, the East Finnish and Swedish-Finnish

Tino is a name found in Finland, but it's not of Finnish origin. Instead, it comes from Italy, being a nickname of names such as Constantino, Valentino, etc. Using it in a modern setting (21st century) is acceptable, but doesn't really make sense in historical fiction. Instead, you can use Timo - Which is the 2nd most common male Finnish name and very old as it's the Finnish version of "Timotheus"

Finland has a lot of Scandinavian influence, so you can find names like Mathias, Mikael, Johannes, Elias, Emil, etc on the most popular names list. But I would highly recommend checking out native Finnish names because there are many of them! They're unique, and not found anywhere else in the world - and Finnish people prefer to give Finnish names to their children. Also, middle name(s) are basically a norm in Finland. So if you're trying to come up with a human name for Fin, consider giving him a second name. In official documents, you're required to write down which name is your "kutsumanimi" (calling name). It is the name by which a person is normally identified in conversation, their prefered name

Also, Finland is the land of nicknames! People rarely use their given names with friends and family, it can be seen as too formal. If your name is Tino, you might use nicknames like Tintsa, Timpe or Tinke. If your name is Timo, you're guaranteed to be called Timppa

#hws finland #culture/history stuff

[demetris-cocksleeve]

Hello!! I'm fairly new to the twilight fandom and your blog is one of the bests i've ever seen so far! So, if you're comfortable/not buzy, could you please do the volturi kings (separated or poly, both are fine!!) reacting to the reader being a goth, i imagined since they're ancient beings, the goths that invaded the Roman Empire would be the first thing coming to mind lol

Once again, your blog is definitely a favorite now, so i might just give myself a name for future requests, i think 🦇 would be fine if no one's using it :)

Have a good morning, afternoon or/and evening!

-🦇

(A/n: Stawppppp you're makin me blushhh🙈 I definitely recommend @kiiwiigii (her kinktober is 🥵 and her fluff fics will literally rot your teeth) and (she doesn't write often, but she has an AMAZING NSFW mini series called Uses of a Secretarial Desk👀:) @alecvolturi)

(A/n: I went with headcanons. I hope that's okay with you!)

(A/n: Also- It's a bit difficult for me to write the kings since I personally don't vibe w/ em, so I hope you like it😭😅)

Word Count: -

Summary: Request above

Warnings: None

Age Rating: None

Volturi Kings x Gothic! GN! Reader

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

General:

Firstly, the Volturi are known art lovers so while the Visigoth sacking Rome might be what the word is acquitted to off the top of their heads, they would probably attune it moreso to the gothic art style of the mid 12th - 16th centuries

This being said, gothic makeup is VASTLY different from the painted arches and quatrelobes of the art period

You'll definitely have some explaining to do

You'll have to excuse them. They're not invested in human fads and expressionistic styles

Now on to the individual reactions/thoughts:

Aro:

He definitely finds your style interesting

Not in a judgmental aunt "interesting...😒" but an intrigued interest

He likes to watch you do your makeup, letting out the occasional amused "hm" when you do something unconventional with your look (grey contour, painting your neck black, extreme eyeliner, thin angled brows, etc.)

As for the music?

Doesn't really get it but at the same time does? Idk how to explain my thought process

He basically vibes with the lyrics and meaning but sometimes the instrumentals are hit or miss

He really enjoys the instrumentals that are more spooky/calm to the ones that go harder

Overall, if you're happy, who's he to say anything?

Caius:

Do you want fanon or accurate?😅

Fanon:

He might give you a strange look or cock an eyebrow when you go all out with your look but he silently appreciates how much effort it takes to perfect it

If he doesn't like the song playing, he'll either grab your phone and skip it or just leave the room

Canon:

This man is throwing shade left, right, and center lol

It /is/ all in good fun though

He's a bitch, you knew that from your first meeting

"Are you sure that's how you want to go out today?"

"Interesting attire, dear... *side eye*"

He doesnt hate it, don't get him wrong

He just finds it... odd

Out of all the kings, he's probably the most art geek of them all and is stuck on the name of your style

"Goth? That is not gothic, pet... *cue middle ages art speech*"

Openly criticizes the music

Either bans it from being played around him or loudly complains about it

Marcus:

Is the most vocal about your appearance

Constantly praising how you look that day

He got a second chance at his life partner. He's gonna be damned if he doesn't appreciate everything about you even down to the barely-different-who-is-he-kidding-they're-the-same-as-the-ones-you-already-own shoes that you just bought and are excited about

It's not even him lying either

He GENUINELY loves your look, simoyl for the fact that 1) he has seen you get ready... that takes skill and 2) you clearly enjoy the style and seeing you confident and secure in yourself is enough for him

He can take or leave the music, but he will keep that to himself until he dies (get it? Bc he's immortal?)

#volturi kings #aro volturi x reader #caius volturi x reader #marcus volturi x reader #aro volturi #caius volturi #marcus volturi

[blackphanto]

The Hotel is basically Purgatory!

For context I was making a theory about how humans in the Vivzieverse may use Indulgence to get into Heaven until I noticed the similarity between Purgatory and the hotel and now I'm rewriting this.

