#anyway Everything Is Bad Except Love And I Wish Life As Designed By Society Was More About That

[cheelduh]

How to Not Kill a Ginger (High School Au!)

Part 5 to the series hehehe

Parts: 1 2 3 4

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Synopsis: Childe’s stomach stirs when you take care of him, and he’s not sure if it’s because of his major crush on you or just plain old diarrhea.

Warnings: Swearing. Graphic descriptions involving the true idiocy of teenage boys.

Words: Abt 2.6k

Note: Sorry I sort of half assed this. I have big ideas for the next part tho ✨😮‍💨

If there's one thing you're sure of, it's that Teucer knows how to throw one hell of a tantrum.

Him and his brother, Anthon, under your watch, manage to get into a petty squabble that's been airing for the last fifteen minutes. You've done everything, from offering candy to promising an extra hour on the switch, but your efforts do not bear fruit.

What did you tell Childe again? Oh yeah, that babysitting kids was a breeze. Apparently it's not a breeze. Maybe something more like a shart. A chunky, messy one at that.

"Listen dude," You reason to Anthon, the oldest of the bunch gently. "Where did you hide his toy?"

Anthon sticks a tongue out at you, and you nearly cry at the intensity of the insult. "Not telling."

Your patience runs thin.

"C'mon Anthon," Tonia lectures from her chair on the table like the godsend she is. "Just give him his toy back. You're being so annoying." She's taking the words right out of your mouth.

"Not until he apologizes!" Anthon crosses his arms, huffing. "He ate my cheese string!"

"There are more cheese strings!" You exclaim, opening the fridge to prove your point. "I'm sure Teucer's sorry for taking yours. Just pick another one."

"But it's not the same! He took the last cheddar and mozzarella one, now there are only mozzarella ones left." He speaks in between Teucer's wails. You wonder if this is a daily occurrence.

Tonia sighs, gets up from her chair, and hands the eldest her cheese string. "Just take this and give him his toy back."

Almost immediately, Anthon reaches a hand behind the tv table and pulls out the miniature Mr. Cyclops, then throws it point blank at Teucer's feet.

Teucer wails louder.

You pinch the bridge of your nose, shoulders sagging under the stress of being a temporary teenage mother.

Then you take a deep breathe, voice booming over Teucer's cries, Anthon's grumbling, and the clicking of Tonia's tongue. "Let's make a cake!"

Everything in the room stills. Even Teucer's loud cries comes to a halt, and he inhales so sharply that the streak of snot over his lip goes right back into its origin.

You wince inadvertently.

"Poggers!" Anthon cheers, and his siblings join in, laughing and clapping in excitement.

Tonia's eyes widen in confusion when she briefly pauses from her rally. "Wait a minute. What are we celebrating? We can't bake a cake for no reason! It won't taste nearly as good."

Everyone stops to ponder.

Then you snap your fingers in realization, and the kids huddle around you. "How about a 'get well better' cake for your big brother?"

They erupt in cheers again, but you shush them gently, wink an eye for extra measure. "We have to be quiet! He won't get better if we wake him."

The three nod in understanding and begin shushing each other, failing to conceal their giggles.

As you watch them making their way into the kitchen, bounce in their steps, you can't stop the warm smile that reaches your eyes.

That smile soon becomes a frown of horror when Anthon cracks an egg over Tonia's head.

-

The cake is not half as bad as you thought it would be initially. Between mixing the ingredients and ceasing the kids minus Tonia from being menaces to society, you were able to find middle ground.

Eventually Anthon found interest in finding ways to lick the batter whenever you turned around, and Teucer found comfort in your left leg, latching onto it as if it were a life line.

Just like how Venti latches onto his stupid little bottle of wine disguised as a water bottle. Seriously, you’ve never talked to him sober, and at this point are afraid of what’s he’s like lucid.

Tonia had been the only one taking things seriously for the most part, except for the sprinkles-to-icing ratio. She drowned the entire cake in sprinkles, the mere sight adding on the ghost of an ache in your teeth.

It looks like twilight sparkles took a fat dump on it.

"Okay besties," You inwardly curse yourself for giving into Gen-Z vocabulary as you brush your hands on the apron. "I think we've done a pretty decent job."

"It looks so pretty!" Tonia grins widely, eyeing the edible pearls she strategically placed. She quickly strikes down a finger Anthon tried to poke into the icing, with the accuracy of a true warrior.

You shudder at the thought of Childe teaching her how to stab someone with safety scissors.

"Can we add candles?" Teucer asks, but Tonia clicks her tongue in distaste.

"It's not a birthday cake." She crosses her arms judgementally. The power in her glare reminds you of La Signora, strangely enough.

You ruffle his copper coloured locks anyways, and his grip on your thigh tightens. "We can add candles if you want Teucer."

He nods his head and snuggles deeper into the side of your leg. Your heart warms up considerably.

After the candles are poked in, you try to shrug him off. "C'mon dude, just for five minutes. You don't want me to drop the cake before your brother can get a bite do you?"

Reluctantly, he obliges, and runs off to help Tonia collect utensils to take up to Childe's room.

Anthon's on door duty, kicking away any toys that serve as obstacles in your way like a professional soccer player.

Once you four make it up the stairs in front of the designated room, Anthon doesn't bother knocking. He barges in like he owns the place, chin up high and a signature smirk on his face that he probably learnt from his older brother.

Childe fumbles awake, kicking the air whilst in shock by the chaotic sound of the door hitting the wall and Teucer screaming "Happy Birthday!" at the top of his miniature sized lungs as he runs in to plop right on top of his older brother.

His bewildered expression soon turns into something of a loving smile as he begins to process what is happening, eyes lighting up despite the deep bags that frame them.

Tonia places the plates on his side table, right next to the empty soup bowl you placed there earlier. She climbs up onto the bed as well to join in on the hug.

Anthon approaches at last, hands in his pockets as he coolly acknowledges his older brother. Instead of a bone-crushing hug like the other two are indulging in, his opts for a fist bump that Childe happily reciprocates.

Then finally, between the shield that are his siblings, his cerulean eyes land on your near the doorway, then trail down to the cake in your oven-mittened hands. He averts his gaze back to your own, and grins so wide his cheeks start to throb.

"Big brother! We made you cake." Teucer moves his head from his chest to face him. "So you can get better."

Childe's laughs ring in your ears, but you don't shy away from the sound. It's a pleasant, something that you wish to hear more of in the near future. Sure enough he laughs a lot at school, but the genuineness of it at home, surrounded by his siblings, stirs something deep within you.

"How thoughtful of you." He ruffles his hair, then his eyes widen as he ushers the two off of him. "You guys can't be near me! I don't want you to fall ill as well."

"But-but how will we feed you the cake without getting close to you?" Tonia frowns, and her two brothers nod in unison.

You chuckle lightly, approaching the bed with the cake in your hands. "I'm sure he has enough strength to feed himself. The hugs and kisses surely must've energized him."

To be honest, Childe's all green in the face and the last thing on his mind would be to indulge in the cake. You understand the feeling all to well. With his nose clogged up, throat all sore, there's no way he'll stomach it. It took a lot of nagging on your part to get him to finish the soup earlier as well.

He blows the candles anyways, clapping along his siblings and letting Tonia drop a fat chunk of the golden cake onto his plate. You find it endearing, regrettably so. His dedication to keeping their dreams is admirable in more ways than you can count.

This is the same guy that wears meme shirts to school, topped off with douchey sunglasses to give him a pristine vibe. The same guy that punches holes in walls like a Kyle. The very boy that flexes his toned biceps in-front of you during lunch time, successfully ruining your appetite.

"Wait a minute..." Childe inspects the cake closely, narrowing in on the candles. "Why is there an eleven?"

Teucer scratches his neck sheepishly. "Those were the only candles we had left."

After another short-lived laugh, Childe manages a bite as everyone stares in expectation, the sound of a tight crunch enveloping the room, making you grimace in secret. If Childe feels like puking out his guts right now, he's doing a hell of a job hiding it from his darling siblings.

You're glad nobody forces you to take a bite, or it would've been a double homicide right then and there.

Soon enough, one by one the children file out of the room, satisfied with their visit. The reality is that they don't want to miss an episode of backyardigans.

Once they leave, you approach him with a napkin. He gets the gist, spitting out the remnants of the cake you slaved over for about two hours.

"Colour me impressed." You snort, moving the cake aside so you can take a seat on the open space next to him. "How're you feeling?"

"Amazing." He exclaims, eyes red like a crackhead's, nose runny, with goosebumps kissing his pale skin. He sure does look...amazing.

"Cool." You say, abruptly getting up. "I'm gonna vibe with the kid—"

His hand shoots out from underneath the blanket, clammy palms wrapping around your wrist to keep you locked in place. You gulp in anticipation.

"You kissed me." Childe reminds you, eyes twinkling in mischief, a vicious grin plastered over his stupidly handsome face.

You try not to choke on your words. "You have circumstantial evidence at most." No attempts are utilized to pull away from him.

He raises a teasing brow, and you give in because the tension is thick. Thicker than the tension between Albedo and Kaeya when the latter shamelessly unzips his front to show more of his biddies. You have no idea why he hasn’t been dress coded yet.

"Fine." You snap out of your impure thoughts, and huff out, frustrated all over. "I kissed you on the cheek."

"Still a kiss though."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes. Also, cute nails." He points out, hand moving down to grasp your fingers. The act is intimate, his caress gentle and caring. Despite his brash, violent personality, he shows you a completely different side to him that hatches butterflies in your stomach.

"Thanks." You show off the bright jewels on your index. "You have a real nail technician in the house."

Tonia has some serious talent.

When he taps one of the jewels, you slap his hand away. "Careful there dude. These cost me a fortune."

His chuckles die down and he smiles again, but this time apologetically. "They didn't trouble you too much did they? I know they can be loud."

"I like loud." You answer him truthfully. "They're fun to be around. Not nearly as chaotic as you."

He blinks in mock offence, eyes narrowing shrewdly. "You come into my house, talk to my siblings, and have the nerve to insult me? Right after taking advantage of me?"

"If you don't shut up, I'll also have the nerve to rip you a new one." You reply dryly with the innocent curl of your lips.

"Bet."

You're about to lunge at him and scream a string of obscenities that no one has ever heard of before, but the Archons are listening and you don't want his siblings to grow up without someone to look up to. Wait a minute—scratch that. You'd be doing them a favour if you wiped his existence right here and now.

You have a fragile heart though. So you sigh, and grab a fistful of sheets in both hands instead.

Childe's grin turns into a petrified scowl.

"Oh no," He pleads, weakly fighting you back. "Have mercy! Please!"

You have loads of mercy. Just not enough for him.

When you have him wrapped in a successful bundle, Childe can’t help but beam, laying limp in his confines.

“What are you smiling about?” You inquire, pulling out the medicine from his box, pausing momentarily in shock. “Wait a minute, don’t tell me you’re into these things you freak.” Head snaps up so fast you nearly suffer from whiplash.

He’s about to answer you but his words turn into a fit of shallow coughs.

“I’m into whatever you’re into.” Childe’s shrug is nonchalant. “Even if that means I have to be tied up. Kinky by the way.” He winks, and you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you hold the spoon up. The dark reddish medicine swirls in deep hues.

“Shut up and open your mouth.”

“Girlie, I don’t think you understand how contradicting that statement is.”

You momentarily wonder if it’s too late to abort yourself.

—

Childe awakens at the crack ass of night, sweat slick, sticky all over, tousled hair sticking to his forehead. He’s a panting mess, eyes darting around the dark room, inhaling, exhaling, mind in a haze from the fever. Gaining somewhat of a grip on reality, he fumbles around to turn on his lamp, throat parched and in need of water.

When he manages to find the switch, he recoils at the brightness, adjusting to the sudden change in his vision. On his side table, there’s a bologna sandwich tucked safely in plastic wrap, a glass of room temperature water, and a bottle of painkillers.

His eyes disregard most of the things, finding interest in the bright pink sticky note next to the painkillers. Unable to ignore the dryness of his throat and the pounding of his head, he quickly gulps a pill down with most of the water, instantly feeling the relief of hydration.

Then, he pounces on the note, giddiness overtaking him despite the pang in his muscles, and the general feeling of absolute shit.

I had to leave. Don’t worry about your siblings, they’re all tucked in and fine. Except for Anthon maybe. Apparently he’s mildly lactose intolerant and thought it was a good idea to overdose on chocolate milk when I was busy with Teucer. Anyways, get better soon stupid.

— Y/N

He safely tucks the note under his pillow, edges of his lips turned upwards, warmth flooding his veins when he takes another look around his surroundings.

The room itself is cleaned, floor cleared from the initial clutter and the cool shiny collector’s knives he buys off of Amazon safely hung over the wall, not littered on his desk like they usually are.

The homework he was supposed do, but most likely wouldn’t, is already completed, stacked neatly atop each other.

Childe swears his heart bursts in his chest, exploding into tiny particles that overheat his entire body.

There’s no way in hell a few days worth of homework is gonna bring his failing mark up, but then again it’s the thought that counts.

While the sandwich is catered to his nausea, bland and plain for easy digestion, an easy fill, it’s the best meal he’s ever had in his life.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #childe #childe x reader #fanfic #genshin oneshot #genshin tartagalia #kaeya alberich #tartagila #venti genshin impact #albedo #teucer #genshin archon #tartagalia x reader #tartagalia genshin impact

[five-rivers]

Pennywort and Swallowtails

For @phantomphangphucker :)

Prompt:  Flynn, due to being Phantom’s aka the Ghost King’s family and part of the Zone’s society, receives a Prince title and is now getting crowned.

.

Flynn couldn’t put his finger on exactly why, but the Ghost Zone seemed different lately.  There was something in the atmosphere, almost.  It felt… lighter, maybe?  

He didn’t like it.  

After all these years in the Ghost Zone, he’d come to regard any change from the norm with suspicion.  The tendency had saved his life multiple times.  Usually, such changes were caused by a nearby and powerful ghost.  Or, on rare and terrifying occasions, a not so nearby and obscenely powerful ghost.

For example, that Pariah Dark guy he’d heard about from some of the ghosts he traded with.  Flynn sure was glad someone else had taken care of him.  Not that Flynn was much good in a fight against any ghost more powerful than that annoying one in overalls that showed up whenever Flynn so much as thought of making anything even vaguely box-shaped.

Which wasn’t that often.  Flynn had never really nailed the whole carpentry thing. Ha.  He’d never been super great at the whole square thing either. Because he wasn’t one.  Skipped school and everything.  The whole high school experience.  Ha.  

Sometimes he really cracked himself up, but only in the most depressing of ways.  

He sighed, heavily.  Maybe he should think about spending more time in his hideaway cave, under his cottage (aka his shack, it was a shack, who was he kidding).  Stock up on supplies.  Get ready to weather a storm.  Literal or metaphorical.  

But hiding out in the cave was so boring.  There wasn’t anything to do down there. Except try to design better grass shoes and to patch his increasingly ragged clothing with limited amounts of thread. He preferred being outside greatly. Even if it was just on his little floating island, messing around in his little garden, growing potatoes and blood blossoms, digging for those crystals ghosts seemed to fear and desire in equal measure.

Flynn was peripherally aware that he was supplying the ghosts he traded with the equivalent of ghost uranium (one of the few human-world things he’d picked up was a middle school science textbook), but…

Yeah.  Guy had to eat, and the Ghost Zone didn’t exactly have cops running all over the place, or the United Nations, or… yeah.  Honestly, the Ghost Zone didn’t have much of anything, at least not in these parts.  It was pretty empty around here.  

Just like Flynn’s heart.  

Ha.  

Yeah.  That was a good one.  

Eh.  Life wasn’t so bad.  He was sort-of-kind-of friends with half a dozen undead monsters of questionable morality, had his own house, most of his teeth, and copious free time.  Plus, it had been a while since the ‘rocks from nowhere’ decided to trash his roof.  Which was bad for the sport he had invented (Chucking Rocks into the Misty Void), but good for roof integrity.  And not having a concussion.  Or losing any more teeth.  

But, back to his original topic.  

Flynn glared absently at the Zone at large. Okay, yeah, something was going on. Was it Flynn’s problem? Maybe.  Was it directly Flynn’s problem?  No.  The day was otherwise clear and ‘normal’ (the term being used loosely in the Ghost Zone), so he might as well go about his day—

The sky tore open in front of him.  

Flynn recognized that.  Before he knew what he was doing, he threw himself away from the portal. The last time he’d stepped through one of those—

The thought crossed his mind that this portal might lead back to Earth, back home, back to Mom.  But he knew from his ghostly friends how unlikely it was that the portal would put him anywhere near his home physically, not to mention temporally. It might not even lead back to Earth for that matter.  

He took cover behind a boulder, cursing his blasé dismissal of potential danger.  Who knew what could come out of a portal?  At least according to the ghosts he talked to.  Hopefully, nothing came out that he couldn’t beat into submission with his ectoranium staff.  

This was going to suck so much.  

The portal disgorged three floating eyeball ghosts in voluminous robes.

(One of the other books Flynn had gotten his hands on was a dictionary.  Which he had read.  Twice. Living on a tiny floating island was boring when it wasn’t terrifying.)

Ah, heck.  He could take one ghost.  Three? Yeah.  Not a chance.  

Maybe they’d leave?  They couldn’t know for sure he was here.  With how unpredictable portals were, and all.

“Flynn Walker,” intoned the central eyeball ghost with a great deal of gravitas.  

Flynn’s body did something between a cringe and a blanch.  

He was never trusting Globithar the Lapidarist’s tall tales ever again.  He wasn’t going to give him any more discounts for them, either.  No way to control a portal his scarred left butt cheek.  

“Flynn Walker,” repeated the eyeball ghost, now with a touch of annoyance.  

“In accordance with the laws of the Infinite Realms,” said the leftmost ghost, in a higher-pitched voice, “we call you to take up your position in the Court of the King of All Ghosts as a member of his family.”

Ah, that ectocontamination Aunt Maddie had sometimes talked about had finally caught up with him, and he was hallucinating something fierce. Either that, or these ghosts thought unbelievable jokes were good bait.  They weren’t.  Flynn would know.  He’d made many unbelievable jokes.  They’d never attracted anything but groans.  

Ha.  

“This is ridiculous,” hissed the third ghost.  “He isn’t even a real ghost.”

“He’s more ghostly than Phantom’s sister,” said the second.  

“We don’t have any choice about her, though.  Can’t we simply… not tell Phantom about this Flynn? Especially if this cousin of his is so craven as to hide at a moment like this.”

Rude, but accurate.  

“He’ll find out,” said the first eyeball, tiredly. “He always finds out.  Damn Clockwork.”

This was officially too weird for Flynn.  Why were they cursing out clocks?

“Because they’re petty and don’t have anything better to do.”

Flynn may or may not have shrieked like a little girl at the voice behind him.  The uncertainty was mostly because Flynn hadn’t seen or heard a little girl since he was in the vicinity of his cousin, Jazz, which was years ago.  At least a decade.  