A bit of history

Back in the 16th century, the Catholic Church 'found' a way for people to undergo a less severe punishment than eternal damnation in Hell and called it Indulgence. Early on you had to perform a certain action to earn said Indulgence; like repeating a prayer, going on pilgrimage or just performing overall good deeds. Yet as time went by, folks were able to buy Indulgence. They became so commercialized that Protestant theologians made it their goal to abolish them ASAP!

The whole point of an Indulgence was 'to reduce the amount of time spent in penance' this was pretty vague, until the idea of Purgatory was introduced. Purgatory is defined as a passing state after physical death for purifying the soul to be let into Heaven. The souls in question were of those who died in the State of Grace. Despite popular believe it was more of a process rather than a place. But once it became one, it was associated with fire therefore you literally needed to boil the hell out of a person to make them holy. Purgatory isn't permanent in most religion who believe in it. Souls were only residing there temporarily, almost like another place that wants to achieve the same out come. I'm of course talking about...

THE HAZBIN HOTEL

The whole fkn reason why Charlie made this hotel is so that souls could check-in in Hell and -out in Heaven. No one believes in that idea, such as how Purgatory isn't fkn canon in most big religion. Coincidence? I think not! This was intentional! The reason why Purgatory was never mentionned is bc of that's what the hotel is, Vivziepop's own interpretation of that passing state. The way Sera is refuses to support Charlie's idea is how Purgatory isn't accepted in most doctrines. Yet, Sir (Saint?) Pentious got redeemed.

The way I see it play out is that Emily would do anything in her power to get the word out that redemption is possible (sinners can be purified), but would be silenced by other angels such as Sera and maybe even Lute. And since Lilith will be back to try and put an end to this, the cast would have to go above and beyond to protect Charlie's dream. This could maybe happen in a fight and I could see it being interupted with a portal from a runaway Emily announcing that redemption IS possible, she'd be stopped by Lute for example maybe stabbing her and pushing her body in Hell, but at least they'd know that Charlie's dream is a reality. Fast forward a few months or less and way more sinners have turned winners. This would give Heaven no then choice than to officially accept the hotel and let it become a Purgatory for those who seek redemption and are ready to change.

#a24 #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #hazbin headcanons #hazbin hotel season 1 #hazbin hotel theory #Hazbin Hotel season 2 #hazbin theory #Purgatory #hellaverse #vivzieverse #charlie morningstar #hazbin charlie #lilith #sera #emily hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute

[dresshistorynerd]

Hello!! Your blog has been a delight to browse through. I have a question, it may seem obvious but I'm just making sure- with codpieces, did the "cods" actually go inside the little pouch, or did the codpieces sort of just go over where they were located and people's "cods" were tucked back somewhere else? I assume the former, but the construction of some of the ones I've seen in portraits (very upturned) looks like it'd be uncomfortable.

Semi-related question, I've got a couple of characters that, for one reason or another, wear codpieces without being in possession of a "cod". Would that influence how it would lay on the body in any way? Would it be wildly inaccurate to suggest theirs were stuffed with cotton or something?

Again, your blog is very cool and I appreciate finding another historical clothing enjoyer :]

Thank you! :) It makes me happy to hear you've enjoyed this blog!

I'm not sure if you've already seen my post about the construction of the joined hose in which I also touch on the origins of the codpiece. Shortly the early cod pieces in late 15th century were invented to cover the genital area comfortably, when the hose were relatively stiff and very skintight.

Looking at the early codpieces, which were basically just a small piece of fabric tied on on the crotch it does make a lot of sense, clearly the it held the genitals inside it. Like in this 1470s painting.

The men's fashion where they didn't wear hems and only very tight hose was mainly used by young fashionable men, who were not nobles, so soldiers, musicians, Venetian gondoliers etc. At the time valuables were generally tied to the belt in pouches, and especially when it comes to soldiers, who would also have knives and swords hanging on their hips, not having a protective layer of a skirt left their genitals quite vulnerable to hanging objects. Which is probably why they started padding their codpieces. The codpiece started to be made from two pieces of fabric making it more shapely and less flat, but it wasn't yet very extreme. There is padding but it's still easy to see how it would hold the genitals.

In 16th century it very quickly though turned very extreme. It became huge, what the French called appropriately a baguette. It was heavily padded, even boned to keep the shape.

There's not much if any codpieces left from the time, so it's hard to say how they were specifically constructed. To me it seems quite probable, that they were still functionally the same as the earlier codpieces with a little pouch for the genitals and the rest being padding. There's a pretty interesting theory though about these extreme codpieces. At the time there was a big syphilis epidemic in Europe and they put all kinds of herbs and remedies on the genitals and wrapped the penis in bandages with the remedies. So the theory suggests that these baguettes may have been developed to hold and protect bandaged genitals, protect the fashion fabrics from the staining remedies and also obscure that someone had the very stigmatized infection by making a very padded penis a fashion. There's a really interesting paper about it, which also goes into detail about the codpiece.

So the genitals were held inside the codpiece one way or another. And to answer the other question, padding the codpieces was already standard practice so padding it a little bit more if one didn't have outward genitals like that is very believable to me. In fact, people would even hide some valuables inside their very large and padded codpieces. Even in the earliest codpieces made from flat fabric you could easily add a little extra stuffing to the under-breeches or the chemise tucked in to the hose. Though I'd doubt they'd use cotton as padding, since cotton wasn't readily available at the time in Europe. (It was all imported from Asia, since it didn't grow in Europe and Europeans didn't know how to weave cotton, so it was used on very specific purposes, like lining doublets.) More likely wool, linen or horsehair.

#cw: genitals mentioned #answers #historical fashion #dress history #fashion history #men's historical fashion #renaissance fashion #medieval fashion

[arliedraws]

I hope this isn't overstepping, feel free to ignore me, butI have a collection of references and inspiration I use when imaging HP fashion here: https://pin.it/6EDnHWClw

Since the WW split off Muggle society in the early 1700's (and WW society secretive and insular before that) I think they wouldn't adapt to local fashions as quick as prior to the statute. JKR based the robes off of depictions of wizards and witches in media (so stars on robes, pointy hats, very Halloween) but when I researched those depictions they seem to be based off what the educated men in medieval times would wear (i.e. the clergy). So I started there (11th - 18th century in Western Europe) for wizard clothing.

There's two types of the stereotypical witch I've seen depicted. The medieval witch/evil queen variety that looks to me like she's wearing a kirtle and dress/overdress on top for that quintessential medieval-lady look. Then there's the wicked Halloween witch depictions which seem to be based on 16th century women's dresses, with stays, apron, stockings, buckled shoes, etc. The Elizabethan look, basically, which was around the time witch hunts were very popular, so common depictions of witches would have been portraying women and what they would have worn for the time. 😅

Anyway, did JKR intend for historical accuracy when she imagined everyone at Hogwarts in maxi dresses, I mean robes and pointy hats? Maybe? I think she was basing it off of how witches and wizards were depicted when she was growing up, the campy, Halloween sort of depictions.

But I like to look at what inspired those depictions and start thinking about how an extremely secretive and insular community got to the point where even their adult men seem to not know how to wear trousers. I like a mix of 18th - 19th century clothing, as Muggleborns would have brought the Muggle fashions into the WW. The Weasley kids wear jeans, but as adults they seem to switch to robes. I like to think breeches and hose are probably worn by men, instead of trousers/jeans.

I love the houppelande silhouette, personally, so putting that on both wizards and witches in HP, especially the traditional pureblood ones that probably inherited ancestor's clothing) is a hobby for me.

Love this discussion! Not overstepping at all!!!! I don’t have a good response atm so I’ll share around :)

#wizarding robes

[irithnova]

Naadam - and how Mongolia celebrates it.

What is Naadam in Mongolian culture and how would Mr Mongolia celebrate it?

Naadam is a traditional sports festival in Mongolia. It includes Mongols adorning themselves in national dress, mounted soldiers in uniform, music, dancers, and of course, the "Three Manly Sports":

Horse riding, wrestling and archery!

Naadam is a 2000 year old event, however, the term "Naadam" was coined in the 13th century by Chinggis Khaan (according to the secret history of the Mongols) and has been celebrated ever since.

Naadam used to be a preparation/practices/training for war. Competitions such as this would take place just before major battles in order for the war commanders to select which soldiers would be in which division.

Individuals who demonstrated exceptional strength, speed, and flexibility in wrestling, keen eyesight and precise hand-orientation in spear-throwing and archery, and also patience and skill in horse training/horse racing were carefully selected during the competitions.

Naadam takes place around mid-July in the heat of the summer, and is considered one of the biggest and most important festivals in Mongol culture along with Tsaagan Sar.

National Naadam is celebrated in the capital - Ulaanbaatar, in the national sports stadium. However it's not just restricted to the city! It takes place all across the country.

The Naadam festival kicks off with a ceremonial transfer of the symbolic "Nine Banners of the Great Mongol Empire" from the Government House to the Naadam stadium, escorted by honorary guards.

After a speech by the president or a representative, the games officially commence. In Ulaanbaatar, the capital, the event assumes a grand scale, drawing the most talented wrestlers, horse trainers, and archers from all corners of Mongolia!

As I've previously mentioned, Naadam takes place in the countryside too! In the countryside, herders journey to towns not only to partake in the festivities but also to reunite with friends and relatives, they may not have seen in a while.

Mongolia also has a bit of a reunion - with different Mongolic ethnic groups and other ethnic groups who's people participate in Naadam coming over to visit. Buryat and Uriankhai people are an example, and they (So, Buryat Mongols, Uriankhai/"forest people" as Mongols call them, usually denoting the likes such as Tuvans and Yakuts) have their own archery competitions. It's basically like one big get together!

Wrestling

Mongolian wrestling has no time limit and one objective - avoid touching the ground with anything other than your feet, or else you lose the match.

It also has no weight classes!

The National Wrestling Championship takes place during Naadam , however even before this, there are previous stages.

First is Soum (village) Naadam. Soum Naadam showcases wrestlers from various villages vying for the opportunity to represent their respective villages at the regional level.

Wrestlers who win at the Soum Naadam progress to the Aimag (province) Naadam, where they contend against other wrestlers within their own province to win the opportunity to represent the province.