But he did scream.  Loudly.  Which he really should know better than to do, living in the Ghost Zone and all.  He brought his staff up defensively, too, though, so his self-preservation skills hadn’t completely shorted out.

“Clockwork!” chorused the eyeball ghosts.  

“Yes, yes,” said the ghost who’d snuck up on Flynn, flicking imaginary dust off his robe as he smoothly, and dizzyingly, shifted between ages.  “I’m sure you’re all very shocked that I’m here, after you just finished complaining about how much I know.”  He examined his fingernails.  “Now, Mr. Walker—”

“Walker?” shrieked one of the eyeballs.  

“Yes, he is related to our illustrious sheriff. As I was saying, I am here to bring you to your cousins, who have risen quite a bit in this world.”

“What.”

“It is, indeed, rather surprising,” said Clockwork. “To those who cannot see the twists and turns of fate.  Or those who are willfully blind to those twists and turns.”  He eyed the eyeballs.  

“What,” repeated Flynn, more forcefully.  

“Clockwork,” growled the lead eyeball.  

“Allow me to explain,” said Clockwork.  “Do you recall your youngest cousin, Daniel?”

“Uh,” said Flynn.  He adjusted his grip on his staff.  “Vaguely?”

“He was crowned King of All Ghosts a few weeks ago. As a member of his family and an active participant in ghost society, you are automatically a member of the court. Assuming you wish to be, of course.”

“You- You’re saying I have family here.”

“Indeed.”

“Like, Aunt Maddie?”

Something odd passed over Clockwork’s face.  “No.  Your cousins. Daniel, specifically.”

“Wait, wait, he was a baby.  Wouldn’t he only be, like, ten or something?”

“Fifteen,” corrected Clockwork.  

“How did he die?”

“You will have to ask him that,” said Clockwork.  He raised an eyebrow.  “If you would like, you can sleep on this and I will return tomorrow.”

Flynn bit his lip.  Hard.  Okay. He wasn’t dreaming.  And- And this ghost didn’t seem to be lying. What would the point of that even be, anyway?  Flynn was nothing.  He didn’t have anything they could possibly gain by lying like this.  

“I’ll go with you,” said Flynn.  

“Excellent,” said Clockwork, clapping his hands.  “Then let us away to the castle.”

.

Well.  That was certainly a castle.  Or a palace? Flynn wasn’t sure of the difference. The ghosts hadn’t lied about that, at least.  

It was a big step up from Flynn’s house.  Which, honestly, more deserved the title of hovel. Or perhaps shack.  

Or even hole, when compared to all this.  Dear god, this place was fancy.  

Flynn hunched his shoulders, feeling out of place even as Clockwork led him deeper into the massive edifice.  

Come on, Flynn, he thought furiously at himself. Some of these people aren’t even wearing skin.  You are not underdressed.  

Clockwork brought him to a normally sized (which was, incidentally, not a given in this place, which contained both huge and tiny doors) door with understated but elegant carvings.  “Here are your rooms,” said the ghost.  “You will find a selection of clothing in your size in the wardrobe, and the bathroom is fully stocked and human safe.”

“Human safe?”

“Human safe.”

That was ominous.  

“There is a bell in the room that will summon a servant should you need one.  I will collect you for dinner in three hours.  Long enough for you to relax, I should hope.”

Or long enough for him to worry himself into pieces and chew on their curtains.  

… There would be curtains, right?  This place had to be fancy enough to rate curtains.  

He opened the door.  

Lots of curtains.  Lovely.

No, really.  It had been so, so long since he’d seen curtains.  He might be crying.  

Oh, gosh, that bed looked so nice and soft.  He wanted to—

Wait, no, he was filthy.  Filthy.  Covered in years’ worth of grime.  He hadn’t had a proper bath since he’d still been living with his mom.  

Pathetic, right?

There was a human-safe bathroom in here somewhere. Beyond the snark, he was looking forward to having a human-safe bath.  He was craving a human-safe bath.  With clean water and soap.  

Could the bathroom also have toothbrushes?  Toothpaste?  Unrestrained luxury.  

The bathroom door was in the same style as the outer door, but the handle was different, lighter.  The inside was tiled and surprisingly modern.  

There was a sink.  

He played with the sink faucet for several long minutes before remembering that he’d come in to take a bath.  

He spent several minutes playing with the bathtub faucet.  

Then he got into the bathtub and experienced a half hour of combined panic (he didn’t really know how baths worked anymore, and the sensations were weird) and nirvana (the sensations were also good).

He had to keep cycling the water.  Because he made it so, so dirty.  He sank into the water, up to his chin.  

When he got out of the water, he decided his hair was a lost cause.  Because it was always a lost cause.  Only, it was even more of a lost cause now, because it was also wet and had been stripped of its usual protective layer of oils.  

There was a variety of toothbrushes and toothpastes available.  He tested them out and discovered that he would probably need the services of a dentist. A good one.  Were there ghost dentists?  There had to be ghost dentists.  They had a lot of teeth.  A lot of teeth.  Sharp, scary, teeth.  

Ugh.  His baby cousin was a ghost.  He’d probably have teeth like a shark.  When he’d last seen him, he’d hardly even had any teeth at all.  Because.  Baby. Little, tiny, baby.  

Who Flynn barely knew.  

Why did he even want Flynn?  Or was it just some weird ghost tradition thing?  

Ghosts were weird.  Anything could be possible.  

He flopped face-first onto the bed.  His bed?  His temporary and maybe permanent bed.  If he was allowed to stay here.  

Oh, gosh.  Clockwork and the eyeballs seemed to know how to make portals.  Could they make a portal back to the human world? To Earth?  

To Flynn’s proper time?

To Mom?  

He missed Mom so much, even after all this time.  

(Dad?  Not so much. He hardly remembered the man.)

He wouldn’t know until he asked, he supposed.  But asking maybe-royalty would be scary. Talking to all these powerful ghosts was scary enough by itself.  

Ehhhh, he thought he’d gotten rid of his more cowardly side by now.  He was living in the scariest place out of the world.  

Ha.  

Yeah.  

He crawled out of the bed, dragging his nice, clean self to the wardrobe.  Oh, boy. Many clothes.  He hadn’t even seen so many clothes since the last time he’d been in department store.  Incredible.  

They were so fancy, too.  He didn’t know how to choose.  

He didn’t even know how to wear half of these things. At least half of them.  

He began to tease lengths of fabric from the wardrobe and lay them on his bed.  Some of them looked cool.  And also the kind of thing that he’d destroy just by touching it.  

Except he had already touched them, and they hadn’t been destroyed yet.  Yet.

Oh, cool, there was underwear.  Wow.  It had been a while.  

.

Okay.  The bed was incredibly nice, but somehow too nice.  Like, no nap nice.  

He wanted to take a nap.  

But no nap was occurring.  

The bed was too soft.  Ugh.  This was like the thing in that one war novel he’d read when he was probably way too young to read it.  

He groaned.  He hadn’t thought that was real.  He’d thought it was an exaggeration, or just drama.  Or something.  

He crawled off onto the floor and the wonderfully plush carpet.  

Maybe he could sleep here.  

.

He woke up to a faint knocking sound and rolled sideways under cover.  What cover? Oh.  Bed.  That was the bed.  He was in the room.  In the castle.  The ghost king’s castle.  

His baby cousin’s castle.  

He was going to cry.  This was so weird.  

Embarrassed, he rolled back out from under the bed and threw on the first clothes that came to hand.  Which.  Might not have been the best of ideas.  But, hey, he was dressed now.  

He stumbled over to the door and spent several long, embarrassing seconds sleepily remembering how to open doors with this type of handle.  Eventually, though, he managed it.

Clockwork was standing there.  One of his eyebrows went up.  “Interesting choice.”

Flynn looked down.  Orange and green went fine together.  What was he talking about?  

Forget it, he wasn’t about to develop a sense of social shame after living in a hut for a decade or so.  

“Come, now.  Your cousins are expecting you.”

Flynn briefly considered ducking out, phasing through the floor and out of the castle using a tangibility trick he’d picked up a couple of years back.  At least, that would spare him from this ‘diner’ he was rapidly approaching.  

He decided not to do that.  Running away wasn’t his style.  

(Who was he kidding?  That was definitely his style.  He would have run away so, so much if he had anywhere to run to.)

(It wasn’t like he could exactly fight ghosts on even footing.  Each and every one of them had Martian Manhunter’s powerset.)

“Don’t be afraid, Flynn,” said Clockwork, looking back over his shoulder.  

“Do you, like, read minds?”

Clockwork chuckled.  “Only the future.”  He swung the large, gilded door open.  

Inside, there was a long table, set with silvery plates.  There were a small group of children beyond it.  One of them waved at him.  Was that Danny?

Flynn took a deep breath and walked forward, back to his family.  

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2021 #flynn walker #clockwork

[bearsace]

through my broken and bruised eye, it was you i beheld.

Summary: Bearsace watches Mai grow up right before his eyes. (He is, after all, the one closest to her.) 

Or: a friendship through the ages, told in three parts.

Author’s Note: I’ve been wanting to get this fic published for almost a year now; I had so much fun writing it as I hope you do reading it! Please enjoy one of the most niche fics you might ever read: Ikemen Sengoku in Bearsace’s POV, a la Edward Tulane. Special thanks to @rainebowkitty for reading it over super quick! You can also find this on AO3 here.

Pairings: Nobunaga/MC, but fic centers around Bearsace/MC friendship

Genre: Friendship, family, fluff, hurt/comfort

Rating: K

Word Count: 4,000+

Read Time: 10+ minutes

part one / broken. kyoto, 2004-2017.

What is this?

When he blinked into existence, he felt soft hands beneath his arms. He could not move or speak, but he could feel, and with the hands, he felt warmth.

Who am I?

“Oh, Mai, he’s beautiful!”

“Thanks, Dad!”

Where is this place?

“You’re absolutely the cutest thing I’ve ever made in my whole life. I think I’ll call you… Bearsace.”

This warm feeling in his chest… he wished that he could put a name to it, but everything was dim, and it was uncomfortable to him not to be able to see the face belonging to the long, silky brown hair as it bent over him. The hands caressed a spot above his nose and lips kissed it.

“I still have to sew another eye on you, ‘cause the other one was the wrong size, and I promise you I will… but even though you’re not complete yet, just know that I already love you so much.”

Love . It was a foreign word, but somehow, Bearsace understood that was the name of this feeling. He could not move, yet he wished he could gaze into the face of she who loved him so much— Mai.

Love. I love you, too, Mai.

—

By the time Mai managed to sew another eye on him, he already loved her with all his stuffed heart. He could see her clearly now that he had two eyes, and she was beautiful, and he admired the way she would seat him beside her sewing machine and model gowns for him.

Mai had many ambitions. Bearsace would support them as much as one stuffed bear could. She was his best friend— his only one, to be fair, because every now and again her mother would glare at him and make some snide comment about being too old to play with toys. Bearsace would glare back.

And you’re too old to be judging your daughter like that, but you don’t see me complaining!

—

Mai became very sad very often because her job was not the best one. She would come home, take off her uncomfortable-looking shoes, and Bearsace would always feel his heart swell with bittersweetness anytime she came through the door.

He would wait patiently on the couch, where she placed him every morning, as Mai would slip silently into her room and change into a fuzzy pair of pajamas— Bearsace loved those pajamas!—  then, when her hair was up into a messy pile on her head, he would swell with happiness when she finally settled onto the sofa and pulled a blanket up around her legs, taking him into her arms.

Their favorite show was My Vintage Love, a story about a girl who fell in love with a CEO. Well, it was Mai’s favorite show; Bearsace didn’t care much for it. Personally, he enjoyed The Berenstain Bears, which came on the television one day while Mai was at work, but Mai never turned it on on purpose.

It was definitely one of their worst fights. 

Fortunately, it was pretty much the only thing that they fought about. Oh, and her job. Bearsace didn’t like anything that made Mai sad.

Sometimes, when she was curled up on the couch, she’d talk to him about anything and everything. Her dreams, her passions…

“Someday, Bearsace, I’m going to make clothes for women everywhere that make them feel beautiful and happy. Every single piece is going to be made with care and love...”

Like me?

“...sorta like the way I made you.”

I knew it. What will you do when you reach that high?

“I was wondering what I’d even do when I get to the top. Maybe I’ll start my own magazine, or maybe I’ll create a fashion line that emphasizes the beauty in every woman’s body, regardless of shape, size, or whatever society calls ‘imperfection.’ I loved you even before you had both your eyes; why shouldn’t every woman feel that same love?”

Yes! He cried in happiness. Yes, this is such a good dream, and I support you completely. Mai, you won’t forget me, even when you are making others as happy as you make me?

“Man, I’m hungry,” she said with a yawn, placing him on the armrest and setting him down before trudging to the kitchen. “I’m gonna go order in some takeout.”

He felt his heart pang in a little bit of disappointment. He hated it when she ignored what he said.

—

Bearsace hated Mai’s other friends. Like “love,” it took him a while to find the word for “hate,” until Mai slammed her phone into the couch, snarling,

“I absolutely hate Yuka!”

Ah, Yuka. A fine piece of work, she was. The first time he ever met her, Bearsace was on the couch as usual when Mai came home with her.

Hello! Bearsace had said, excited to make a new friend. But Yuka ignored him and tossed him to the side to make room on the couch for herself. How rude!

Not to mention, she seemed to have no idea what it meant to be a good friend, the way Bearsace did. She rolled her eyes at Mai, suggested she find something “better” to do with her time… really, how bad of a friend could one person be?

“All she ever does is beat me down on my dreams… she thinks I should go back to school for something more— more— more reasonable ?! She says I’m not talented enough to be a fashion designer? I hate that!”

It’s okay, Bearsace said, falling over into her lap. I’m here for you.

—

It was on a rainy day that Mai whooped for joy. Bearsace wished he could turn around, because currently he was seated on the couch watching My Vintage Love and he would rather be spending time with Mai.

But she came into the living room soon enough and lifted him into a hug, which made him very happy.

What’s going on, Mai?

“Oh, my dreams are so close! All I’ve gotta do is nail this job interview and then it’s no more time-wasting coffee runs for a devil boss, no more getting yelled at for even the little mistakes— no more of that for me. I’m so close!”

If a bear could dance, he would. But for now, he was content to revel in the joy that Mai felt as she danced, and danced, and danced.

—

“Fine stitching you’ve done on it,” said the interviewer.

Bearsace rolled his eyes. I’m not an “it,” he responded in a biting tone. He looked to Mai, wondering if she might share in some of the same annoyance that he did, but she held her tongue.

“I did all the stitchwork by hand,” she explained.

“Tell me, what was the reasoning behind acrylics for eyes, instead of buttons?” The interviewer poked him in the eye, and Bearsace wanted to flinch away.

Watch it, jerk. I use those to see.

Mai smiled that amused smile. “I guess I just figured it’d help him see better.”

—

When Mai got the call that she got the job, she squealed and ran into the next room to call her father. Bearsace was not jealous that she did not go to him first; after all, he knew that she would be a shoo-in, anyway.

He looked upon Mai with pride when she picked him up and squeezed him to her chest.

I knew you could do it.

“What do you say we go do something special, just you and me?”

— 

“I wasn’t expecting this much rain!”

Bearsace fit rather comfortably in her purse and was also impressed by the deluge that hit them at the temple at Honno-ji, though why Mai considered that a vacation was beyond him.

But it was special. They were there together, after all.

What absolutely was not special was this downpour! Mai’s hair was dripping, and also the hiring packet in her purse was going to get soaked. Never fear, though— Bearsace flopped over inside Mai’s bag onto the hiring packet, protecting it from the rain.

Thunder rumbled overhead and Bearsace found himself fearful; he couldn’t see anything! There were voices; one was Mai’s, and it sounded afraid, and he desperately wished to protect her. The other sounded as if it belonged to a man, and Bearsace felt alarm bells ring in his head. At all costs, he had to protect Mai.

Run, Mai, run! He had barely managed to say the words when a flash of white took over his world. All he could feel was fear.

part two / bruised. azuchi, 1582.

Bearsace didn’t like the Oda forces, or whatever other clown names they chose to call themselves.

He tried, he really did.

Hello! He cried again, excited when he saw the strange man taking a nap on the burning roof. Hello! I am Bearsace. And you are?

“I am Oda Nobunaga… How would you like to rule the world at my side?”

That seems like a pretty good deal, Mai. We should take it.

“Uhh, thanks, but no thanks.”

But that’s a good choice too.

And then they were running quickly through the bushes. Wryly, Bearsace couldn’t help but point out that they would not be running if she had taken that man’s offer, but Mai, of course, ignored him again.

— 

Bearsace tried very hard to make new friends. After discovering that he had traveled five-hundred years to the past, he was surprised for a moment, but only a moment. He was, after all, a talking bear.

Hello! He said to the man with the eyepatch. I am Bearsace. And then the man held a sword to Mai’s throat, and from that point, Bearsace would snap his teeth at him instead of greet him politely.

It’s nice to meet you! He said to the man who did not really smile, but wore a lot of yellow, which confused Bearsace, who associated yellow with the color of happiness. I hope we can look at each other happily. The man did not speak, except to insult Mai. Never mind. I hate you.

I look forward to being your close friend, he said to the man who was friendly and had a mole near his eye, and Bearsace soon discovered he liked him the best, because he was the only one who was friendly to Mai from the start.

The three who Bearsace did not particularly bother with were the one who reminded him of a snake, the one who lectured Mai too much, and the one who was dumb enough to take naps on the roof.

He didn’t really have time for negativity like that.

—

Fortunately, Mai was as smart and resilient as expected. With the help of a ninja— an actual ninja!— she built up a plan to return to the future after three months from now. That, unfortunately, meant that she was under the protection of these weirdos for the next three months. She was awfully lucky that Bearsace was there to defend her.

We’ll get through this, Mai. Together.

— 

It was very irritating, the way that those warlords seemed to fall for her within a matter of weeks and fawn over her as if she was a doll. Mai, for her part, did not seem to be getting attached, which was good, if they were going to return to the present and finish Mai’s dream together.

Following two months in the Sengoku, his friend began to spend some time away in the evening, which was nice but also lonely. Bearsace could not sleep, but he could sit and stare at the ceiling and think. Usually he would not get bored of it, except that he could not stand guard over Mai if she was not there.

She actually seemed to grow happy, which made Bearsace happy. That was really all it took, and because it seemed to be those handsy Sengoku warlords who made her so, he gave them his grudging respect.

—

Mai cried sometimes. She always wore her heart on her sleeve, but it was the small, conflicted sobs in the middle of the night that snapped Bearsace out of his daydreaming as he kept watch over her.

Don’t cry , he said as his heart ached. Please don’t cry.

It was then that Mai reached for her purse and pulled out the hiring packet, and Bearsace’s heart broke a little bit more.

We have so many plans, don’t we? You can’t be sad for those.

She sniffled and held the papers in her hand.