The ultimate challenge awaits the winner of the Aimag Naadam at the National Naadam in Ulaanbaatar, the grandest and final tournament. Here, the aimag representatives vie for the prestigious title of national champion!

Mongol wrestling painting, 16th century

I definitely think Mr Mongolia is an avid wrestler/quite sporty himself (jock™) however he is a nation and so his nation strength and... Many, many years of experience would mean that it would be unfair for the most part if he went against humans. And besides, he absolutely risks outing himself if he participated in Naadam, especially with how popular wrestling is and uhh, considering the wrestling outfits... The lack of anonymity with that comes with it hahah.

However I think he participates in his own way. I think occasionally he helps with being with being a referee. Another thing: music. During Mongol national wrestling matches, you can often hear someone singing a Mongolian long song in the background. A long song is well, a song, which doesn't actually have a lot of words, but the the words are drawn out by the singer and emphasis is put on reaching impressive notes and putting power and volume in the voice. I think he does musical performances during naadam!

Archery

The Mongols are famous for their archery. There are many different types of Mongol archery.

There's Khalkha Archery, the most practiced one (seeing as the Khalkha Mongols are the majority ethnic group in Mongolia), spanning across a remarkable duration of 48 hours.

Those who triumph in this contest earn the esteemed distinction of the state archery title.

There's also women's archery! As for the women's archery tournament, they display their prowess by releasing 20 arrows towards a 60-meter target, while their male counterparts take aim with 40 arrows at a distance of 75 meters. The target itself comprises a symmetrical arrangement of diminutive leather cylinders, artfully positioned in rows of two and three.

Two red cylinders occupy the center of the target, but hitting them doesn't earn extra points. Each hit on a target gives one point, but merely hitting isn't enough for a score. The target must move a set distance from its starting point to count towards the final score.

There's also Uriankhai archery and Buryat archery - with Uriankhai archery only being practiced by men, and is practiced by the Uriankhai ethnic groups (this is a name Mongols give to what they consider Northern "forest people" like Tuvans or Yakuts). It has ties to religious ceremonies related to their culture. Buryat archery is practiced by the Buryat minority ethnic group of Mongolia. Both of which take place during the national Naadam festival.

They even have child archers!

I definitely think Mongolia is very passionate about archery, and watches the archery competitions intently. I think he helps with setting up the targets and prepping some of the archers when he can. He finds it fascinating to watch them display their skills and techniques with such precision and accuracy - and he wishes he could participate himself! He believes it is a testament to the level of dedication and hard work that athletes put into their craft and loves the satisfaction of the perfect hit - he'll always appreciate a good archer. Further, he puts time aside to go and watch the Buryat and Uriankhai archery with Buryatia and the others as its quite important to them all.

Horse racing

Over a thousand horses gather from all corners of the region to partake in this grand event. Diverging from Western traditions, these races traverse immense distances, spanning a remarkable range of 15 to 30 kilometers. The length of each race is intricately tied to the age of the horses, with the seasoned contenders gallantly competing over the longest stretches.

Curiously, the jockeys who guide these horses are not seasoned professionals, but rather children as young as 5 years old, with the oldest among them being 13. Yet, it is the horse's prowess that truly determines the outcome, as the race serves as a testament to their remarkable skills.

Age and gender play crucial roles in the classification of horses within the realm of horse racing. For example, in the case of geldings, they are divided into distinct age groups, spanning from 2 years old up to 6 years and older.

The races commence in a distinctive manner. All the horses gather behind a standard-bearer, cross the finish line together, and then follow the guidance of the official rider to reach the starting line.

In each class, the top 5 performers are crowned as "airgiyn tav," and the top three champions proudly claim gold, silver, and bronze medals. People joyfully sing their praises while showering them with fermented mare's milk (airag) on their rump, neck, and cheek.

The victorious jockey ascends to the esteemed title of "tumny ekh," signifying their leadership over a multitude of ten thousand.

Multiple races are showcased during Naadam. Stallions, specifically those known as Azarga, have a race of their own, while geldings partake in a minimum of three races. Further, a special race is organised specifically for pacing horses in Ulaanbaatar.

Remarkably, even the horse that crosses the finish line last in the two-year-old category is bestowed with a special appellation: "bayan khodood," meaning "full stomach." A heartfelt song resonates through the air, expressing good wishes and luck for the humble competitor to emerge triumphant in the following year.

The subject of child-jockeys seem to be somewhat contested amongst Mongols themselves. I'm not going to touch on that debate, however it should be noted that safety measures have been implemented in order to make sure that the race is as smooth as possible, but I understand that this can be a point of controversy. I definitely think Mongolia does his best in making sure the riders are well prepared/equipped for the races to ensure that have the best chances of coming out uninjured/relatively unscathed as possible. I think he puts extra time and care into this aspect of his Naadam participations considerably. He enjoys it to an extent as it reminds him of when he was a very young horse rider, and he does enjoy the celebrations afterwards, however the safety of the riders is at the forefront of his mind.

Other Naadam headcanons:

-Because Mongols usually wear their best clothes to Naadam, Mongolia definitely does too! He has a different outfit planned for each day.