Look! I kept them nice and dry for you. Surely that must mean something. All our plans, all our dreams… I will stick by you. Don’t give up yet.

Mai ignored him again. She tore the papers in half.

—

“I’m not going back.”

The only person— or bear— more surprised than Sasuke was Bearsace, himself.

What do you mean you’re not going back?! You didn’t speak to me before making this choice on your own, so that we could make it together?

“I thought you might say that. What gives?” Sasuke gave that secretive smile.

“To be honest with you, Sasuke… I’ve fallen in love with Oda Nobunaga.”

You WHAT?! The roof man?!

“Oh, is that so?”

Be quiet, Sasuke. Mai, how could you not tell me this?

“Well, to be honest with you,” Sasuke continued, “I’m not going back, either. You see, I have found some employment here that I can’t bear to leave in such a tumultuous time. You understand. But Mai, by my calculations… it seems that we may be forced to return.”

Yes! Don’t give up on our dream, Mai! Bearsace exclaimed, though he immediately wished to take it back once he saw the crushed look on Mai’s face.

“Please tell me that isn’t true, Sasuke. It took a lot of soul-searching to choose that he means more to me than any desk job.”

Look on the bright side; we’ll have the chance to be happy again, in our own time, right?

Sasuke launched into a long-winded explanation that Bearsace was far too agitated to understand, but it seemed to boil down to this:

As long as Mai and Sasuke remained in the past, time itself would remain wrathful and relentless.

—

Mai stayed in her room that night and cried. She did not meet Nobunaga, whom Bearsace now realized she snuck out every night to see. She cried until Bearsace feared her chest would cave in with sadness. He leaned against her thigh and allowed her to bury her face into the top of his head until the tears stopped… and, inevitably, they would start again.

How could he have known that Mai was falling in love? In dismay, he realized that the seam between them was tearing faster than he could patch it up. He tried talking to her many times that night— would try to offer words of encouragement, that even if they had to go back, he would always support her no matter what. But no matter how loud he yelled, she only cried harder, ignoring him.

“I don’t know what to do,” she whimpered. “I can’t leave him.”

Those were the first words she had spoken since Sasuke left, and Bearsace was immediately at attention. For the first time in a long time, Mai picked him up and looked him straight in the eye, and hugged him.

With a pang in his chest, he realized that she didn’t hug him quite the same, anymore.

It’s going to be okay. Can you please, please just respond to me once? I’m so afraid for you.

Her tears stained his fur, and he didn’t realize that anything could quite hurt this bad. “What do I do, what do I do?” she repeated, as if doing so would create a solution.

Mai…

“Ugh, what am I doing…?!”

Mai?!

“I’m talking to a dumb… a dumb stuffed toy! You can’t even talk or think; why do I still even depend on you?”

She had never raised her voice at him— not even when he wanted to change the channel from My Vintage Love to just anything else. Startled, he fell backwards as Mai snarled down at him, tears in her eyes.

“Sitting here crying isn’t going to do anything. I need to think of a way to stay.”

With a note of finality, she took him out the double doors and sat him down inside the storage closet outside. The room went dark when she closed it, and he yelled for her.

— 

Bearsace did not speak for a long, long time.

—

A maid found him, once, and asked the castle head what to do with him. He said that because Bearsace belonged to the princess, she should put him back where she found him.

—

A rat ate one of his eyes and choked to death on it before the other one. It did not hurt as bad as Bearsace thought it would.

—

The roof of the closet caved in, and of all people, it was Eyepatch Man who found him.

“Ha!” exclaimed Eyepatch Man, tugging at his paws. “Mitsuhide, didn’t this belong to Mai?”

“Oh, dear. I hadn’t realized our beloved Lady Oda had forgotten anything when she left this room. How very much like her.”

“Look, he’s missing an eye. Guess he matches me, now.”

They forgot about him when they were done fixing the closet, and a castle boy put him back on top of a puddle of melted snow.

—

“Oh, it’s here somewhere…”

Mitsunari! Bearsace cried hoarsely. It had been many weeks (or months, or likely even years) since he had seen Eyepatch Man and Mitsuhide. He would have been happy to see anyone, but Mitsunari was a treat. Where is Mai? She cannot have forgotten about me…

“Just grab what you need and go. You’ll be late for the treaty-signing with the Uesugi-Takeda forces if you don’t hurry up.”

“You’re always so wise, Lord Ieyasu! I- oh, here it is!”

Mitsunari extracted a sword from the depths of the shed. It was ornate and lovely, and covered in dust.

“This will do for a fine peace offering, don’t you say?”

“A peace offering isn’t necessary, with Mai having strengthened our relationship with them so well. I still don’t understand why you were so insistent on…”

Bearsace could not hear what Mitsunari was insistent on, because neither of them saw him on the ground.

—

A young girl with carmine eyes and caramel hair was the next one who found him. Beaten down, Bearsace could offer little more than a weak hello. The girl tilted her head and tugged at a sleeve whose owner was partially hidden by the doorframe.

“Father, what’s this?”

part three / beholding. azuchi, 1592.

Nobunaga’s hands were oddly gentle when he propped the young girl on one arm and took Bearsace in the other. His face was blank, and those hawk’s eyes were boring straight into his.

But those eyes… they were softer, somehow. Content. Bearsace felt ashamed at the way he must look in those eyes that had clearly seen a happy life— were continuing to see a happy life. His face had grown tan, his hair cropped a little bit neater. A scar on his cheek that had not been there before was there now, but did not distract from his handsomeness.

That wry smirk was impossible to misplace, though.

“I recognize you, don’t I?”

“What is it?”

“Your mother made him. Have you seen her, little one?”

“She’s with my uncles.”

Bearsace was so surprised to see Nobunaga bend down to kiss the girl on the cheek that he thought his other eye might fall right off. And if the girl’s mother made him, and Nobunaga was the girl’s father…

“Leave us, Shingen and Mitsunari.”

Nobunaga had made quick time to the audience chamber, where two men and a woman were laughing heartily over a game of cards. The woman had her back to him, but she kissed the two men on the cheeks as they left, then turned around.

Her hair was shorter. Her eyes were bright, and somehow, the kimono seemed better-suited to her now than it had the last time he had seen her many, many years ago. She looked at Nobunaga and the girl with sheer love, and then her gaze dropped to Nobunaga’s other arm— where the stuffed bear sat— and turned disbelieving before filling with tears.

“Bearsace?”

...Mai?

—

Her hands were gentle as she plunged him into rose-scented water and washed away the dust of many years. Her fingers were gentle as they wove thread through his bursting sides. Her lips were gentle as she, like she had many years ago, kissed the spot where his eye would be.

“It seems like you’re just not meant to have this eye, Bearsace. I’m afraid acrylics haven’t been made yet, but between you and me, I think you’ll be just as cute with one acrylic eye and one button one.”

One thing that Bearsace had never noticed was that Mai stuck the tip of her tongue out when she sewed.

One thing that he did notice was that she was wrong many years ago when she told the interviewer acrylics would help him see better.

The button eye made his vision crystal clear.

—

“Yumi, meet Bearsace.”

It’s very nice to meet you, Bearsace said. His voice was still sore from many years of disuse. He felt an unnamed feeling in his heart when he gazed upon Yumi— Mai and Nobunaga’s daughter. Her face was impassive, but with the same spark of curiosity that both her parents possessed.

“I was… very mean to Bearsace when I was younger. Do you think that you can take good care of him for me?”

The corner of Yumi’s lips quirked upwards as she looked at her mother with twinkling eyes. She took Bearsace in her hands gently, tenderly, and kissed the top of his head.

“Good night, Yumi, and sweet dreams. I love you.”

As Mai leaned down to nuzzle her daughter’s head, Bearsace noted that she always had the makings of a fine mother. She smiled down at Bearsace next.

“I’m so sorry that I got angry at you and left you in that shed. You were always there for me when times got rough. I love you so much, Bearsace,” Mai whispered in his ear and kissed the tip of his nose.

Slowly, Bearsace felt the frigidity that had taken hold of his heart begin to melt away. He did not feel empty anymore.

I love you too, Mai. It no longer hurt when she could not respond, because he knew now that he would always be with her.

“Good night. I love you. Say good night, Bearsace.” Yumi said. She lifted Bearsace’s arm and waved at her mother with it.

For one blissful, thousand-thread moment, Mai waved back.

epilogue / azuchi & kyoto, c. 1600s-2016.

Nobunaga and Mai died hand-in-hand on a beautiful spring day after living a long and happy life together. They were the last of their friends to pass, and were buried with them, too. Bearsace had come to love the strange family he had found, who had all found each other, too.

Even if they had hated each other for so long.

When it came Yumi’s time, she held the hand of her son and made him swear to protect Bearsace with his life. And when it came his time, he did the same with his daughter, and she with hers.

Bearsace did not throw his words so much now. He spoke carefully, affectionately, and with all the wisdom he possessed after so many years.

Sometimes, he would reminisce.

The way that Mitsuhide’s lips puckered before teaming up with Masamune to tease Mai.

The way that Kenshin and Nobunaga would spar in the courtyard, scaring the maids even from across the castle.

The way that Hideyoshi nagged Yukimura, and the way that Yukimura rolled his eyes.

They made his heart blossom and wilt and laugh and cry and dance and sing— all at once. This was love, Bearsace had decided a few hundred years ago. The way he could so clearly see in his button-eye the joys that they had shared together— and the way that, after so many years, he could not help but care so deeply.

Even after all these years, Bearsace was in excellent condition because of how well everyone had taken care of him. It was why, when a great, great, great— who-knew-how-many-greats— descendant of the Oda donated him to a museum, he was placed in the center of the Azuchi-Echigo exhibit, right across from a weathered painting that explained the importance of Mai.

c.1582: An ancestor of the teddy bear, “Bearsace” was hand-sewn by Oda Mai, famous peacekeeper of the Azuchi-Echigo Treaty, then passed through the generations by her descendants. This is  one of the best-preserved artifacts of the Sengoku period. Generously donated to the Azuchi Castle Archive Museum by Oda Sakura.

“Huh. That’s weird.”

Bearsace had felt asleep for many years, missing the sound of her voice. When he heard it again, he almost felt his heart collapse in shock.

“This Bearsace kinda looks like my Bearsace.”

It took a moment for Bearsace to look down at the newspaper that Mai held in her hands, dated with the year of 2016— the year, he realized, before she and another version of him would go back to the Sengoku period. His eyes could not take enough of her in as she tilted her head, looking at him with a fond sort of bemusement.

Mai, he called, voice breaking with brilliant, shining emotion as she walked away, not thinking twice of the strange encounter. I missed you. Don’t forget to give me to Yumi, and don’t forget to sew me another eye.

But she was something of a white bird in a blizzard— he could not catch her. But he was content to watch as she walked away, farther into a life that he knew would make her very happy. This was all that he swore to do— was to protect her, so that she could finally be happy. The joy of it settled something within him, and visitors to the museum that day could have sworn that the bear’s face settled into a permanent, peaceful smile.

—

Bearsace did not speak for a long, long time.

#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikesen fanfic #oda nobunaga #nobunaga #mizusaki mai #mai #bearsace #ensemble cast #my fic #fic: broken and bruised

[sandwyrm]

   I always rant tons about things I hate in fiction and I scream tons in private about loving Elijah Kamski and disliking that many people Just Don’t Get Him(tm) so why not combine the two.

   Like pretty much everyone playing this damn game, my initial opinion on him was “god I wish I could punch him in the face”, but having seen most other paths, and having connected some dots, added to Neil Newbon’s stellar acting as the dude, he’s easily become one of my favorite characters not only in DBH but in general in fiction.

   So this is going to be “Why This One Smug Motherfucker With An Attitude You’d Love To Beat Up With A Bat Became One of My Top Favorite Characters, The Essay”

TL;DR: Elijah Kamski planned the android revolution and deviancy

   First off, let’s start by analyzing the most obvious thing: his speech and mannerism, his appearance, all play along a very common and clear trope, one that Disney especially is super fond of using:  

   It’s not just Disney that does this, there’s many other villains who follow the rule, and have been since the dawn of time. And there are many essays and articles on why a smallish physically weak man with aquiline features, calculated speech, and effeminate mannerisms, is such a recurring Look for villains, so we won’t cover that. But it’s very well used on Kamski, perhaps better than any other place I’ve seen, because in him, it is something the character has calculated for himself.     For once, we get to SEE what the Questionably Queer Villain STARTED as:

   A goddamn nerd. Just your average neighbour. Steve down in IT who comes fix your computer and spergs a little about how COOL computers are, mansplains a little about stuff you already tried because he thinks you’re so much dumber than him, sips an energy drink, and walks away leaving your computer fixed and you with a million emails you still need to answer and a questionable urge to punch him that you’ll never act upon. His mannerism isn’t there. That cadence to his voice isn’t there. He has much more genuine expressions. It is my personal opinion the actor fucking smashed this, and it’s safe to say it is an in-character change: Elijah Kamski was a damn nerd and for whatever reason turned into the Questionably Queer Villain Archetype. Ego gone to his head? Defense mechanism, to survive the sharks of capitalism? Who knows what happened in those 10 years. Who knows how much nerdier he was even longer ago? He has a PR smile going on in that interview but it’s a lot less perfected and rehearsed than the one in 2038. I honestly think it’s a very minor and yet very very stellar detail.    Ah! But this is an Extra Feature, most people wouldn’t have seen Past Kamski when they see Present (Future?) Kamski. It’s not the game’s trailer (not unless you’re brave enough to send it to your friends who aren’t into the game yet), it’s a little thing you can watch after you’ve already finished the game.     The Kamski you meet at first is this fucker

   The fucker who hangs a portrait of himself in his lobby while making you wait on him 5 minutes. The fucker who still swims three more minutes after you’ve been invited in. The fucker who just dodges every single question, and speaks to you condescendingly. The fucker who dismisses your concerns like it’s the funniest thing to him that robots are about to take over.

   The narcissist that goes all “pff Turing test is ezmode, I’m gonna make a harder test named after me which I wanna see if my robots pass.”

   And because this glib bitch is what the writers intended you to experiment at first, and this is the Kamski most everyone sees while other sides are extras or brief dialogue lines, this is where most people remain with their perception of Kamski. Just another Scar. Just another Jafar. A manipulative little bitch you wish the big buff Hero would punch in the end.    But there’s so much more to him.

The obvious: Elijah Kamski is a transhumanist.

   To sum it up: Transhumanist is what Steve from IT probably is. If you were to ask him about it, he would mansplain to you how humans are limited by flesh and poverty, and how making technology widely available and the internet free and pushing for technological advancements such as robotics is what would improve humanity. He probably has a whole wall covered in books about AI revolution and singularity, and probably believes robots are the next step in human evolution. That is, robots/cyborgs are to replace humans, and for us to leave our flawed shells behind.     Elijah Kamski is such a man, too, and barely hides it. Choice quotes: - “We had to design a machine that moves, breathes, and blinks like us. But yet is smarter and more capable than any human being.” (interview extra) - “Tomorrow they’ll replace our soldiers, and who knows, maybe one day, our leaders, to make the best decisions in humanity’s interest.” (interview extra) - “Perfect beings with infinite intelligence, and now they have free will.” (Meet Kamski) - “Machines are so superior to us, confrontation was inevitable.” (Meet Kamski) - contrast to the PR lie in the interview of “They’re machines, they cannot ever develop a conscience. Trust me.” 

   It’s clear that he thinks robots/androids would do a better job at society than humans - a lot of nerds do (just ask around, I fucking do, 7 months into 2020), and he’s not even hiding it all that clever. 

 Or maybe he just wants to fuck some robots?

   A lot of people get rapist vibes from Kamski. The creep who just made himself a bunch of sex toys because he could, and there’s nothing else to the androids as far as he’s concerned. And it’s easy to see. Like,

 super easy to see

  he’s basically eyefucking the androids

   But here’s the catch:    See, we’re so conditioned by that stereotype I started this essay with that we, and I mean myself as well, easily buy the “he just wanted some hot sex slaves” theory. Scar wants hot sex slaves. Jafar wants hot sex slaves. Frollo wants hot sex slaves. The list goes to infinity. Every time a male is acting this effeminate-flirty way on screen, it’s used to indicate he is a Deranged Pervert. I’m not gonna say where it stems from homophobia and how stupid it is very because smarter people have analyzed this phenomenon, but the bottom line is, we’re projecting something onto Kamski that isn’t there, simply because it’s everywhere else with similar characters. He designed the androids, he’s ogling the androids, and while I have no doubt he’d personally fuck each and every one of his androids, here’s the thing: He only ever touches his one Chloe in a sexual way.    There’s strippers in this game. There’s sex in this game. If they wanted Kamski to obviously be a creep, it would’ve been there. Touching those naked androids in the factory. Groping one of the twin Chloes in the pool. Touching Connor in any other way than putting a gun in his hand

   He’s not very sensual in this moment, now, is he? It’s a very casual touch, he’s there simply helping a robot aim a gun. Because as far as he knows and thinks, Connor is following his programming - explicitly forbidding him to hold guns.    And yet...

Elijah Kamski wants Connor to deviate.

   Maybe this one is obvious. Maybe it’s not.    If reading forums and reddit has taught me anything, is that people think Kamski is just trying to see if Connor is a mean deviant with these questions. Far as we know up to this point, deviants are Bad. Far as many hot takes I’ve seen, deviants are always Bad because robots don’t have feelings lol way to miss the point of the game jesus christ anyway    He isn’t putting pressure on Connor because he’s a jackass - he’s putting pressure on Connor because he knows pressure makes androids deviate.    He keeps asking trick questions - what do YOU want. What do YOU think. Time to think WHO you are.

The Kamski Test

     On the objective surface, it simply looks like Kamski is here running the Kamski test for his own pride - has he created a machine capable of sparing another machine? Dumb test, you could just program that in, couldn’t you?    Yes and no.     You could program a machine to never shoot a human or another machine - easily. And you can program a machine to prioritize solving a case, to aid the police. Empathy and critical thought are not easy things. A lot of humans would fail this test. Put a gun in someone’s hand and tell them they can shoot another human and solve all their problems, and they would do it. They fucking do it every day, over lesser things.    But that’s not the real purpose of the Kamski test, is it?     He could easily have programmed this in for a carnival trick, like he programmed writer androids, fortuneteller androids, medic androids, and everything else. The test isn’t “can Connor shoot Chloe or does he see her as alive?”    The test is, “Can Connor put Chloe’s ‘life’ above his programming and specific instructions?” The test is, can Connor’s algorithms decide Chloe’s ‘life’ is more important than his own?    Kamski knows it - Connor knows it - we know it. If Connor fails his missions, if Connor behaves too much like a human, he will be deactivated and repurposed. He’s constantly threatened by Amanda with “deviants are bad and must be destroyed.” He knows he needs to be a Good Robot and obey.    Connor’s choice isn’t “Spare Chloe or kill Chloe.” His choice is “prioritize the life of another being over his own.”

Connor Deviates

       boy u got issues that i can’t help with, godspeed you glorious idiot

But what if... he doesn’t

   Let’s check this path out for a moment.

   He’s quite... meh. He’s bored. He’s indifferent. He loses the little spark in his voice that little peppy jackass act. The rest of this encounter becomes just another boring PR stunt where Elijah Kamski acts nicely and answers questions by giving no fucking answers at all.

a ViRuS

   Mandatory Covid19 joke    We find out deviancy is probably a virus that spreads from one android to the other. You know, very useful information we’ve never found out by ourselves.    Except we also know that’s wrong, don’t we?    Markus spreads deviancy that way - but what about the first deviants? Can we backtrack to a patient zero? Not really. Many androids just deviated by themselves. Sure, they could’ve interacted with a deviant at some point I suppose, assuming...

rA9

   Ask him about rA9, and Kamski will say it’s just the first android that deviated. But that’s just a lie, isn’t it?    It can’t be the first android that deviated because most people and most androids believe rA9 is Markus - and we know Markus wasn’t the first to deviate. He was just the one to take on a leader role.    And Kamski knows of this - planned for this. He gave Markus to Carl Manfred, and he knew Carl Manfred was a damn hippie talking about revolutions and better worlds and must be filling Markus’ head with ideas of being more than he is. It was calculated.    So, either rA9 really is just a random religious thing androids rallied behind out of the blue, or Kamski is just lying. He probably is. He’s offering useless what ifs in answer to this question. Maybe it’s this. Maybe it’s that. Maybe it’s your mom and we need better jokes in 2020.

   And speaking of just lies, let’s be honest. Do you really think someone would be as dumb as to admit they started AI revolution, in front of cops? That’s why Kamski keeps playing the idiot, don’t forget. A lot of people seem to be taking his cluelessness at face value, as if they’ve never lied in person.    Kamski is openly dodging other questions, and offering half lies half truths here. That’s what I’m saying.    But even assuming Kamski doesn’t know about deviancy or rA9, for real, what about

Jericho

   When asked about Jericho, Kamski answers.    He knows what Jericho is - the place where all deviants go.    He has its location, conveniently.

Wait, Chloe?

   Interesting how the pool Chloes know they shouldn’t be peeping at the talk and we get shots of them hastily going back to their scripted chatting nonsense and trying to return to neutral expressions when “caught peeping” by the camera.    More interesting yet, whenever Hank or Connor are directly looking at any Chloe, they’re acting very stiff and robotic.    Which... every deviant does.    Including Connor.    Especially Connor.

Speaking of

   Even with Connor failing his test, Kamski insists.    Insists to remind him he still has a choice.    Insists to remind him of his escape clause (useless on this path but Kamski reminding him is there, and we’re talking about Kamski)    It’s almost as if...

Elijah Kamski wants Connor to deviate. Like, wants.

  One of the most powerful moments in the game as far as I’m concerned.   And not because Connor gets told by his creator that he’s a deviant.   Not because we’re told by his creator that he’s a deviant.   Not because Hank’s wheels start moving.   Because for that little exchange there, Connor shows genuine emotions. Connor’s LED is red. We’ve never seen a red LED Connor up to this point. iirc we don’t even after, I think the only other time is when the security guard android pulls his heart out. Getting shot leaves him on yellow. Dying leaves him on yellow. Processing complex things in 10 milliseconds leaves him on yellow if we’re that lucky, he’s usually on blue and about as unimpressed as y’all reading this essay.     Remember how I said the test is between his life and Chloe’s?    There’s no dramatic wall here. There’s no direct programming here to guide him along or that he needs to explicitly go against, like when he has to shoot Markus. This is a choice he had to make, by himself, entirely by himself, outside of bounds of his normal programming, using his own intelligence.    He has empathy, and intelligence. He is alive.

fAsCiNaTiNg~

  There is another thing that happens if Connor deviates, in that little exchange there, Elijah Kamski is no longer that glib, effeminate, Disney villain. For a brief moment, Elijah Kamski is back to being that nerd we’ve seen in the 2028 video. That nerd that is so hyped about what androids can become. He’s showing genuine joy. Genuine fascination. For a brief 30 seconds, he is no longer playing games. This is missing on the machine path altogether. Where he’s left indifferent there, he’s genuinely excited here, genuinely fAsCiNaTeD.

   Almost as if he’s happy, proud, that Connor could do it. Like watching your child take their first steps or say their first word.

   This isn’t JUST an android. This isn’t JUST another deviant. This is Cyberlife’s puppet. This android was specifically created never to deviate. And he still did. We, of course, as fine purveyors of fiction, saw it coming, but seeing it from Kamski’s perspective - it really is something he’s taken aback by. An android designed to HUNT other androids is going against his very tight programming. Of course, the both know it’s not over, but it’s a start. Indeed, like watching a child take their first step, there’s so many steps left, and there’s still the revolution.

   We never see Kamski again in the game, unless we get to the

Failed Revolution

   This is a Kamski we’ve yet to see. Not the hyped nerd in the android factory. Not the glib motherfucker dodging police questions. This is an annoyed man. A vindictive man. Sitting cross-legged in a chair. He’s that fucking villain we were always meant to see, isn’t he? Here, scheming, with his long face and Adidas tracksuit. But what’s he scheming against?

    “Wait, doesn’t this invalidate your whole fucking essay?” Nope.    Remember what I said about us being shown that Kamski was not born a glib liar and manipulator? That he learned that PR smile and smug way of speech? That he learned to be a Disney villain?    Do you really think he would just tell the press - the cops - that yes, he has totally planned for the android revolution?

   Of course he wouldn’t.    But looking under the surface - he does not return to Cyberlife when the deviancy is in full crisis. If he truly believed he should be there to stop the “error”, he’d have been there, not pushing Connor to deviate instead.     The “mistake” that he learned from is the FAILURE of the android revolution. He only ever returns to Cyberlife on this path where the androids fail to revolt. To “fix a mistake”.

   There’s one last clue in the shit puzzle,

Connor can show empathy from day 1

   Well we already know the “error” can be dormant a long time, no biggie, Connor just got Devid-38 from Daniel or something. Some other android. Maybe...    Unless...

Connor-60

   There’s one combination at the Cyberlife tower. Converting the androids, and getting Connor shot by Connor-60, which leads to the androids still converting with Connor-60, the machine, watching it.

   He reacts quite badly to failing, for a machine, doesn’t he?    Almost as if...

Deviancy is preprogrammed. And probably so is Jericho.

   Remember Chloe had the key?    Logically, why would she?    Chloe cooould be a deviant that somehow ended up back with Kamski after she found out about Jericho, and told him about it too.    Possible, but consider...:    Kamski programmed Jericho location in multiple androids, knowing they would “spread it like a virus”.    There was a little speech I’ll never find in a playthrough online, but in which it’s implied some androids just “knew” to head to Jericho “instinctively.” And one way to solve the puzzle in the police station is via instructions from Carlos Ortiz’s android. Who.... never left the fucking house.    Plus, Kamski accounted for Cyberlife controlling Connor. I mean... He says as much. He doesn’t even hide it.

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Let’s look back at the 2028 interview

Getting a little nervous there aren’t we? We ain’t never seen him fiddle with his hands anywhere else than this one question. Not in this interview, not in any other scenes with him.

Son of a bitch has one hell of a PR smile doesn’t he

and if I haven’t convinced you with my essay they admitted in some Q/A that the Kamski ending was going to be more obviously him going back to restart the android revolution. But I found that only ages after I made the connections and fell in love with the fucker.

#dbh #detroit become human #elijah kamski #long post

[tarajenkins]

Given what you've said of Vauthry, about how we're never given any chance to even try and redeem him, help him become a better person, I'd like to ask: how would you go about "saving" him? When he transforms into that Lucifer/Archangel Michael-looking guy, he seems permanently lost, but how would you write out a redemption narrative for him?

I love this ask, I hate the answer I have to give. But it’s gonna be a long response anyway, because context and because you already know I don’t know when to shut up about characters, lmao. 

SO I HOPE YOU LOVE HEARING ME RAMBLE UNDER THIS CUT (but I won’t blame you if you don’t)

I don’t think the in-game narrative allows Vauthry any chance at redemption in the current time, even if he had the agency to take it.  I don’t think we ever saw what he actually could have been. I think what we saw in Shadowbringers was the Lightwarden he’d been carrying finally “awakening”, as Innocence’s Triple Triad card put it. Or, as the X-Files put it in their eighth ep: “We are not who we are”.  

Even if that Lightwarden could be driven out of him (I know an “Aethertech” who would do anything to make that possible cough), I don’t know if he’d regain clarity he may never have had to start.  I’d love to think that he did, a long time ago. The Minstreling Wanderer tells us he can’t say whether or not Vauthry was a monster as a child, when you unlock Crown Of The Immaculate EX.

I believe the Lightwarden’s influence was driving a lot of his brutal acts of “justice”, because that is kinda their whole thing.  As for the man inside the monster?  I have a hunch he was desperate to not be seen as unnatural, and was trying to make sense out of what was happening to him in a way that would not make him a hybrid abomination. Because if he wasn’t a God, if he wasn’t this divine thing he was told he was – then what was he? The way he worded it, “this is why I was born…as man and Sin Eater both…” – it makes me feel he had, at some point in his life, at least once, ASKED why he was born as he was. That he had perceived it was wrong. He needed it to be right. And that was just fuel to the corruption fire.

The talk of godhood actually seemed to be a recent phenomenon, as no other NPC mentions a thing about it – they refer to him as “Lord Vauthry”, and speak of him in mortal terms, apart from his miraculous ability to keep the Sin Eaters at bay. He freely boasted of being a God to the Crystal Exarch, yet we’re to believe he didn’t say a word to his own people, all this time? Or that no one, in turn, would mention to us “Yyyyeah, about this guy….” Mayor Punchable Face may have told him he was a God, but it doesn’t sound like Vauthry bought into it enough to spread the good word for at least twenty years. 

Also consider he called his transformation into Innocence a “trial”. Why would a god need to be tested? And by whom?

By the time we see him in-game, it seemed he was in a rapid decline of sanity, or at least the ability to keep up appearances, and whatever was left of him was fervently clinging to the only purpose he was ever apparently given – which is exactly what that Lightwarden (and Emet-Selch) would want. 

 He was really cynical about the rest of humanity. Given his father, I can see where he’d get that from. Not that daddy told him people suck, it’s that Vauthry probably learned that by his father’s example. Maybe by the rest of Eulmore, too, but I got the impression he was kept seriously isolated from society before his inauguration. He seems to prefer being alone – he only leaves that room when he moves the Sin Eaters against Lakeland. He gives no indication he knows how to socialize, period. You either come to him, or you don’t see him. (He may be keenly aware humes don’t typically reach at least fifteen feet tall. Seriously, look at Cruelty’s size compared to player characters, now look how Cruelty makes a comfy couch for him.)

Cynical, and yet, he wanted to see the people of Eulmore’s “dreams fulfilled, their wishes granted”. Just so long as he was the one responsible, and he was the one recognized for it. He needed their acceptance. 

ANYHOO.  On to stuff I still have zero idea what to make of. 

I should preface the rest of this infodump with the fact I found the Eulmore arc to be the weakest of the expansion, between Vauthry and Ran'jit. Most of the MSQ was given nuance. Eulmore was given a Saturday Morning Cartoon sledge. A -lot- of questions, with no answers, unless Squeenix decides to be generous in a fifty-buck lore book later. (something I hated Warcraft for. I should not have to pony up for a book to understand the main story quest chain in a game.) So, here are some of the questions I’ve got:

- FOOL! THAT WILL NEVER WORK!

They don’t really explain why Emet-Selch thought corrupting an infant was a good plan, as the Sin Eaters seemed guaranteed a win on The First, if only by outlasting the survivors of the Flood. Impatience, maybe? Why not give it to the mayor? That dickpickle would’ve said yes. Maybe we’ll get more answers with the Eden raid. IT’D BE NICE *COUGH*

- The meol thing.  

It’s using Sin Eater’s non-existant flesh to make a bread, and through that bit of Sin Eater, Vauthry could control whoever ate it.  The fanbase loves the “soylent green is people” angle, but it’s done pretty haphazardly, when you think about it like that? Sin Eaters have no lasting corporeal body. They are Light, mixed with a bit of the lingering essence of whatever they originally were – and what they originally were did not have to be humanoid. They dissolve into sparklies in the air upon death – and arguably, they would not have to die to contribute sparklies to somehow mix into food. Forgiven Cruelty lost a whole wing to Thancred when Thancred first took Ryne from Eulmore, and it seemed to have grown back just fine by the time we see Cruelty again. Killing Sin Eaters also would be entirely counterproductive to a nation that devoted themselves to NOT killing them. Also – we are shown the Afflicted, people who are falling to corruption from a SIn Eater attack they’d survived. How is it people who eat meol don’t become corrupted themselves?

Where did the idea for meol  even begin? Vauthry’s father was ousted by the people as mayor before Emet-Selch said hey there, friend, you have a punchable face, let’s make a deal – and Vauthry only took control of Eulmore 20 years ago. He looks a LOT older than 20, or even 40. So his father must’ve rode his child’s coattails before then.  Did Mayor Punchable Face think that was a wise countermeasure against future insurrection? In any case, Vauthry did not exert that control until the WoL and allies were coming to kill the Lightwarden of Kholusia (him), so it did not seem to be a priority of his. Alphinaud confirmed the people were of a free mind until they were made to fight the WoL and allies. (and dialogue stressed it was very noticeable when someone was not of a free mind.) Squeenix: *throws meol into purse* I have to go plotholes came up

- The “Perverted Paradise”.  (I at least giggle every time Alphinaud says this.)

Vauthry is presented as the pinnacle of vice, yet the game does not really show this well – in some cases, not at all.

Gluttony: He isn’t shown to indulge in drink, let alone overindulge. Apart from the meol scene at the end, which was related to controlling the Eater-corrupted citizenry, not gluttony, he was not shown to have so much as a snack. There’s food in his chamber, all of it untouched. But! In the Shadowbringers trailer, Squeenix thought the best example to showcase Eulmore’s decadence was – three thicc'qotes. Having pleasant conversation ‘round a table. Eating fresh fruit.

Not the creepy-ass old patron who thinks that  since his pretty servant can’t sing anymore, she should be “Ascended” as a kindness, although it was implied she could have recovered her health, just not her voice. Not the guy who tossed his servant from a balcony because reasons and wanted us to bring him back. Not even the noblewoman trying to have her servant killed because her lecherous husband put designs on the poor girl.

Three thicc'qotes. Having pleasant conversation ‘round a table. Eating fresh fruit.

We get it, Square, we’re supposed to see he’s fat and think that is bad. Moving on.

Lust: He doesn’t visit the adult nightclub downstairs (the adult nightclub that is shown practically empty and behind closed doors, the lewdness of it all – I clutch my pearls.) He doesn’t  creep on your player character like Magnai did in Stormblood – he doesn’t creep on anyone. He doesn’t want you to be his steed. No interest is shown in the Sin Eaters apart from them fighting for him, as much as some people in the fanbase theorize he is fucking them. (They probably think that Spirited Away is about the sex industry and My Neighbor Totoro is about dead girls, too.) This game is pretty blatant when they intend that sort of thing, see: Yotsuyu, Sastasha, any number of things in Ishgard or Ul'dah. I’ve found nothing here, except the German translation for “Consort Of Sin: Forgiven Obscenity” is “Purified Fornication: Playmate Of The Redeemer”. Since this is not implied in any other translation, I put my trust in Koji Fox and the fact Obscenity’s job seems to be Official Nose Petter to Forgiven Cruelty.

Greed: I am not going to hold his rings and his robes against him, as Urianger has just as much bling (more, actually), The wealthy are made to give up ALL their fortune to be permitted to stay in Eulmore ��� but that wealth is then used to provide everything for free to those who live there, and the free citizenry are apparently given funds for private use to boot. If they intended to show that Vauthry was using all that for hookers and blow for himself, it did not convey well.

Wrath: If one has broken the rules of the city (or has thrown shade that takes him a full two minutes to catch), Vauthry definitely has this in spades, with a temper tantrum a lot like Philia’s Fierce Beating attack.  But again, the writers don’t really show the extent of the wrath they are trying to tell . Because if you don’t break the rules? Nothing happens, apparently. Trouble seems to have to be brought forward to him, he doesn’t go looking for it.  It didn’t feel any different to me than the Grand Companies, yet this is the one that finally makes Alphinaud do the *GAAAAASP*.

The populace does not seem afraid of Vauthry. In fact, they feel free to pop ‘round to have a word if they think something needs doing. Chai-Nuzz did not seem distressed by his wife’s suggestion she would have a word with Vauthry to soothe the “hard feelings” stirred up in the quest “Emergent Splendor”.  

Pride: He has great pride in his ability to keep the SIn eaters under control, but doesn’t really display any vanity in himself. No portraits, statues, etc. When Alphinaud interfered with Kai-Shirr’s punishment, Alphinaud was told he’d be permitted to stay in the city if he made a painting – not a portrait of Vauthry, but of the city itself.

Sloth: We get it, Square, he’s fat and he sits down, moving the FUCK on.  No actually, hold up, to be honest? As tired and :| as he looked all the time, he struck me as depressed. What guy in Paradise looks that haggard?

NOW moving on.

Envy: If my theory holds, probably plenty of unresolved envy for folks who are not “half Sin Eater”. Otherwise, I can’t think of an example here.

- “Ascension” (Sure thing, Jan)

This is only made reference to in the Weeping Warbler quest chain. “As all know, the sin eaters exist to devour the sinful. But also do they serve to gather the souls of the innocent, and shepherd them unto celestial paradise.”

Sin eaters ate a meal that represents the sins of a household you fool oh wait this is The First

The thing I don’t get here is - why are there obviously limitations on who can be ascended, and when? If the idea is strictly to feed the Sin Eaters, or make meol, or just be an asshole, why is this the only time we hear of it?

It’s like if there are no more mortals, Vauthry wouldn’t have that reassurance he is doing good anymore. Either that, or since he’s never worked in retail, he doesn’t know how to push features.

But I’m betting on the former.

- LASTLY: the hypocrisy of the writer’s narrative (and the fanbase).

Tesleen was our first and horrifying sample of what Sin Eater corruption can do to a human. No matter how strong her will may have been, she was just lost to it. She scratches madly at her face when she uses one of her attacks in Holminster Switch, as though trying to stop herself, or punish herself. But she can’t help it. And we know this.

Titania was a tragedy, had to be stopped. But, a TRAGEDY. Whatever was left of the benevolent ruler was corrupted. There was never a moment where our heroes went “dis binch just evil, they gotta go down”. ( I had many choice words for Titania when I wiped enough times to them, but no actual game dialogue really says it. )

We, the Warrior Of Light, came this close to becoming a Warden ourselves. Somehow it was stalled (convenience!), but there was never a question corruption = bad and out of our control.