-He uhh definitely enjoys all the food that's about 🤤 (khuushur, buuz)

-Probably floods his social media with pictures during this time

-Overall, it's quite an exciting yet busy time for him, he is involved in both the preparations for Naadam and participation in some aspects of Naadam, whilst also making sure to keep socialising with all the people he's invited over! But he manages it well.

#hetalia #aph mongolia #hws mongolia #Hetalia Mongolia #hetalia world stars #hetalia world series #hetalia world twinkle #Meta hetalia #Historical hetalia #Aph Buryatia #Hws Buryatia #Hetalia Buryatia #Aph Asia #Hws Asia #Aph east Asia #Hws east Asia #Hetalia east Asia #hetalia headcanons #Hetalia oc #OC: Baatar Batbayar

[shintsukibot]

Ancestral alien concepts

Basically what Mooninites and Plutonians used to look like back in the 16th century.

Similar to how birds evolved from dinosaurs and humans evolved from bipedal primates and dogs from wolves.

That human silhouette is the size of the average human male, 5 feet and 9 inches.

The Mooninite is based on modern Galaga sprites explaining the bug-like appearance.

The Plutonian is based on various species of Doctor Who aliens.

In terms of demeanor the Mooninites are essentially “grey aliens” and Plutonians are “reptoids”.

The original concept design for the ancestral Mooninite was drawn by my friend @deadsquidstudios after I told her what they looked like since she’s better at drawing monstrosities than me.

#athf #aqua teen hunger force #my art #aqua teen hunger force assemble! #assemble lore #mooninites #the plutonians

[garglyswoof]

🦇 klaroline + per my last email

“Oh my god did they even READ??? What part of ‘Rooms are booked at the Aman Venice’ is difficult to comprehend?” Caroline yelled at her screen, leaning over the keyboard as she began exaggeratedly typing a reply. She was already irritated by Kol singing loudly in Italian somewhere downstairs - some opera that he claimed he had starred in in the 16th century. Honestly, at this point she was sick of this city and its thin veneer of charm holding back the rot.

“Per my last email, signora” She bit out, throwing up her hands. “Gahh!!” A muffled laugh behind her spun her in her chair, Klaus on the leather chaise smiling way too patronizingly at her for her own liking. “What?”

“Does that work for you?” At her confused expression, he continued. “Being passive aggressive? What do you think that will accomplish?”

“It will make her realize she’s stupid and she should apologize for being unable to comprehend basic sentences?”

“You believe that? Or will it just irritate her and worse yet, she’ll ignore it and learn nothing?”

Caroline stared at him. There was a logic to his words and she was having none of it. “Excuse me, but I’ve arranged the entire vampire consortium because your diplomacy skills range from death threats to stuffing people in boxes when they piss you off, so forgive me if I don’t take your advice on my emails being passive aggressive.” The last part came out in a hiss that she’d not be proud of tomorrow but for now it was effective. She watched Klaus’ face grow mulish, obstinate, and wondered if he’d pick a fight. Her eyes flashed because frankly? Bring it. She was surprised when he stood up, posture stiff with hurt, and walked out of the room, trailing a sentence in his wake.

“I’ll just get out of your hair then, shall I? Since I’m so clearly a nuisance.”

Caroline sighed as he left, his footsteps receding down the stairs. Kol’s performance cut off mid-word in a choked gurgle, Klaus’ voice a low tremor of rage as a door slammed so hard she could feel the displacement of air in the room. She hadn’t meant to snap at him, but honestly was she wrong?

She had little time to think about it, as Kol quickly transitioned from his operatic reprise to crunching obscenely loudly on an apple while staring into her office, and Caroline rubbed her temples. Vampires didn’t get headaches - unless they were witch induced, of course - but that didn’t prevent muscle memory kicking in from exasperation.

“What, Kol?” She bit out, waiting for the inevitable punch line.

“Just letting you know I’m headed back to the States.”

Caroline lifted her head, eyes bright with surprise. “Wait what? We’re in Venice for the consortium and you’re just jetting? I thought you were at least having fun annoying the hell out of Klaus?”

“Well that’s just it, darling. It’s been fun feeding into the chaos, but I’d much rather start it. He’s too easy a mark when you’ve upset him.” Crunch. He leaned up against the wall, and that casual pose belied a head full of mischief, she knew well. What was his deal this time?

“What do you mean?”

Kol pushed off the wall, tossing the apple core, and Caroline watched it curve in a perfect arc into the bin. 

“Klaus is less fun with you around.”

Her brows knitted. “Excuse me? I'll have you know, Klaus is way more fun with me around.”

“Yeah you really don’t get it, do you?” Kol’s expression flickered, and for a moment the jester was gone, replaced with something almost serious, there and gone in a flash. “Everything he does. Even when he’s mad and stomping about the streets of Venice, you’re there. In his head,” He clarified, his hand waving about dismissively but doing nothing to lessen the gravity of his words. “All of it. Everything he’s thinking. It’s for you. So I can feed off that, use it, make fun of it endlessly, but after a while it gets old. Too -” He paused then, searching for the words as Caroline’s heart flipped. 

He shrugged then, whatever he was going to say was lost in a decision made. “So I figured since it’s almost time for my semi-annual Jeremy torture I’d head back ‘cross the pond.”

Taken aback by the abrupt subject change, Caroline could do nothing but sputter. “Gilbert?”

“Of course. He killed me and all, feels wrong to just let that lie.”

Caroline spun the chair around, the email forgotten. “We may not be friends anymore but I’m not sure I can support torturing Jeremy.”

“Oh don’t worry, I don’t kill him. Hunter’s curse and all, been there done that, watched Nik get the T-shirt. No thanks. I just…mess around with him. Move things around in his apartment, seduce his girlfriend, give him explosive diarrhea at work. Enough small things to drive him absolutely bat shit crazy, which is usually when I leave. The paranoia is a gift that keeps on giving.”

Caroline was struggling not to laugh, knew that Kol saw it and that it was not only what he was looking for but needed, at least for now. She wondered at what he had almost said, something in her heart called out to it, and knew she would look at Kol differently now, behind the mummer’s mask. 

He saw it in her face and closed off his own, began a refrain of the operetta as he spun out the door in full pointe, vampire’s grace a counterpoint to the calculated silliness. Caroline stared after him, thoughtful, his words sifting in her brain. Downstairs the main door opened and closed with the exaggerated creak of faulty jambs in this ever-sinking city. She turned back to the computer, the afternoon dimmed enough by clouds for the monitor’s glow to light the room. The cursor lay waiting. 

She erased it all, wrote a quick note re-explaining the details. Clicked send, angrily still, one part hanging on to the feeling, one part over it, a whole entire rest of herself thinking about Klaus. 

A few hours later she heard the door open, smelled the faint scent of blood. She hoped it was a least a tourist that had paid the blood price, this city was dying on its own without vampiric help. There was a moment of guilt, sharp and bright, as she knew whomever died was because of her. It's all for you - she heard Klaus say, Kol say, their voices blending together in words that spanned decades, and she got up and headed downstairs as her throat closed over her own words.

He was facing the fireplace, a glass of grappa that she just couldn't get the taste for in his hand, and he stood with the alert grace of his dual predators, waiting.

"Hey," she said softly, and his face turned in surprise. Her heart ached with his expression, guarded but searching.

"You were right." Three words to watch the light dawn across a face, his brow clearing, confusion to suspicion to delight as he saw the truth in her eyes.

Caroline held a hand up. "About the email. Not about threatening people. Just so we're clear."

"So Signora Rossini is not receiving an angry 'per my last email?'"

"Nope. Oh and," Caroline slid her arms around Klaus's neck, pulled him in close. "Kol's left for the states, so I guess we have this old building all to ourselves this evening."

The smile built slow and cut a dimple deep into his cheek, a hand circling to rest on the small of her back, the other sliding across a hip, her breath catching at the feel of it and the scent of blood that lingered on his lips. "Oh do we love, tell me, whatever shall we do with this extra time?"

She answered him with a kiss, the house quiet now, water lapping at its foundations, the sound of oars sluicing through the water mingling with the languages of a half-dozen countries. She kissed him and she thought of all she had ever wanted in this vampire life and before, and her lips curved in a satisfied grin.

-----

From my halloween extravaganza - send me a prompt or tell me something fun!

#klaroline #klaroline fanfiction #girl this was a hard prompt for me how to not make it too flippant and still have them be vampires thanks for the practice!

[adarkrainbow]

Glass slippers, yes... SLIPPERS

Whenever the “verre VS vair” debate is brought up, glass shoes or fur shoes, something is pointed out. It is extremely funny that people seem unwilling to accept the “glass” part of the shoes (which in itself is not something weird, especially since as other people pointed out there is a lot of glass in fairytales, up to entire glass mountains) ; but blindly accept and never contest a much more puzzling and weirdest part of the item. “Slippers”. Glass “slippers”.

In French “pantoufle de verre”. The shoes you see in every modern Cinderella iteration are not “pantoufles”. They’re high-heeled shoes, they’re shoes to go outdoor, they are not “slippers”/”pantoufles”. And the very decision of making Cinderella wear “pantoufles” to her ball seems very strange... 

A “pantoufle”/”slipper” (for the sake of simplicity I’ll use the French pantoufle from now on) is not a ball shoe, and certainly a strange choice to go to the ball. A pantoufle is a comfortable “inside shoe”, worn usually inside the house (or sometimes even just in bedrooms), and often the pantoufle was opened up at the back, leaving the heel uncovered. That’s the kind of slipper the 1950s dad wears alongside his pajama robe when he gets out of the house with a pipe in his mouth to go searching for his journal. A quite unelegant and unusual shoewear for a formal ball organized by a prince. 

Maybe we can get some clues from looking at the history of the pantoufle? Let’s see...

The French pantoufle was originally inspired by the Arabian “babouche” (you know, the archetypal “Arabian” shoe you’ll see everyone wear in One Thousand and One Nights). Somehow the fashion of the “babouche” reached France in its Middle-Ages and became there “pantoufles”. Originally pantoufle were peasant and low-class shoes: made out of felt, they were not shoes per se but things people put on their feet when they wore clogs (what in France we call “sabots” shoes) so that it would be much more confortable (”sabots” being thick and hard wooden shoes). So basically it started out as the peasant equivalent of socks. 