Vauthry, on the other hand, is treated as though he is in full control of his faculties, although the corruption before birth makes that questionable at best and he pretty clearly is not? Even as he did that Exorcist neck-twist, no one was like “oh fuck, the Sin Eaters got to another one, damn that poor man”.  (Which would seem a logical conclusion to me, I hate we have like zero real say in our characters’ reactions) Not even a “ahaha okay no seriously what the fuck is going on guys”. Nope. Their reaction was “EVIL”.  Trying to help somehow was never on the table. Watching him die slowly at our feet was.

We saw the Echo of the real circumstance of his birth. It had to come from the Sin Eater that corrupted him, because he wasn’t out of the womb to see that scene play out. Or Emet-Selch. Either way, we saw it, yet at no time afterward do we try to bring the truth out. We just let everyone believe he was evil by choice, and not another casualty of this mess.

And remember earlier, how I said Alphinaud confirmed the free citizenry were not under Vauthry’s control until the fight? Remember the noblewoman whose husband went after their bonded servant, and so she tried to get the girl murdered?

Yeah, we catch up to that noblewoman who tried to murder her servant. She feels really bad about that now.  And what is an option we get to tell her ex-bonded servant when she wonders how she could possibly trust the woman who tried to kill her?

“Vauthry’s society brought out the worst in people…”

Fffffffuck you Square lmao

TL;DR:

In private RP land? In private RP land, where we can back the fuck up in the timeline at will? You are damn skippy that Lightwarden got purged before it took complete hold. (an Aethertech did it with SCIENCE.) And Vauthry is cynical and scarred and bitter and broken and betrayed, but he’s not evil. If anything, he’s actually pretty relatably human. And he’s actually pretty damn glad his father’s shitty legacy is over.

#FFXIV #Vauthry #LONG ASS POST #Shadowbringers #I am so sorry Unna

[mauriooo]

Tell us your OCs. I. Have. Intrigue

oh okay um-

first off here’s a link to the masterlist

second a quick explanation of all my non-fandom ocs’ universes i guess? putting them under a cut cos they are LONG… sorry if you just wanted a brief summary of the characters themselves i just saw an opportunity to info dump about all the worldbuilding i’ve done and i took it

the universe with all of the animal ocs (Skye-Inklii on the masterlist) is definitely my most worked-on universe to date cos of all the semi-connected stories in it, the complexity of the world, and the pantheon i’ve kind of come up with? basically it takes place on a continent that has yet to be named but it’s a big place in the middle of an ocean called the Sparkling Sea. the continent is divided into multiple “Kingdoms,” all surrounding the Royal City (where the most important families live) in the middle of the continent. these kingdoms include the Ocean Kingdom (basically a huge gulf connected to the Sparking Sea filled with water-dwelling people, who aren’t mermaids but do have gills and stuff along with the general frame of land-dwellers) and the Smoldering Kingdom (formerly a prosperous matriarchy that was a hotspot (hah) for trading, next to a volcano. almost completely desolated by a conflict commonly known as the Brushfire War, with Ka being the only survivor. residents here were often confused for actual fires from afar, considering their particular subspecies often had small flames all over their body, which could not be snuffed out.). the Royal City is surrounded by an area known as the Outskirts (working name), where people like Skye, Pine, and Lavender who didn’t really have any particular elemental traits of any kind or came from a different kingdom lived. this area is known for having a bustling market and a diverse populace, unlike the other kingdoms whose residents almost always look similar. also there’s a royal family in the Royal City that rule most of the continent (each Kingdom has their own government but really the royal family is up top). the royal family has a royal scientist (undertale influenced a bunch of this ok), currently Hawthorn, previously his father Bramble. Bramble did a bunch of bad stuff so I’m not gonna dwell on him. garbageboy stinkman belongs in the toilet

the universe with Hazel and the ghosties is a universe where basically it’s almost the same as real life but magic, ghosts, demons, and angels exist and it’s not as technologically advanced (phones exist but color tv does not and people don’t rely as much on technology) Hazel and Michael/Virus both have some angel and some demon blood, Michael having more demon than angel and Hazel with vice versa, both having wings of some sort due to this. both their parents are basically human but their descendants (from a time where demons and angels were free to walk the earth) had children with demons/angels and some of those traits got passed down. it’s very rare to pass down traits from one of these entities (about 1 in 1,000 for just one) but Ezekiel/Chance got very lucky and got a little of both, compared to his siblings Cassidy/Jinx and Lisa/Boo who got nothing (but after becoming ghosts Jinx did get some demon traits and Boo got some angel traits). not all ghosts are friendly so those with an affinity for locating the undead are hired to exorcise houses and whatnot, called “ghosters.” Michael was one of the more famous ghosters and so he’s commonly called upon to help in areas, so he and Hazel traveled a lot. i should also mention that with certain rituals one can summon a ghost to help with something (finances, love, etc.) but it’s very hard to pull off (to stabilize a ghost and keep it from returning to the afterlife you have to make a very special necklace from specific gemstones depending on the ghost, and one for yourself to make sure the ghost can’t hurt you and it has to obey your orders (although you can free it to do what it wishes if you want)) anyways there’s a really dangerous demon that broke free from a seal placed on it hundreds of years ago commonly referred to as the Stalker, the Nothing, and things like that. Michael unknowingly accepted a job to rid an abandoned house in a quaint little town of this thing, and brought Hazel with him. it uh… didn’t go well :D this thing HATES angels cos a half-angel sealed it away so it attempted to kill Hazel because she bears a strong resemblance to the being that sealed it away. Michael didn’t like that so he barely managed to seal it away for a few more years but got like,,, a LOT of vital organs ripped out in the process. this, understandably, traumatized Hazel cos that was her last living family member being ripped to shreds in front of her so she went back to the town where she, first, scared 99% of the population cos she was DRENCHED in blood but then she got cleaned up and sent to a nearby orphanage where she was immediately adopted by a p mean family cos they thought she could summon a ghost to make them rich? she ended up summoning Virus (who didn’t recognize her cos ghosts lose most of their memories except for their moment of death, Chance is an exception), and then Jinx, Chance, and Boo all at once cos they died within a few minutes of each other. this took a hard right into backstory territory so imma move on

Gardenia and Ashe live in a world where, rarely, children will be born with their souls basically attuned to an element of nature (often with different subclasses) or creature. these phenomenons are called elementals and mutants, respectively. even rarer, however, is a child being born as both. Gardenia was born without eyes, with the left side of her face being just smooth where her eye should be and the right having a, well, gardenia growing in the place of an eye. also when she bleeds small flowers grow in the wound, which was assumed to be a sort of defense mechanism to plug the wound. because of these, when she was born, she was designated a plant elemental of the flower subclass. ashe was born part-fire elemental, part-salamander mutant. they both ended up at a school specifically for elementals and mutants where they could learn not to destroy things, which is where these two met in about 7th grade? they stayed friends since then and eventually fell in love (even if Gardenia couldn’t see Ashe, she loved her personality and her voice). probably the only universe with no murder so far

Meredy and Connor are robotic entities known as “mechae,” Meredy being made to entertain while Connor was made to fix. these entities were mass-produced to help humans in a futuristic society. they are made with 6 chips: Empathy, Ethics, Functionality, Memory, Intelligence, and Personality. if one of these chips break the entire mecha basically breaks and has to be recalled. Nikki is just a reclusive mechanic who works with Connor because xe saved him from being scrapped after faulty wiring and a broken Functionality chip were discovered upon his activation, causing him to frequently experience small shocks that either overload his system and shut him down or just make him unable to move for a few minutes. Nikki is trying to fix him up but for now just hides him from the public because xe doesn’t want him to be taken away from xir. Meredy is just a broken entertainment mecha whose Functionality and Ethics chip went haywire during a performance, causing uh... not great things? no one died but they got p injured cos metal is heavy and she ran away, eventually getting to Nikki’s shop after they met in a back alley while Meredy was hiding and Nikki was fishing for parts. that’s basically all i have for now

oh christ where do i start with the zodiacs. okay lady fate got sick of having to look after EVERYONE after they died so she basically chose 15 random people (1 for each zodiac sign except for Gemini and Pisces, who got 2) and made it so when they die (mostly by unfortunate circumstances) they go to a special place in the afterlife where every dead person is called their Dominion (i. e. Aquarius Dominion, Taurus Dominion, etc.), and every person in this world goes to the Dominion corresponding to their zodiac sign where the corresponding Zodiac... doesn’t exactly rule over them but controls the Dominion in a way? they basically get to decide what everything looks like and stuff and they get to live in a big ol mansion with everything they could ever need. all of the Dominions are spread in a circle around a central area known as the Hub where people from different signs can intermingle. the entire area has this neat little feature where once you die and get there, any physical ailments are gone. couldn’t walk while you were alive? well now you can! missing one or more limbs? you can choose to get cool substitute limbs made of sparkling ether that function like normal limbs! were you experiencing gender dysphoria in life? your new body fits your preferred gender! finally, you get a necklace or other piece of jewelry that designates your sign so people can tell what you are! i haven’t worked on this world as much cos i didn’t have too many ideas at first but i really like it :o

Endris and Kyu are demons under service of the Demon King. Endris is a demon species known as a Kahre, a genetically engineered soldier race, but his test tube broke and it was too dangerous to put him in a new one so he’s just smol and ended up as a personal servant to the king. Kyu is a Senru, a general/advisor race, who’s like... a giant suck-up. he mostly refers to Endris as “defect” unless he’s saying that Kyu needs to go speak with the king for a bit because then he’s all sunshine and rainbows. there are also the Erina, small scientists and doctors, and Wisps, tiny lil servants that are often formed when a new soul enters the Underworld. i really liked designing all the demons for this universe and i’m prolly gonna make more uwu

Carrie and Zade just live in a normal world? like they could totally be real people in real life and their stories wouldn’t change. Zade, who is Carrie’s best friend since they were toddlers, is a trans guy, so he was having all sorts of anxiety when he had to explain to her why he would rather not be called the name she’s been referring to him as for 10 years. she was definitely fine with it though. as long as he’s happy, she’s happy! but Zade started transitioning in like 8th grade so most other people weren’t as nice cos middle school sucks, and Carrie was basically his only friend for a while. Carrie eventually figured out (mistakenly, i might add) that she was the reason Zade was getting bullied so she assumed that if she was gone he would be happier and have more friends so uh... she did a self oof? her assumption was wrong, obviously. but people did leave him alone for a while to let him grieve.

sorry for the dark turn at the end? but yeah that’s a basic explanation of most of my original universes \ ( -ワ- ) / if you have any questions feel free to ask! also PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let me know if i’m being offensive in any way in any of these??? i really don’t want to offend anyone but i’m an idiot so yeah i probably screwed up a lot

#mauri speaks #mauri answers #floralianspiderboynova #ocs #my ocs #mauris ocs #came up with a lot of this on the spot :D #didn't want to disappoint #but also did want to eventually come up with location names #this took a really long time i hope you're happy #tw suicide #tw suicide mention #tw implied suicide #tw implied transphobia

[spidersmiceandeverythingnice]

Gonna write my scatterbrained Spicy Hot Takes on Agartha before the news is stale and I delete this annoying and boring chapter from my mental landscape, so bear with me:

I think Agartha’s main issue was just straight up poor writing. The Japanese direct translations being as downright offensive as they were is one thing - but overall, the chapter is just one plot contrivance after another. It tries so, so hard to go for a certain tone but can’t seem to stick to any one thing or idea. Disregarding themes about sexuality probably would have been the very best way to go about this chapter, since I think the most interesting part was the theme about storytelling and in-authenticity - we all know that That Line was annoying af in a game like FGO, but it CAN work in a series like Fate as a whole. I had a helluva long day at work so allow me to explain in the least scatter-brained way I can manage right now:

Here’s what I’m thinking: Scheherazade, whose name I guarantee I will spell wrong/differently every time I write it even though I’ve been able to pronounce it properly since I was thirteen (I was in a speaking competition and told some of the Thousand and One Nights using her framework as the opening monologue, long story short ANYWAY -) is traumatized by her ordeal with the king. This is a really good and interesting thing to explore! Fitting it in with the theme of storytelling - Scheherazade is deeply afraid of dying and will do whatever it takes to live, so she makes a fantasy world and fills it with legends, and feeds their energy to a Holy Grail. With this, and the power of a Demon God at her side, she plans to reveal magic to the human world in the most destructive fashion possible, allowing the fantastic to become ordinary, and destroying the Throne of Heroes itself in the process. Fate is a series were stories have power - but Scheherazade survived basically by telling the most fantastical, interesting tales she could and never finishing them. She always would pause in the middle, and say, “That’s all for tonight.” I think this is the kind of thing we can run with in terms of setting.

Dahut is the weirdest example because it’s the one story in the chapter that I know next to nothing about. At one point it’s mentioned that Dahut is impossible to summon as a Servant, and so Drake was “forced” into the role of the Pirate Princess. Ys is probably the weakest part of the chapter for that, but I did like the idea of her being “Drake Alter,” where Drake vibrantly pursues her goals and desires but takes nothing for granted; Dahut gives into her every whim and takes absolutely everything for granted. The conflict between “Drake” and “Dahut” should have been emphasized more instead of having the player/Da Vinci dismiss her as “Oh, it’s not Drake, except when she conveniently comes back to delivery us the MacGuffins Ex Machina in the eleventh hour.” Dahut has little connection to Drake - it’s not her story, but a role she was forced into because Scheherazade was building a very specific kind of world. Therefore it is inauthentic. Perhaps that’s all it needs to be in this context. 

This can also work with the Amazons. Scheherazade never told stories of the Amazons, but she has access to basically all stories in the world through her Noble Phantasm - she learns that they are a society of warrior women who live without men, and so decides that they will be a society which oppresses men due to her fear/bitterness towards men after the ordeal she suffered through. The “oppressing men” plotline was honestly dumb all around but using the Amazons as a mechanism to explore Scheherazade's trauma would’ve been more interesting than just having them be the Big Bad before the Big Bad Columbus Reveal: Scheherazade doesn’t like fighting, but wishes that she had been strong enough to protect herself. Because she views herself as a coward and her ordeal with the king has complicated her view of sexuality - “I’m better suited to a bedchamber than a battlefield” - she uses the Amazons of Agartha as a mechanism to cope. 

This brings us to Wu, whose design I’m still not happy about even though I think the in-story justification is somewhat fair. (Let Helena and Wu be gray-haired grannies together or so help me!) Wu was absolutely an authoritarian ruler who did, in fact, invade and conquer several nations and institute a terrifying network of secret police. In her later life, she was given to decadence - but her tenure on the throne showed her to be a highly competent administrator. Notably, she ruled over an era of religious tension and balanced matters quite well, and though she was accused of undoing meritocracy to put her supporters into power, many of the men she appointed held positions in government long after she’d died because they were actually good at their jobs. Wu has been heavily mythologized over the years - later Tang emperors and Neo-Confucian scholars wrote her off (Wu founded her own dynasty under her own name, so they kind of had to legitimize it somehow), she became associated the nine-tailed fox spirit thanks to a few popular novels and poems, etc., etc., etc. The crazy thing is that Wu actually left very few records of herself behind, apart from some poems. Even the inscription on her tomb is blank! People can say whatever they want about her - it’s extremely difficult to know the full truth of the matter without any objective observers in the field (and without Wu’s own words to give context/another story), especially if you don’t read any Chinese. 

BTW - the first thing I learned history class is that when you’re dealing with primary sources, you must always remember that translators have agendas. Every word is a deliberate choice, and it changes the meaning from the original text. When dealing with historical documents, this is not always a good thing. 

Scheherazade reads some, but not all of these stories, and integrates Wu into her world as the sadist empress with an iron grip on her decadent mythical city. 

Do you see what I’m getting at here? It’s a lot, but I’m not done. Now we have to deal with Columbus - there’s “In Defense of Columbus” video is floating around in the Agartha tag, but I haven’t watched it in full and haven’t done like, any intensive research on Columbus in particular, so I’m going to apologize right now for any historical inaccuracies/misconceptions that I’m about to write. The point I want to make here mainly is that Columbus, like Wu, has been heavily, heavily mythologized for both good and evil at various points. The thing about Columbus that is also interesting is that the authenticity of his journals is or was apparently a subject of debate. The man who published most of them actually happened to be Bartolomew de las Casas - one of the founders/first vocal supporters of the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade. The reason de la Casas supported this is because he believed that using African labor would be an improvement over enslaving the native populations of the New World. Soon after, he had a change of heart and devoted the rest of his life to fighting against slavery in all forms. De la Casas went on to be named a saint, and was possibly the first person in history to propose the idea of universal human rights - which is how I had heard of him until literally just this afternoon; I had no idea he’d ever supported the slave trade until I was looking up basic info about Columbus’s writings so I could write this long-ass post. History is full of complicated people. 

But as I mentioned in Wu’s bit, it’s very important to note that in many ways, Columbus is literally just whatever people decide he is. Like, he never even set foot in any land that would become the United States, and yet he’s a huge symbol here! Along these lines, his amnesia would fit the theme of inauthentic storytelling, choosing what to read and what to believe in. Columbus regaining his memories was an understated moment, which is actually fucking fantastic because it could be used to really emphasize the choice that is being made here. He’s a Heroic Spirit who can choose to be whatever he wants. He can choose to be the simple hero-explorer that schoolchildren sing about, or he can choose to be the Big Bad, the first and perhaps most infamous conquistador. And he chooses to be the bad guy. That is so fuckin’ fantastic, y’all! I honest to God love that not only did FGO portray Columbus as a villain of history but that the bad reputation is something he chooses to maintain! I can write a list of Servants who were less than stellar people and got a makeover for Fate. Nero is probably one of the worst examples but like - Ozymandias absolutely owned slaves in his life as a pharaoh. Hercules and Medea murdered their own children. Asterios literally ate humans as the Minotaur. Gilles de Rais exists as a playable character. Jack the Ripper is your daughter. Hell, Nobunaga burned temples with the monks still inside - but she feels bad about it now! Enough digressing but I a hundred percent get why Japanese fans found Columbus “refreshing” at his introduction. He owns his cruelty, his desire to exploit others - he challenges the narrative that everyone is redeemable because he doesn’t even want to be redeemed, he just wants to get rich and famous, and he doesn’t give a shit who he steps over in the process! Like, Columbus said, “I’m just doing what comes naturally,” at one point when he still had amnesia, so when he got his memory back and turned on the player, I really would’ve liked for him to say is something like, “You’ve already decided that I’m the bad guy, right? You know my story, and I’m nothing if not a man of my word.”

These kinds of questions/debates could have been used to emphasize the themes of Agartha. Legends are what people decide they are. People make choices and history decides whether they were good or evil or important retroactively. Can you know what someone is like by reading a translation of their poetry? Can you judge a king’s reign by the words of their successors or their rivals? Does the context of a story matter? This all could have been super interesting to explore!

Like I said, the main theme of Agartha being “inauthentic storytelling” could have been hella, hella good considering that this is a world created by Scheherazade’s fears and trauma feeding into her escapist desires. But Minase’s incompetence as a writer made everything so hamfisted and awkward that everything just suffered under his desire to insert his fetishes at every moment. It was so obvious that he didn’t read any material for old Fate characters - like Astolfo you poor sweet thing, you deserved so much better! - and even the new characters that he clearly did research on, like Columbus, fell flat because he couldn’t figure out what he was trying to say beyond mildly-to-extra offensive sex jokes.

#i'm tired so i may not reply to any responses but i had to get this out of my system because it's been nagging at me #like... it could've been good #it could've been at least decent if minase just... knew how to deal with a theme and read up on some fate character materials #but he didn't do that and so now we have This Mess #fate grand order #agartha nonsense #also disclaimer i did the baaaare minimum of research for parts and didn't even dig up my Empress Wu Research Paper docs #but like now that i've got this off my chest i'm gonna be done wasting time thinking about agartha since it was just so.... #not even like that it was especially bad it was just... lifeless and insipid #thank goodness holmes told us it wasn't even canon lmao

[phoenixisstrange]

The Best Day Forever Chapter 1 (Edited)

But I am wrong. It begins with me, in a nice suburban house doing my own thing going about my day. I guess I live here? I don't know who I live with or if I live alone but I encounter neighbors and friends (I don't remember specific interactions). I don’t even know how I got this beautiful house OR what town it’s in. It’s like someone created me and my life, peppered in some aspects of my personality and memory and dropped me into it. So I wake up in my? bed. 

I wake up, make myself breakfast, and acquaint myself with my neighborhood. As if I haven’t lived here for quite some time-- judging off of the bills I have sitting on the counter waiting to be paid. I open the front door. It’s a big wooden door with a little window that has decorative iron bars encasing it. Whoever designed this house did a damn nice job. I admire my front door as if I’ve never seen it before. As I step out onto my front porch I am greeted by a symphony of wildlife and a beautiful panorama of the forest. This was an intentional design point of the house. The way the forest sits inside of the frame of my porch is so perfect that it must be deliberate. The facade of my house faces a dense forest but I do have neighbors on either side of my property. 

To the left I see a mother herding her 3 kids into her minivan, well trying at least. One of the kids is running around screaming; wearing only one flip flop on. The other kid has dropped her bookbag on the ground. The third sits strapped into the car quietly. “Brandy stop moving and put your damn flip flop on, we’re going to be late!” the mom corrals her child into the van. 

I chuckle and breathe in the crisp morning air as it mingles with the scent of my piping hot coffee. The house to the right is a bit smaller and nobody seems to be home. After I finish my coffee, I go back inside and look at my schedule. It’s my day off.

I text my girls, Iz and Cree to see what they’re up to. I guess they also live in the area. Whatever the area is. The girls arrive and we set up camp in my warmly-lit living room. A low-budget Netflix horror movie plays in the background as we sip our Rosé.

 “So how’s Carter?” I ask Iz.

 “He’s good, he’s interviewing for a job at a new dealership as a sales manager”

“Good for him, I wish him luck in all his managerial endeavors” I say with a little too much enthusiasm. 

“Phoenix---How’s your love life??” She did it. She asked the dreaded question.

“Heh, funny you should ask… You would probably have an easier time finding a human being on Mars than I would finding a lover. ” Wow, I’ve actually lost count of how many times I’ve answered that. Me? Jaded? Never. Just realistic. I have too much going on to focus on finding someone right now. That’s what I tell myself at night when the loneliness hits. 

“Unfortunately my lover either doesn’t exist or doesn’t want me.” I add. You can practically see my dignity leaving the room. 

“Sometimes you just gotta ride the wave alone...” Cree-- who appears to be catatonic on the couch-- mutters from beneath a blanket. 

“Facts” Iz and I say in unison.

We finish a bottle of wine and cook some ramen. I never eat Ramen, I can’t stand it. But Iz and Cree love it so I guess that’s why my cabinets are stacked with the stuff. Either that or I am preparing for the inevitable collapse of our organized society. In that case, I know for a fact that I won’t go hungry. There’s so many packets of chicken flavored instant noodles hiding in my cabinets that I could feed a tribe in the post apocalyptic world.

The fragrance of the salty noodles dances with the incense that burns in the living room. The sound of a woman being possessed by the devil blares from the tv speakers.

“Haven’t we watched this movie already?” Iz clearly isn’t into it. “Probably, but all Netflix horror movies are the same. They usually end up as white noise anyway.” 

“I like it.” Cree chimes in

“If Cree thinks it’s a good movie, then obviously it’s a good movie Iz.” Sarcasm. 

“Cree said Suicide Squad was her favorite movie. She cannot be trusted to judge a good movie!” 

“Everyone thought that movie was so bad but y’all just don’t appreciate good art.” Cree stands firmly by her decision.

The movie concludes with the predictable ending where the antagonist--who has succumbed to demonic possession-- is cleansed of evil through a dramatic exorcism. The entire house that the movie is set in is destroyed. This forces the traumatized family to move out of the beautiful home they recently purchased. The movie ends on a cliff-hanger where a new family moves into the very house--which has now been repaired--in hopes to start a life. Boring.

The girls leave at about 11 pm. I take a quick shower and pour myself a glass of seltzer. Nights like this are ideal for stargazing. Not a cloud in the sky and cool enough to have the windows open in the house. Apparently, I missed my mark. I open my door to a rather jarring sight. Expecting the usual chirping of the cicadas and a star speckled sky; I am met with a rising sun. The sky is not an 11 pm sky it’s a 6 am sky. I’m confused and kind of scared. My mind starts to race. How drunk did we get last night? It was just a few glasses of wine not enough to black out the entire fucking night. I text Cree and Iz. No response. I figure they’re sleeping. 

My phone says 5:47 am on Saturday, 7/23. My day off is Saturday, which would be the 23rd. Saturday was yesterday. I turn on the TV to verify the date and News 12 confirms my fear of today’s date, 7/23. The annual family cookout is being held tomorrow at the park. 4 pm sharp, don’t miss it! Did I skip work yesterday? No way, I would’ve gotten a call. My head is spinning at this point and I decide to lay down for a bit.

The sound of the news 12 anchorwoman echoes in my head. “This weekend is going to be a hot one. Anyone planning on traveling west towards the coast should take care to leave a little bit early because of heavy delays along all major highways.” 

I drift in and out of consciousness and finally give up. I’ve watched the sun rise through the skylight that is fixed above the couch. That big ball of fire has climbed straight into the center of the skylight. The big ball of fire is blinding me. The time is 8:30 according to my phone. I barely slept a wink. My mind was too busy trying to figure out if I was going batshit or if I was actually trapped in a temporal loop. I mean, that would be cool because then that would mean that time loops do exist but not cool because of the fact that I would be caught in one by myself. 

My phone buzzes to life with a message from Iz. “What are you talking about? Ladies night didn’t happen hunny.” I’m wigged. 

“Must’ve dreamt it! We need a night soon, hunnies.” I reply. 

“Ok Phoenix… This is the sitch, yesterday was Friday. You accidentally skipped work and today is Saturday. Wine night was just a dream because you have been missing Cree and Iz lately…” I am rambling to myself in the dark. Yes, that will spare my sanity. I drag myself off the couch since sleep isn’t happening. I step outside at around 9. Once again, the forest is roaring with life and so is the mother next door… 

“Brandy stop moving and put your damn flip flop on, we’re going to be late!”…. I need to leave.

I go to the store and begin piling snacks and random food items into my cart. It’s been a while since I’ve been food shopping so this is OK. 

“Ice cream and wine. Check.” I say to myself. Drink myself out of the loop. Yeah, that’ll work. I see this really cute girl staring intently at a box of Gushers. For a second, it’s as if my world isn’t imploding on itself and I’m just at the store looking at a beautiful girl I’d like to know. For some reason, she’s engrossed by these artificially flavored fruit snacks. It looks as if she’s deep in thought, something is on her mind so she is occupying the time with food shopping. She’s about my height; she’s got long and silky chocolate brown hair that’s pulled back into a messy bun. I realize that I’m staring at her with as much focus as she is at those Gushers. She feels my eyes and returns to reality, she glances at me. A subtle smirk spreads across her face as she looks me and my wine bottles up and down.

“The bigger the bottle the bigger the problem huh?” She jokes. 

“No bottle will solve this problem but at least it’ll make me forget about it.”

 She chuckles and walks away. I buy my wine bottles and go home to forget what day it is. 

Listen, I won’t lie, I like to party. I love day drinking. But cracking open a fresh bottle of wine the size of a bowling pin at 10 am by myself after realizing I may never live to see tomorrow is new for me. I can’t say I hate it. I sit on the couch. The News 12 anchor-bitch is still blabbering about the family cookout-- that is supposed to take place tomorrow-- too bad. I drunkenly type away on my laptop. Scouring the darkest corners of the internet to find out anything about time loops that exist outside of science fiction. Turns out, not many people who find themselves in my situation take to Reddit to write about it... I take notes from the Twilight Zone subreddit because at this point I’m desperate for answers. My quest for information bears no fruit. 

I did learn that a time loop is different from a causal loop, which would occur because of a previous event. My situation however, is anomalous and is unrelated to anything as far as I know. I’ve started a fresh note on my laptop titled “The Best Day Forever! :)).” This is where I dump everything I know about the situation. 

So far, I know that this loop resets but I don’t know the interval or the trigger. Things that I interact with seems to stay the same with the exception of people, they don’t remember our interactions. The coffee I made the first go around was still in the pot when I went for coffee round 2. People and things outside of my control reset as if they’re characters in a video game who have a script and a path. I begin thinking, dangerous thinking. 

“Why is this happening? Why to me?” I ask aloud as if someone is going to answer me. At this point, I wouldn’t be shocked if I got an answer from some omniscient voice. 

“What is the point of all of this?” I ask out loud again. Then I begin to think of everything I had done leading up to the moment I woke up on the morning of July 23rd the first time. My memory is extremely fogged, almost non-existent. I’m struggling to produce even the vaguest memory of anything that happened before Saturday. Was it raining yesterday? Did I even leave my house yesterday? I don't know. 

Come to think of it I don't remember much of anything before Saturday. I don’t know how I got this house. I don't know who Iz and Cree are except that we’re friends and have wine nights pretty often--though they have been less frequent for some reason. I don’t know Carter…But I do. 

It’s as if these memories were fabricated. I remember the facts. I, Phoenix, own this house in this pacific northwestern town and I am a barista at a local coffee shop. I moved to this town after graduating-- in hopes to pursue my dream of opening my own shop and building a house in the forest. Anything beyond that is smudged. I can make out the memory if I hyper-focus. But even then it’s just the blueprint of a life, details are scarce. I’m spiraling, existential crisis mode has initiated and now I’m just stressed out and drunk at 1 in the afternoon. I need air.

 I step outside and check my phone. The time is exactly 1:27 pm and a blue Subaru drives down my road with a big old husky hanging out the window living his best life. I start down the road towards the forest.

#chapter 1 #The Best Day Forever #fiction #science fiction #writing #My writing #short story #storytelling #beginner #writeblr #wip #work in progress #work #books

[a-gay-bloodmage]

11, 12 & 20 ;)

Wow, okay! I ended up going on and on (and on and on and on…) for these, so I’ve posted ‘em under the cut!

Thank you for the ask!

((From this post!))

11. Top 5 favourite female companions?

5. Velanna: It’s rare that we get to see angry elves. Elves who are sick and tired of humans burning them out of their homes, sick of racism and human policies, and just sick of everything the world’s thrown at their people. Velanna, despite her “abrasive” (or worse, “bitchy”) personality, is, at her core, a wonderful person. Sure, pride was a part of the reason she stood against the humans trying to burn her clan out, but, if anything, it was her overwhelming resilience and defiance that made her take a stand, even if it was against what many considered better judgement. I love angry elves, especially Dalish ones. I think that the Dragon Age series needs more elves that won’t just play to the narrative of “elves were weak and violent against The Righteous Humans so they deserved what happened to them” because they didn’t deserve any of that. Nobody oppressed deserves to be oppressed. Velanna knows that. She’s incredibly talented and strong-willed and it’s wonderful to see. But, almost above that, is the fact that she’s still a young woman, naive to the world outside her clan. And, honestly, I find that adorable. She believes Oghren’s obviously false stories about dwarvern babies, and can’t handle being flirted with. And her ears are adorable. The bigger the ears the better.

4. Sera: Okay, my love for Sera’s a little tougher to describe than Velanna. On one hand, I adore her character. I absolutely love her design, her openness of and love for sexuality, and her chaotic-neutral-with-a-guarded-heart-of-gold personality. I just… hate how she was handled. So, therefore, I have taken Sera as my own. I love her obvious neurodivergence, and how it’s the opposite of all the more widely-loved neurodivergent characters we usually get. She’s loud and unfiltered, she’s impulsive and often reckless, and she gets angry when she’s sad or angry or confused. I think, personally, that her character is a type we should see more, and that, more importantly, we should sympathize with more. Sera, at her core, just wants to help the people that have been spat on by society, the “little guy” at the bottom of the social ladder. She’s fueled by a love of adventure and want to do the good thing. And I really do admire that. I love characters who aren’t afraid to get in trouble for doing what they believe to be right. And her romance is so cute, she’s so obviously smitten by her Tadwinks and it’s downright adorable. And her friendship with a male PC can be just as cute, really. It’s all the fun of the romance without the sexy-bits. And I love how close you can become with her, living life after the Inquisition with someone who likes you for you, not because you’re the supposed prophet of someone. I think that Sera is one of the few characters that genuinely couldn’t care less about where you’re from or what you do, so long as you make an effort to understand her and her feelings, and don’t work against what she works for. Not to mention, she’s got a stupid sense of humor that I just love. Her banter always makes me laugh and I so appreciate everything about it.

3. Merrill: I’ll start this out by saying, unapologetically, that I am completely in favor of blood magic. I love blood magic. I think it’s an unharnessed force of magic that could be used in so many unexplored aspects of magical fields, and that it’s use in healing could revolutionize the art if only people would get over it’s taboo. That being said, I adore Merrill. Not only is she connected to the Dalish Warden, but her connection to them ends up leading her to becoming one of the most intelligent characters in the series. Not only is she a Dalish mage somehow surviving in human civilization (even if she does get lost sometimes…), but she’s working to undo Darkspawn corruption of an ancient elven artifact. That takes not only immense skill, but the upmost patience and dedication to discovering knowledge lost for Creators-know-how-long. And, being completely honest here, Merrill is one of the cutest characters in the series. Her absolute adorable-ness is one of the most prominent in the series. You can’t argue me on this. I’m right. I adore her voice actress, and could listen to her banter for hours upon hours. And her face is just… pure adorable. Those big green eyes just make my heart melt, honestly. Anyway, like with Velanna, I really appreciate having elves that take immense pride in their cultures, and do whatever they can to protect their people. With Velanna, it was standing alone against humans trying to attack her clan. With Merrill, it’s calling upon “forbidden” magic to restore not only parts of her people’s past, but (even if this part was… in vain) to cure the people she loved, Mahariel and Tamlen. There’s so much goodness trapped inside this tiny elf, it’s a miracle she doesn’t burst at the seams.

2. Leliana: Okay, I know I go on and on here at a-gay-bloodmage about how much I hate the Chantry and every single thing that comes out of it, but Leliana is an exception. As much as people like to claim that she’s annoying, that she’s too forward, that she falls in love with the Warden no matter what they do, I can’t help but believe that this is not only wildly exaggerated, but part of why she’s such a good character. First off, the claim that she’s annoying. If anything, her enthusiasm toward saving the world only makes me love her even more. Also, she never forces her beliefs on anyone who tells her they don’t believe in her god. She had a vision, she believes in it, and she wants to help. Whether or not you believe her is up to the player. Her forwardness is just another part of her charm to me, as well. I think that there’s something so wonderful about a woman who is just so in love with all the good things in the world that she can set aside the bad in their favor, that she can look to where people see an absentee god and see a loving, embracing figure. That warmth is so beautiful to me, and I love to shape my thinking after hers, preferring to believe in a good force in the universe instead of fire and brimstone and all the nonsense. And when people complain that she keeps ninja-mancing the Warden? So what? Again, I love that. Sure, it can mess with some relationships in-game, but she accepts a no if you give it to her. I think her love toward the Warden is so sweet and pure, to be honest. She loves the person she’s following out of actual admiration for once, and not out of manipulation, like how she was with Marjolaine. I’m an absolute sucker for characters with love too big for their heart, and Leliana fits the description quite perfectly.

1. Morrigan: Fuck you. I love Morrigan. Okay, that started off a little strong. I just really love her. I not only think she’s breath-takingly gorgeous, but her personality just draws me to her. Of course, if she were an actual person I had to interact with on a daily basis, well, maybe I’d have a different opinion, but we’re talking about video game ladies here, fellas. They can be abrasive and petty and prideful, but eventually, we get to see behind the proverbial curtain. And… God, I can relate to the serious case of mommy issues in this one. I do think that if I weren’t such a passive person, I’d be quite like Morrigan. Pushing people away before they can get too close to see why you’re hurting inside. I find it easier to deflect while she prefers to simply shove and jab and bite until you give up trying. I empathize with her, and I only wish I could’ve done more to convince her that staying with the Warden, romance or not, would’ve been welcome. That she didn’t have to run away, to take on the burden of an (at the moment) unwanted child alone. She’s secretly so caring and kind, but she just doesn’t understand that people can be loving due to the abuse Flemeth put her through. I know she wouldn’t appreciate the physical contact, but I just want her to lie her head in my lap and talk about her feelings. Poor little witch never learned how to express herself in a positive manner… And yet I love her regardless. And when it comes to her role in Inquisition, I hate a bit of a love-hate relationship with it. On one hand, she showed just how much she’s grown to care for Kieran, and it makes my annoyingly-baby-loving-heart just melt into a gushy pile of love. The fact that she refuses to be the mother Flemeth was to her? I cried. (“I am many things, but I will not be the mother you were to me.”). On the other hand, I wish she wasn’t the “expert” on elven lore. I blame bad writing. But one thing Inquisition really got right? Yeah, I’m back on the Kieran relationship again. I just love it so much… Her desire to be a better mother than her mother was to her is one I hold dear as well, and the reason why she’s my favorite female companion in the entire Dragon Age series.

12. Top 5 favourite male companions?

5. Alistair Theirin: First of all, I unashamedly love Fiona and Maric. Just going to put that out there. I love and actually admire Alistair for a lot of his qualities. As someone who went through years upon years of horrible abuse from the people who were supposed to be taking care of him (Fuck you Eamon and double fuck you, Isolde), was sent to a Chantry against his will and forced to become a Templar, and someone who promptly quit the order after seeing what it did to mages, Alistair’s proven himself time and time again to be a resilient and compassionate person. I think that most of my love for him comes from the fact that despite seeing how much bad was in the world, Alistair still worked to be a good person and to create something positive in the world. I personally make him King in most of my worldstates, not because I think it’s where he “belongs” or anything, or because I somehow am delusional enough to think Anora would be a bad ruler, but because he’s shown to have a lot more compassion than any other ruler. He’s sympathetic to the plights of the mages and the elves, despite not (knowingly) having any connection to them. He’s a solid, overall good boy who covers up emotional pain with humor, and I love him one hundred percent.