But by the 15th century the “pantoufle” suddenly reached the upper-class where it became a true fashion, every gentleman had to wear some, usually made of silk or thin leather (those were costly shoes). These “pantoufles” were notably worn with a sole made of either wood or cork (”liège” as we call it in France), to avoid the pantoufle being dirtied by the muddy ground. 

In the 16th century, a new change to the “pantoufle” was made (which notably became confused and conflicted with another type of slipper known as “mule”). The “pantoufle” became feminized, to the point that it became at one point an exclusively “feminine” fashion, the “pantoufle” becoming womanswear.

Though it had exceptions: notably under the rule of Louis 14 (who was the king under which lived Perrault and whom he served), the servants of the royal palace had to wear “pantoufles” with felt soles for two reasons. 1) So that the sound of their constant travellings throughout the palace wouldn’t disturb the upper-class. 2) So that their shoes wouldn’t damage the floor. 

It was at the end of the 17th century (which is also the time Perrault wrote and published his fairytales) that women started to use “pantoufle” as proper shoes, not just glorified socks. They noted how light and practical and easy to slip on and wear those things were, and so they wore them all on their own - but only inside their house or in their private chambers, due to how fragile they were. As I said, “inside shoes”. 

 So in conclusion, we know that in Perrault’s time the “pantoufle” were feminine footwear, traditional footwear of the royal court (but for servants), and fashionable enough to be worn on their own... But at the same time it was still an “inside shoe” of comfort and rest, and still stays a very unusual item to go to a royal ball with. They certainly were not easy shoes to dance with (not even counting how they were made of glass!). 

It is probably just another one of those details that Perrault liked to add to his fairytales just for the sake of having a form of humor in there. But it is fascinating to see how the “pantoufle”/”slipper” concept was rejected through time - in fact, even when people in the 19th century debated the “verre or vair” topic, they often called the shoes “soulier” (which is a type of outdoor shoe much closer to the ones popularized by modern adaptations than the indoor “slippers”, bedroom “pantoufles”).

All in all I can’t give you an answer, but it is an interesting detail that not many people took care of looking at (from my knowledge) ; or if they did, it was themselves to only point out how somehow nobody seemed bothered by the fact the shoes were slippers.

#cinderella #cendrillon #charles perrault #perrault fairytales #glass slippers #glass vs fur #french fairytales

[quohotos]

So about the Serpents in the Prophecy of Bane...

I'm almost certain this is an allusion to Jules Verne's seminal piece of speculative fiction about going underground Journey to the Center of the Earth. Exerpt from the Wikipedia page:

The story begins in May 1863, at the home of Professor Otto Lidenbrock in Hamburg, Germany. While leafing through an original runic manuscript of an Icelandic saga, Lidenbrock and his nephew Axel find a coded note written in runic script along with the name of a 16th-century Icelandic alchemist, Arne Saknussemm. When translated into English, the note reads:

Go down into the crater of Snaefells Jökull, which Scartaris's shadow caresses just before the calends of July, O daring traveler, and you'll make it to the center of the earth. I've done so. Arne Saknussemm

Lidenbrock departs for Iceland immediately, taking the reluctant Axel with him. After a swift trip via Kiel and Copenhagen, they arrive in Reykjavík. There they hire as their guide Icelander Hans Bjelke, a Danish-speaking eiderduck hunter, then travel overland to the base of Snæfellsjökull.

In late June they reach the volcano and set off into the bowels of the earth, encountering many dangers and strange phenomena. After taking a wrong turn, they run short of water and Axel nearly perishes, but Hans saves them all by tapping into a subterranean river, which shoots out a stream of water that Lidenbrock and Axel name the "Hansbach" in the guide's honor.Édouard Riou's illustration of an ichthyosaurus (which is actually more like a mosasaurus) battling a plesiosaurus.

Following the course of the Hansbach, the explorers descend many miles and reach an underground world, with an ocean and a vast ceiling with clouds, as well as a permanent Aurora giving light. The travelers build a raft out of semipetrified wood and set sail. While at sea, they encounter prehistoric fish such as Pterichthyodes (here called "Pterichthys") Dipterus (referred to as "Dipterides") and giant marine reptiles from the Age of the Dinosaurs, namely an Ichthyosaurus and a Plesiosaurus. A lightning storm threatens to destroy the raft and its passengers, but instead throws them onto the site of an enormous fossil graveyard, including bones from the Pterodactylus, Megatherium, Deinotherium, Glyptodon, a mastodon and the preserved body of a prehistoric man.

So that's our culprit. That basically fits the description of the Serpents. Thought that was just a cool detail and reference.

The underground jungle is an element that you could potentially say is also an allusion to Verne, though I think the version in the underland chronicles is significantly different since the depiction in Journey to the center of the earth has light from above whereas all the plants in the underland are basically carnivores and/or feed off of volcanic heat.