4. Dorian Pavus: Dorian is one of the characters that I think gets a lot of fandom love for reasons other than my own. He’s beautiful, and charming, and unique, and a wonderful gay man in a video game (an unfortunately rare thing), but I love him because I can relate to him on a deep level. That fear of disappointing those you love because you’re not what they think you could be, that hiding away your issues behind a veneer of “it’s alright” is best because then you’re not a burden and people don’t see how damaged you are. It’s hard for me to open up to people, and Dorian really is just one of those characters I can’t help but love, despite the fact that he reminds me so much of myself. And, another thing I love about him is that he’s not pale. I know that can be seen as a stupid thing to love someone over, but coming from an Italian family, seeing a character from a place modeled after Rome not being pale makes me so happy. I, myself, am pale as hell, but knowing that finally, finally, we’ve got someone from a Southern-European modeled country that doesn’t look Scandinavian makes me so incredibly happy.

3. Thom Rainier: I think that this is going to be a common theme in my explanations, but I love Thom because he’s not perfect. As like with Dorian, Thom hides behind a facade that makes him feel like he’s something better than he believes himself to be. And he’s a character that fucked up in the past, and fucked up badly, and he bleeds for redemption. He suffers and works and suffers even more in order to prove himself to really be the man he’s become. Very rarely do we get treated to a redemption arc that makes characters actively work for their redemption, face the consequences of their actions, and stick to the principles they claimed they’d stick to. He’s self-deprecating, believing himself to be damn near worthless, his only reason for existing being to help others and work to repent for what he did in the past. Believing you’re undeserving of love is a thing I know a little to well, and having a character genuinely believe themselves to be so without being seen as attention-seeking was great, if not a call-out for my self-loathing ass. Thom is a severely underappreciated character in this fandom, and I really wish that wasn’t the case. He’s an older character, but honestly, he’s about the same age as other characters like Cassandra or Varric. Just because he isn’t conventionally attractive doesn’t mean he should be pushed aside for other characters. I love my big bear husband so much.

2. Anders: Oh, Anders. My lovely, beautiful Anders. My bisexual, mentally ill, selfless, revolutionary, darling Anders. I can’t help but love him. Of course, I love him both before and after Justice, but for differing reasons. In Awakening, Anders was simply someone who just wanted to escape, to be free for once in his life, and to enjoy what the world had robbed him of. There’s something heart-wrenching about seeing a character so obviously hurt being cheerful like he was in Awakening, especially when you see more into his backstory in Dragon Age: II. He, much like Alistair, used humor to distract people from his true feelings. He was a hopeful spot amongst some other companions who wore their pain on their sleeves. In Dragon Age: II, Anders became even more of a favorite for me, simply because I could understand a lot of his pain. I, too, am someone who exhausts myself caring for others, putting the needs of others far above myself. Of course, I know I could never even hope to have mental fortitude like him, but seeing someone so intent on tearing down institutions that have ruined so many lives helps me work to do so myself. Besides, I’m an extremely anti-institutionalized religion person despite being decently religious. Seeing someone who believes in the Maker but not the Chantry was refreshing. It was welcome and wonderful. And, as someone who struggles with mental illness (in my case, things along the lines of ADD, chronic stress, anxiety, dysmorphia, etc.) seeing someone who struggles from mental illness (”possession” that covers a whole lot of shit I’m not really one to put labels to) not overcome but co-exist with his mental illness and find love and purpose was really good for me. I don’t believe for a second that Anders was overly controlled by Justice, only pushed to do things he was to scared to do before Justice came along. In every worldstate of mine, Anders is spared and stood behind. His actions are justified and supported. Fuck the Chantry and Fuck Me Anders. (Sorry, I had to)

1. Zevran Arainai: Zevran was the first character in the Dragon Age series I fell in love with, so of course he’s at the top of this list. And my love for him isn’t just because he’s handsome (even if that is quite an attractive reason), but because he’s a good person who both tries to hide/downplay his goodness and does all he can to do what he knows is right. First of all, once again, like with Dorian, I love seeing Mediterranean-coded characters as non-white. Seeing someone come from a Spanish/Italian-coded country not look British is so beautiful. Of course, I would never say someone claiming that he’s Latino is invalid. There’s one hundred percent reason to believe that, and I support their headcanons. But to me, I relish in the fact that someone from a darker-skinned area of Europe is seen as a beautiful character. He was one of the first darker-skinned European characters I’d ever seen, and that certainly guarantees him a place in my heart. Moving on, I also see a lot of myself in him, though that isn’t exactly a good thing for him. Of course, bisexuality is a huge part of both our existences, and words can’t really express how much I love a canonically bisexual man. I couldn’t believe it when I saw it, in all honesty. I thought it was a headcanon until I read that you could romance him as a male PC. So, of course I made my first character and romanced the hell out of him. Though, on a bit of a darker note, I could really sympathize with his reasoning for leaving Antiva. As someone who’s struggled with suicidal thoughts and certainly suicidal idealization (that whole “I wish I could just stop existing” bullshit), having someone not only deal with the problem of depression but actually get better was incredible. The idea that with enough love and compassion and understanding the pain would ease was a wonderful message I really took to heart. In addition to all of this, which is already a whole lot but I just can’t stop talking about him, Zevran is empathetic. He’s compassionate and understanding. He advocates where other companions stay silent. He’s got one of the most in-depth arguments against allying with the Templars, and his anger towards the Warden, while thinly masked as calm, when the mages are slaughtered in compelling and just compassionate. Not many “ordinary” people are willing to fight for those they don’t know or understand. But Zevran does. And when slavers attempt to sell people in the Alienage into slavery, Zevran does his best to convince the Warden to do the right thing, despite owing them a blood debt. He could be putting his life on the line once more if they don’t agree with him, but he does it anyway. And, you know what? Fuck it, he’s beautiful. He’s goddamn gorgeous and I want all 5′2″ of him.

20. Favorite fantheory?

Andraste was a mage. I absolutely adore this theory and I can’t help but throw my entire support behind it. I find no reason else why a somehow ordinary woman would be chosen by the Maker in the Fade (“World fell away then, misty in mem'ry, / ‘Cross Veil and into the valley of dreams / A vision of all worlds, waking and slumb'ring, / Spirit and mortal to me appeared.” -Andraste 1:10, “Long was his silence, ‘fore it was broken. / For you, song-weaver, once more I will try. / To My children venture, carrying wisdom, / If they but listen, I shall return.“ - Andraste 1:14) because she had a wonderful singing voice (magic is often referred to as a song, and this page on the wiki is quite informative) and could somehow make natural disasters occur in her favor to drive out Tevinter (“The air itself rent asunder, / Spilling light unearthly from the / Waters of the Fade, / Opening as an eye to look / Upon the Realm of Opposition / In dire judgment.” -Exaltations 1:2). Magic, in itself, is never said to be evil in the Chant, only that those who takes the Maker’s gift of magic and turn it against one another are evil (“Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him. / Foul and corrupt are they / Who have taken His gift / And turned it against His children.” -Transfigurations 1:2) Personally, canon aside, I believe that if Andraste could see the current state of the Chantry, she would be appalled. Especially the Chantry in Tevinter, seeing as it endorses slavery (“At Shartan’s word, the sky / Grew black with arrows. / At Our Lady’s, ten thousand swords / Rang from their sheaths. / A great hymn rose over Valarian Fields gladly, proclaiming: / Those who had been slaves were now free.” -Shartan 10:1) and prohibits the mages from using their magic to their full potential (Once again, magic exists to serve, not to be enslaved). Sorry if this is a little messy, but Lord Do I Have Opinions.

#holy shit i went on for a WHILE THERE #asks #dragon age #dragon age origins #dragon age ii #dragon age inquisition #da velanna #da sera #da morrigan #da merrill #alistair theirin #dorian pavus #da blackwall #da anders #zevran arainai #original content #headcanons #andraste #THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU I LOVE RANTING

[takerfoxx]

RD Walpurgis Nights 7: Part 3

“I just couldn’t understand it,” Homulilly said. “I mean, how could something like that exist? How could anyone protect it? It didn’t make any sense!”

“I hear you,” Ophelia said. “I thought pretty much the same thing after it was our turn. I’ve even talked to other former Void Walkers to have them explain it to me, and I still don’t really get it.” She tilted her head to one side. “So…was that what caused you to freak out?”

“What? Oh, no. That was just the start.” Homulilly let out a small, bitter chuckle. “I, uh, I kinda had it all explained to me too, right after.”

“Who? By Astrid?”

“Er, no. S-See, I ran into someone who…Um, you know how you sometimes get annoyed at Charlotte when she gets super blunt and says something kind of mean?”

Ophelia frowned. “Er, yeah…?”

“Well, I ran into someone like that. Super blunt, I mean. And she wasn’t at all nice like Charlotte is.” Homulilly sighed. “Actually, she was kind of a jerk.”

…

Then…

In sharp contrast to the high spirits and happy chatter from earlier that morning, the feeling that hung over the group as they exited the museum was quiet and melancholy. What conversations that were to be had were done in low, somber tones, and most everyone seemed to be lost in thought.

Homulilly was no exception. If her grip on Gretchen’s hand had been strong going in, now their fingers gripped each other so tightly as if a moment of separation would take the other away forever.

“Well, damn,” Mitty said suddenly. “Gotta say, I knew they were gonna drop a bombshell on us, but I didn’t think it was gonna be that dramatic.”

Homulilly shot her a poisonous glare out of the corner of her eye. Did that girl ever stop talking?

“Did you already know about that?” Gretchen asked.

Mitty shrugged. “Pretty much. I mean, there’s a hell of a lot of difference between knowing about it and seeing it, but yeah. Alyssa already told me most of it.”

That new name got Homulilly’s attention. “Alyssa?” she said.

“Yeah. My girlfriend.”

Suddenly Mitty had Homulilly’s full attention. “You have a girlfriend?”

“Hey, don’t sound so surprised, you’re gonna hurt my feelings! Of course I have a girlfriend.”

Homulilly wracked her memory for anyone by the name of Alyssa. She didn’t really spend much time with the rest of the class, but nothing about that name rang any bells.

“She’s already graduated,” Mitty added. “So you probably don’t know her.”

Oh. Right. Of course she was. “You’re dating someone who’s already graduated?” That was odd. Usually those still going through the orientation program didn’t fraternize much with those already fully integrated into Freehaven’s society, her and Gretchen’s friendship with a certain lively Walpurgisnacht quartet notwithstanding.

“Yup! Funny story about that, actually. You know how I said that someone I knew turned into a witch, and I took the contract to, uh, save her?”

The brief hesitation at the word “save” was very short, but Homulilly noticed it. She probably had been about to say “kill,” but remembered who she was talking to and swapped words at the last second. “Yeah…?”

“Well, that’s her.” Mitty grinned, flashing those perfect teeth of hers. “Nearly scared me right out of my skin, running into her. You know, it was sort of the first time I felt that everything was gonna be okay.” Then a brief look of pain flashed through her eyes. “I mean, it sort of hurt that she didn’t really know who I was. That sucked. But hey, that just meant that we could start over. You know, build from the ground up.” The grin returned. “And did we!”

Gretchen perked up. “Okay, but you’re the one that…” Then her tongue seemed to tie itself up in her mouth. “Er…that…”

“Killed her?” Mitty finished for her.

Gretchen winced, but then nodded.

“Hey, don’t be so nervous. I mean, you guys are witches, you’re the ones that oughta be taking that personally! But yeah. Yeah, that was me.”

“Okay, but when you met her again, did she…feel like she knew you from somewhere?”

Mitty’s eyebrows knitted together in puzzlement. “Uh, no? I just told you that she didn’t recognize me. Since, you know, her memories were all gone.”

“I know, but what I mean is, did she find you familiar? Like, did she feel like you two had already met, even if she didn’t know where?”

“Oh! So you mean soul resonance?”

Gretchen nodded. “See, there’s this other group of witches, another Walpurgisnacht, that we’re friends with. They’ve already graduated too, but when we met them, there was like this…” Her face scrunched up. “Like this…”

“A pull,” Homulilly said. “A feeling of connection, like we had always known each other in our hearts, even if our heads didn’t know why.”

“Huh,” Mitty said. “Well, that’s just damn poetic. You’ve got a gift for words, Homulilly. You ever think of joining the Poetry Club?  We do slams every Thursday night.” Then, before Homulilly could ask what a “slam” was, Mitty said, “But yeah, I know what you’re talking about. Some kinda weird connection between magical girls and witches that kill each other? Or witches that join together, or people that used to know each other, or, uh, etc. etc. etc.”

“Pretty much,” Gretchen said. “When Lilly-chan and me met, we didn’t even know each other’s names, but there was this feeling that we had always known each other.” Her fingers tightened around Homulilly’s, and she tilted her head to flash a loving smile. “And no matter what happened next, we were going to face it side-by-side.”

Any linger doubt about Gretchen’s feelings for her melted in Homulilly’s heart, to be replaced with warm relief and adoration, with just a little bit of guilt for having doubted her in the first place.

“Wow,” Mitty said as she stared. “The notes you guys pass in class must be wild.”

“Well…”

“Hey, that’s a good thing.” Mitty entwined her fingers together and stuck them behind her head as she looked out over Freehaven. “I mean…you’re gonna need it, right? With what they just told us, right?”

A sour feeling twisted in Homulilly’s gut, overwhelming the warmth of Gretchen’s words. She looked over at the other girls in her class, all of whom were gathered in small, whispering groups or standing by themselves, staring out into the distance. Most of them looked worried, some outright scared.

It was then that Homulilly realized just how lucky she was. Like Astrid had told them, facing the bleak inevitability that was eternity would be considerably easier with someone by their side, someone to love and support and be loved and supported in turn. And while there were a handful of other couples among them, pairings like her and Gretchen were still a bit of a minority.

To be honest, Homulilly still didn’t really understand why. As far as she knew, most of the other girls were still heterosexual, carried over from their previous lives. But why though? There were no boys around, and girls were so much prettier anyway. Why not accept the way things were?

Then she glanced down at her arms. Well, okay. Maybe she wasn’t the one to throw stones when it came to accepting the reality of things. Still, she did consider herself pretty fortunate. She and Gretchen had been together since day one, and them falling in love had been nothing short of an inevitability. That at least gave them a leg up on the situation.

“Though if you ask me, their timing kinda sucks,” Mitty said. “I mean, couldn’t they have waited until after the festival to drop that on us?”

“Maybe that’s why,” Gretchen said in a small voice. “Maybe they hoped that it would, I don’t know, cheer us up?”

Mitty thought for a moment. Then she shook her head. “Nah. If you ask me, it’s just bad planning.”

Homulilly wasn’t paying much attention to their conversation. It was hard to listen to others when you felt as sick as she did.

“I’ll…be right back,” she said to Gretchen.

Her girlfriend already looked troubled, but now she looked concerned on top of it. “Are you okay?”

“Yes. I just…I just need to use the bathroom, so…”

With that, she quickly scampered off.

Homulilly made a beeline for the bathroom, starting off slow so as not to give away the panic attack she felt forming but giving up on that about halfway there, ending things in a rush. She darted inside, shoved the door shut, and practically collapsed against it.

Her breath was coming in quick, frenzied pants. Her hands were shaking, and she felt cold and clammy.

This was it. She had always felt that something was off, that her new life was just a little too perfect. And here it was. It was a trap after all. Just like the wishes were a trap. Just like everything about the Incubators were a trap, all designed to squeeze every drop of juice out of their souls. Out of children’s souls. One day, one small, naïve girl is tempted to make a poor decision, and she is henceforth damned for all eternity, and there was nothing anyone could do about it! Trapped. They had been trapped. That’s all the afterlife was, just another trap for them to be exploited in death the same way they had been in life.

She thought about the sort of day it was outside. Per usual, the weather had been perfect: the sky a beautiful shade of blue, the air pleasantly warm, and a gentle breeze was blowing in from the sea, bringing with it the smell of salt. Freehaven itself was just as lovely as ever, a tranquil city full of happy people.

Ever since day one, it had been drilled into her head just how much of a paradise their new home was, and how fortunate they were to have it to spend the rest of eternity in. And honestly, Homulilly had never had reason to believe otherwise. Sure, she had a basketful of personal problems and anxieties to work through, but that was fine. She had plenty of help at hand to that, and all the time in the world to adjust, and when she did, she and Gretchen would be together forever, enjoying their eternal second life in a state of bliss.

But now the other side of the coin had been revealed, and everything made so much more sense. Freehaven was the way that it was because it had to be: to keep those trapped in the maze from seeking out the bait.

For one reason or another, Homulilly’s past self had made such a choice, and she was damned. Gretchen was damned. Their friends were damned. Everyone was damned! Millions, perhaps even billions of little girls, all tricked into standing in line at the slaughterhouse. Some got there faster than others, some had a more pleasant time of it perhaps, but in the end it didn’t matter.

All roads lead to Oblivion.

It wasn’t fair!

Homulilly was in such a state that she barely noticed the sound of a toilet flushing behind her, followed by the stall door opening. One of the other sinks ran water for a bit, and then a wry voice with a slight British accent said in a wry tone, “Let me guess: you’re one of those new girls that though you was going on a nice field trip, only to get a truth bomb dropped on your sweet, ignorant head. Am I right?”

Homulilly stiffened in place. Then she slowly turned to look at the other person in the bathroom with her. The other girl was tallish and very thin, with tight skin that clung tightly to the shape of where her skull used to be and a long, angular face. Her shoulder-length hair was bright violet, as was her weary eyes. She wore a brown flight jacket over grey turtleneck sweater and a long black skirt. She was drying her hands with a pair of paper towels as she dispassionately watched Homulilly, waiting for her to respond.

“Um…” Homulilly said as she tried to come up with something to say. Unfortunately, her tongue had completely tied itself into knots. “Er…”

The girl snorted. “Though so.” She tossed the paper towels, straightened out her hair, and sighed. “So, you finally got your peek behind the curtain, saw the dark side of paradise, learned what it its that fuels Omelas. Sucks, doesn’t it?”

There was something so familiar about the girl, but Homulilly just couldn’t put her finger on it. It wasn’t the feeling of déjà vu she had gotten with Gretchen or any of the Ladoga girls; this wasn’t a sense of innate connection of the soul, but more of that this was something she had met once before, just long enough to make an impression but not long enough to become familiar.

“It’s okay, you don’t need to say anything. I’ve seen that look often enough. You kids come here all scared and confused, don’t know where you are or why you’re here, have to get used to the whole ‘being dead’ thing. Then, just when you think you’re getting the hang of things, they go drop that bit of information on you. ‘Oh yeah, there is a way to die for real and just get it over with, but you gotta go join a psycho death cult for like a couple hundred years, and it’s run by a genuine, bonafide Incubator. This is what their deathday party looks like. Have fun with that information!’”