It's also possible that this allusion is not deliberate, as much like War of the Worlds, Journey to the Center of the Earth has basically been subsumed into pop culture cannon and referenced so many times that a lot of it's unique elements have just become tropes. Dinotopia also used dinosaurs in a cave surviving the asteroid, Minecraft, Terraria, Spelunky, Noita, and basically any other video game that involves digging will at some point put a Verne styled underground jungle in there.

One YA series that leans really hard into the Journey to the Center of the Earth inspirations is the Tunnels series. I actually read them in 6th grade to attempt to scratch my TUC itch. Let me tell you, they're not as good and don't even come close. Whereas TUC has some tasteful allusions, Tunnels goes all in. The underground people are more evil (if that's possible) and are intent on wiping out all life on the surface. Worst of all, it's set in England!!! There's cool world building, but no giant talking bats so I have no choice but to award it zero stars. It was supposed to be turned into a movie in 2009 and all the books got stickers for that... said movie appears to have never materialized.

Idk, something I thought about while listening to today's @returntoregalia episode

Okay bonus details about how I made this connection: As a kid, wishbone would come on once a week at like 4 pm or something, I didn't get to see it often, but I vividly remember one of the episodes. For anyone who doesn't know, wishbone was PBS show that followed a dog and his human family as they go through some struggle that wishbone (the dog) finds allegorical to a piece of classic, public domain literature. The episodes are split in half with the parts in the present, and the reenactments within the dog's imagination of the classic piece of literature. In one of the few episodes I caught was about Jules Verne's Journey to the Center of the Earth. I do not recall how this novel was relevant to the characters lives, all I know is that it's way to long to fit into half of a 20 minute episode, so they had to really rush through a lot of parts. In one shot the characters are in this jungle and they run away from a Plesiosaurus puppet.

#Tuc #the underland chronicles #Gregor the overlander #tuc speculation #Journey to the Center of the Earth #return to regalia #return to regalia podcast #Quohotos' unhinged rants no one asked for #I did not proof read this. You're going to find typos

[earlgraytay]

so this is almost certainly culture-war bait, but I'm more interested in this from someone who knows costumes and fabrics much better than I do: can you say what in twitter(.)com/thattugglife/status/1527865937419853824 makes the left one look worse than the right (to an untrained eye) - and if you agree? I have suspicions - the left photo doesn't bring out the patterns the way the right one does (which isn't the dress's fault) and the left skirt isn't integrated well (which is); your thoughts?

For reference, these are the outfits we're talking about:

And, well, the differences mostly boil down to fabric quality and construction.

I know enough about fabric and sewing to know that I don't know that much about this- someone like funereal-disease (who is no longer on Tumblr) could probably give you a better breakdown, BUT.

....The costume on the left, which is the official Disney Snow White Movie Costume (TM) is made out of much cheaper fabric. It looks like crushed velvet for the bodice and accents, and really cheap polyester organza for the skirt. It's the kind of fabric you'd expect to see on a Party City costume for small children, and not something that's meant to look realistic. In contrast, the cosplayer on the right has used quality fabric for their costuming. I'm pretty sure the skirt on the right is made of real silk or satin, and the velvet on the bodice looks real, too.

The costume on the left is also much worse fitted than the costume on the right. Like, if we look at Snow White's original costume for a second:

She's supposed to have a very tight fitted bodice, a very slim waist, a skirt that emphasizes her hips and flares out at the base, and a high collar. The costume on the right takes all those elements and exaggerates them into something that looks period-accurate to the late 16th century or so- it's exaggerating them for effect. Meanwhile, the costume on the left...

Dear lord where do I begin. The waist is wrong. The cut of the skirt is wrong. The sleeves are wrong. The neckline is wrong. Remember that post that went viral about costuming in the Witcher, and how the costumes are fitted differently to make Jaskier look lanky and Geralt look buff, even though they're built basically the same? This costume looks like it was cut to make the poor actress playing Snow White as squart as physically possible.

The way her shoulders are cut makes them look massive, instead of making her arms look slimmer like puffed sleeves were supposed to. Since the skirt isn't fitted properly- whatever petticoat they're using is very sad- her waist is invisible. She looks like a box.

Finally- and @amairylle was the one who pointed this out for me, so thank them for this- the costuming details on the Disney dress, such as they are, look tacked on. The lacing on her bodice looks like it is a couple pieces of string glued to the cloth. The lace at her neckline also looks Pastede On Yey. The velvet details do not look like layers, they look sewn on. And THE COLLAR, DEAR LORDT. It is very obviously held up with wire. I cannot exaggerate how obvious it is that there is one (1) wire in there and it is doing its goddamn best. Meanwhile, the lace ruff the cosplayer is wearing at least looks like starched lace.

Like, don't get me wrong, there is definitely some anti-Disney racist culture war bullshit going on here, but also- this is bad even by Disney standards. They're going out of their way not to pay unionized costumers.

Some people have floated around the possibility that the Disney costume is being worn to hide the "real" costume from the paparazzi and/or is going to be enhanced with CGI. But unless the first group of people are right- there's no saving this thing. It full-stop sucks. It is the Ugly Human-Toothed Sonic of costuming.

#fashion #costuming #historical costuming #disney #snow white