Homulilly struggled with her own tongue to come up with some sort of response, but in the end all she was able to stammer out was, “Why?”

“Eh?”

Now that her tongue was loosened, the words came out more easily. “Why’d they wait? Why’d they hide it from us? We should’ve known about that!”

The sour girl sighed. “Aw, shit. Good fuckin’ job, Annabelle Lee. You make one smartass comment, and suddenly you gotta play therapist.” Then she shrugged and said, “Kid, lemme tell you something: they used to do exactly that. The Void Walkers used to be part of the fookin’ orientation. You learned about that when you came in. Except…turns out that dropping all that on a bunch of scared little girls still freaking out all that other shit kinda makes them freak out more. They had breakdowns, meltdowns, and more than one going full witch. So hey, they figured, ‘Give the kids a couple years to get used to things. Let them get at least sort of stable, and then we’ll let them in on the know.’”

Homulilly’s jaw dropped. “How long have they known?”

“Who?”

“Everyone!” Homulilly’s arms flailed in the air, trying to indicate the whole of their surroundings. “Everyone in the afterlife! How long have they known what was going on over there?”

“Oh, that’s what you mean. And they figured that out a long time ago. I mean, you just learned about the war, didn’t you? I thought that covered everything.”

That was true enough, but it hadn’t covered everything. “What’s wrong with them?” was Homulilly’s next question.

“Them?”

“Them!” More arm flailing followed. “Those Void Walkers! They looked like they were…I don’t know, possessed! How could they just give themselves up like that, knowing what we know? I thought everyone here hated the Incubators!”

Annabelle Lee’s thin lips twisted into a humorless smirk. “You haven’t been here long, have you? Like, a couple years, right?”

Homulilly nodded.

“Then shut up.”

Homulilly jerked back like she had been slapped. “Huh?”

“You like it here, don’t you? Here in lovely Freehaven, the city by the sea. Beautiful, happy town full of beautiful, happy people, enjoying their little slice of Heaven.” Annabelle Lee leaned over to poke a finger into Homulilly’s sternum. “Well, while you’re still coming to terms with your last truth bomb, let me drop another: most of the afterlife ain’t nearly as nice as this. Most girls don’t wake up to find a whole organization of nice, helpful people just waiting to do everything they can to make things easier. Some wake up in darker places. Some have to figure it out as they go along. And many can’t.”

“I-”

“And even the ones that do…hell, even the ones lucky like you, who wound up here or in one of the other nice places, you think you’re immune? Hey, do me a favor: when you leave here today, take the time to look out over the city. Take in the sights, feel the warmth, breathe in that clean air. It’s all very lovely, and you get to stay here forever. But here’s the problem that nobody knows how to solve: forever lasts an awful long time. It just keeps going and going and going, and everything stays the same. The afterlife, the city, you. And there’s gonna be the day…not today, not tomorrow, maybe not even until a hundred years from now, but mark my words it will come, the day when you looked out the window over your little slice of Heaven, and you will hate the sight of it.”

“But-”

“So you decide to move! It’s a big afterlife, there has to be something out there to shake eternity up! You head off to one of the other nicer places! Cloudbreak, Steel City, whatever. It doesn’t matter, all you need is a little variety, someplace new to start over. And hey, it works. You’re breathing fresh air, and enjoying the new pace! You’ve been revitalized, ready to face the rest of eternity. Guess what happens after that?”

“It…it gets old?” Homulilly guessed.

Annabelle Lee nodded. “Yeah. It gets old. All over again. So you move again and start over. Again. Then you do it again. And again. You run out of nice places to go, so you start going to the not-so-nice places.” Annabelle Lee’s violet eyes were already on the sour side of cynical, but now they darkened even further. “Then you start ending up in the bad places, where those unlucky in death ended up. You see what’s been done to them and where they have to spend eternity. You start meeting others like you, those who’ve been around way too long and have seen too much. You realize that you’ve run out of places to go, and the very thought of returning to somewhere just sticks in your craw. You feel trapped, a rat in a very, very large maze. And it don’t matter that it’s being run by an Incubator, it don’t matter that you’ve seen what getting released looks like, you start realizing that it’s the only way out, the only way to make everything stop. And you start wondering how you look in black.” She looked away from Homulilly to her own reflection in the bathroom mirror, and when she spoke next it seemed to be just as much at herself as it was at Homulilly. “All roads lead to Oblivion.”

This wasn’t how the day was supposed to be going. Homulilly was supposed to have a nice field trip to the museum with Gretchen, wander the exhibits together, enjoy the sights and learn something about history. She was not supposed to be having her entire world torn asunder and end up having the harsh realities explained to her by a grumpy stranger in a bathroom. Her sight was starting to blur as tears welled up, and her throat was constricting, making the next words hard to push out. “But…that’s not fair!”

“What ain’t?”

“It’s not fair!” Homulilly repeated. “We’re dead! It should be over! They got what they wanted from us! Why can’t they leave us alone?”

“Oh, the Incubators?” Annabelle Lee shook her head and rolled her eyes with a sigh. “Well…duh? You really think they care about what’s fair? They’re already in the business of screwing over little girls. Of course they’d keep it going after we’re dead.”

Homulilly took a deep breath to compose herself. She raised her arms and let them drop back down. “So…that’s it? I’m trapped, and there’s nothing I can do about it?”

Then Annabelle Lee did something sort of odd. She tilted her head and her eyes narrowed. She seemed to studying Homulilly’s face, almost like she was searching for something. “Tell me something, kid. You got someone special in your life?”

Again Homulilly was taken back. “What?”

“You heard me. You got someone special to you, someone you care about more than anything?”

Homulilly stared at her. Why would she want to know that? “Yes,” she said after a long moment.

“Someone you arrived with?”

“Yes,” Homulilly said again, quicker this time. “We’re a Walpurgisnacht, her and I.”

“I see.” Annabelle Lee sighed. “Well, then you’re luckier than most. You want some advice?”

“Sure.”

“This special person of yours, do everything you can to keep her close. Because as much as you might think you need her, you actually need her far, far more than that. There will come a day where she’s the only thing worth getting up for, and her smile will be the only thing that hasn’t gotten old.”

There was so much weariness in Annabelle Lee’s voice, so much pain and sorrow. Though she didn’t look a day over sixteen, Homulilly realized that she was looking at someone very, very old, and not just by a numerical count of years. This was someone who had endured uncountable hardships, hardships that burdened her still.

Homulilly wanted to ask her exactly what she had gone through to make her the way she was, but before she could loosen her tongue the bathroom suddenly burst open and two newcomers entered.

The first was a small child, a girl that looked to still be of grade-school age, though all things considered that didn’t mean much. She was Caucasian, with curly blonde hair and golden eyes,  and was dressed in a pink shirt and a pair of overall shorts. The other was a tall, willowy girl who looked to be in her late teens. Like Homulilly, she had Asian features, with pale skin and a long, glossy black hair that had an odd leaflike growths protruding from the strands. She was dressed in tight black pants, a black blouse, and a white jacket. A silver cross hung from a slender chain around her neck.

The small blonde ignored Homulilly and marched right up to Annabelle Lee to scowl up at her. “There you are! What’s taking you so long?”

Homulilly was a little startled by the sudden intrusion, but what happened next was even odder. As soon as the pair had entered the room, Annabelle Lee’s face seemed to soften. The hard edge melted away, her eyes brightened a bit, and she even smiled a little.

“Sorry about that, squirt,” she said. “Got caught up with something.”

“Goodness gracious,” said the other girl as she shook her head. “I was starting to think you were trying to drop a-” Then she caught sight of Homulilly, and her eye widened in alarm. “Oh.” A pause, and then. “Uh-oh.” She then turned back to Annabelle Lee, now openly glaring. “What did you do?”

“Why Elsa Maria, whatever are you talking about?” Annabelle Lee said innocently.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Elsa Maria growled. “What did you do to her?”

“Nothing! She was already like that.”

Elsa Maria folded her arms over her chest. “Why do I find that so hard to believe?”

“You tell me! She just went on that freaky truth bomb tour that they show newbies. And I…” Annabelle Lee shrugged, “filled in the gaps, that’s all.

Sighing, Elsa Maria buried her face in her hands. “Oh, good Lord! See, this is why I can’t take you to church anymore!”

“Not seeing how that’s a bad thing.”

“Shut up.” Then Elsa Maria turned to Homulilly. Bending over a bit so that they were eye-to-eye, she laid a hand on the younger girl’s shoulder. “Hey sweetie, I’m so sorry. Please don’t listen to her. She’s just a sourpuss that loves to ruin everything.”

Homulilly had to admit that as strange as the last few minutes were, having her skeletal shoulders touched without revulsion by someone who wasn’t Gretchen, Ophelia, Charlotte, Oktavia, Candeloro, or Cheese was an even stranger experience. Granted, she was wearing a thick jacket, but something about Elsa Maria’s body language told her that she wouldn’t have hesitated even if her bones had been exposed. That was…unexpected, and not entirely unpleasant.

Finally she managed to unwind her tongue and say, “No. No, it’s okay. I had questions, and she was just being honest.”

Elsa Maria shot a glare over to Annabelle Lee. “Yeah, but still…”

“It’s fine,” Homulilly reassured her. “Really.” Then she turned to the violet-haired girl in question. “Thank you. For telling me.”

“Sure thing, newbie.”

Elsa Maria frowned. She looked into Annabelle Lee’s face in a suspicious manner. “Well, even so, don’t think for a moment that I approve one bit about your brand of ‘truth.’” She grabbed Annabelle Lee by the arm and pretty much hauled her out of the bathroom, the little blonde girl following close behind. “I’ve seen what you think passes for delivery, and it’s no wonder the poor girl is distraught.”

“I told you already, she was already a wreck!” Annabelle Lee complained. “I actually helped her! Stop assuming the worst about-”

The door swung shut, muffling the rest of their conversation.

Homulilly stood in the bathroom, staring at the door. Through it, she could still hear Annabelle Lee arguing with her…friend? Girlfriend? Minder? Whatever Elsa Maria was to her, it was clear that she and the dour Annabelle Lee had been together for a long, long time. And as sharp as her words had been, there did seem to be a comforting familiarity to them, as if their bickering was just a common routine that they enjoyed playing out.

Then Homulilly turned to look at herself in the mirror. She…looked the same as always: same long black hair, same dark violet eyes, same petite figure, same bony hands peeking out of the sleeves of her jacket, same bright crimson spider-lily growing out of the top of her head.

When Homulilly had first arrived in the afterlife, she had been so self-conscious about her appearance. With her arms being what they were, she had been terrified that everyone would be scared of her and think of her as a monster. But though she still didn’t like to have them commented on, the sight of those bare bones no longer bothered her the way they had. In fact, she barely thought about them these days. And ever since she and Gretchen had fallen in love, well, the sight of herself in the mirror made her smile more often than not. Being wanted by someone, especially someone like Gretchen, really did much to improve how she saw herself.

But now, as she stared into her own eyes, she found herself regarding herself in a new light. She thought of that weary, bitter look in Annabelle Lee’s eyes, and picture it in her own. She thought of that sour look on Annabelle Lee’s face, and saw herself walking around with that same expression.

Then she thought of all those Void Walker she had just seen images of, walking around with unnaturally pale skin and all-black outfits. Not a single one had seemed happy, content, or even the slightest bit at peace. They had all been breathing despair, with the only positive trait being the raw determination in their eyes.

Homulilly was already a few shades paler than most, and now, in her mind’s eye, she saw herself fully bleached white. She saw her bright green jacket replaced with someone plain and black. She saw the petals of her flower dyed black. Overall, it made her look like a corpse.

Shivering, Homulilly exited the bathroom. She made her way back to the group, who were still huddled together and looking all sorts of lost and dismayed.

All except for Mitty.

In sharp contrast to the others, Mitty looked much more at ease as she chatted with Gretchen. The two were sitting side-by-side on a bench, with all of Gretchen’s legs gathered up around her as she often did when she was feeling uncomfortable. In contrast, Mitty was lounging in a relaxed state, one leg folded under her with the other swinging back and forth. She was turned toward Gretchen, her left arm draped over the back of the bench.

Though Homulilly couldn’t hear what was being said, she could guess at the subject. Gretchen was feeling a little scared by what she had just been shown, and Mitty was working to put her at ease. Suddenly Homulilly felt a healthy dose of guilt start to squirm in her gut. She ought to have been the one to be there for Gretchen instead of running away. But no, she had to think of only herself instead of sparing a single thought to how Gretchen might be feeling.

Then Mitty laughed and reached over to playfully tousle Gretchen’s hair. The pink-haired witch giggled and blushed.

Suddenly Homulilly’s guilt vanished, to be replaced with white hot anger. Oh no. No way. Mitty did not get to touch her Gretchen like that. That was reserved for Homulilly and Homulilly only.

Homulilly almost marched right up to her to confront her, but another stop made her stop. Sure, Mitty was almost definitely making the moves on her girlfriend, but what was she going to do about it? Mitty was, well, older, prettier, and more confident, pretty much everything Homulilly was not. And getting into a fight in front of Gretchen wouldn’t help anyone.

Homulilly needed advice. She needed to talk to someone who was also older than her and had more life experience. She needed the help of a fighter.

…

Now…

“A fighter?” Ophelia said, puzzled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Homulilly didn’t say anything. She just shot her a sidelong look.

“Wait,” Ophelia after a beat. “You mean me? You wanted me to fight Mitty for you?”

“No! Not actually fight! And not specifically you, just…any one of you guys! I just wanted someone to talk to for, you know, advice.”

“Advice on how to fight Mitty?”

“Not physically.” Homulilly looked down at her bony fingers. “She’d kick my butt. I mean…”

“Fight to keep Gretchen.” Ophelia sighed. “Homulilly. Seriously. Did you really think Gretchen was going to leave you for her?”

“No! Of course not, I just…”

“Did you think she was going to cheat on you or something? I thought you trusted her.”

“I did! I mean, I do, it’s just…uh…”

“You didn’t trust Mitty,” Ophelia guessed.

Homulilly cringed, but she nodded.

“Right,” Ophelia sighed. “Okay, what happened after that.

“Well, there was no more classes after I got back, but Gretchen still had her committee meeting,” Homulilly said. She made a face. “And I didn’t want to be alone for the evening-”

“Then why not go to the damned meeting?” Ophelia said. “You’d be with Gretch and be able to keep an eye on Mitty.”

“I…I don’t know,” Homulilly admitted. “I should’ve, but I wanted to talk to one of you guys first. Except, uh, things got…complicated.”

…

Then…

“Sorry, dear,” said the librarian behind the counter, whose nametag identified her as Mary. “Charlotte’s not in today.”

Homulilly’s face fell, followed soon by her petals. “Oh,” she said. “But I thought she had Sundays and Mondays off.”

“Usually, yes, but she asked for today off. I mean, didn’t you hear? She’s got an interview with Corbit Fausk!”

Oh, right. “That’s today?” Homulilly said.

“It is! Isn’t it exciting?” Mary beamed. “One of our own, being represented by Corbit Fausk! We might have to do an autograph signing here!” She went back to the books she had been sorting. “Anyway, she should be in tomorrow. Shall I pass along a message?”

“No,” Homulilly said. “It’s fine. I can talk to her later.”

With a sigh, she turned and walked away from the front desk toward the exit. Well, that had been a bust. She didn’t often need a sympathetic ear, but today she most certainly, but Gretchen was with the festival planning committee AGAIN, Candeloro had already left for Orya’s Furnace, Ophelia was at work at the power plant, and for once Charlotte was unavailable. Homulilly and Gretchen had popped into the library several times in the past to chat with her, and she had always been happy to see them. But the one time Homulilly really needed her, she was gone. It wasn’t fair.

Homulilly was so occupied with her pouting that she almost didn’t notice the person coming the other way until she had nearly ran her right over, causing her to drop the books she was carrying. “Hey!” the other person snapped. “Watch where you’re going, you weed-headed-”

Homulilly jerked her head up, as shocked by the sudden insult as she was by the collision.

“-oh. Oh! Shit. Homulilly, right? Sorry, I didn’t know it was you.”

It was Mitty.

Because of course it was.

“Um…” was all Homulilly thought to say. “What…what are you doing here?”

Mitty quirked an eyebrow. “Er, why? Am I not allowed to go to the library?”

“I…I thought there was a meeting.”

“Oh. That.” Mitty shrugged and knelt down to pick up her books. “Jada called to say she was going to be late, so I took the extra time to run over and return some books.”

“Oh. Um, sorry for running into you.”

“S’kay. Hey, you know, it’s only a couple days until the festival, so you should come along!”

“Me? Go to…the meeting?”

“Sure! Why not? It’s not like we check ID’s or anything. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Homulilly couldn’t fathom why Mitty would want her around. She was after Gretchen; of that Homulilly was certain. Maybe she wanted Homulilly to be around to watch so she could rub it in?

“I’ll…think about it,” Homulilly said in a neutral tone.

“Cool! Well, see you around.”

Homulilly watched as Mitty made her way into the library.

Then Homulilly abruptly stopped and smacked herself in the forehead. Okay, she was an idiot. There was someone she could talk to, someone who worked nearby, and not for something really busy like a power plant, didn’t have an interview with a super popular agent, and wasn’t out of town for the weekend.

The Magi’s Gifts Emporium was located further down the hill, around where the newly arrived worked to settle in crossed over to the places infested with tourists. It really was a wonderful store, like something out of a fantasy world. Which, as Homulilly reflected as she stepped inside, was kind of exactly what it was.

Unfortunately it was much busier than normal. All the people coming in for the festival filled the place and packed the aisles, browsing the merchandise and clambering over the shelves like monkeys.

Homulilly hesitated at the entrance. She still didn’t much care for crowds, especially ones made up of strangers. Her hand moved over reflexively to grasp Gretchen’s, only to come up empty. She looked down at it in surprise, and then remembered.

Right. That’s why she was here in the first place. She was on her own, and if she didn’t want to end up being on her own for the rest of forever, she needed to pull herself together and not back down. Taking a deep breath, she stepped forward.

It was like stepping out into a gale. Immediately Homulilly was buffeted on all sides by bodies and noise. She felt a flurry of panic start to flare up in her stomach. No, no, no, she couldn’t break down now. She had to hold it together. She had been through crowds before.

But then there was usually someone with her. Several someones in fact, who could form a barrier around her. Now it was just her and all of them.

An Indian girl pressed past her without so much as an excuse me, her eyes looking right past Homulilly. But then they dipped down to focus on Homulilly’s hands, and her brow rose. It was just the briefest of glances, but Homulilly caught it. She hastily folded her hands into her elbows and hastened forward.

Strange faces passed. Music and voices assaulted her ears. Arms and shoulders jostled her. Homulilly kept her face forward and forced her way forward, hoping that she would break through before she lost her mind.

Then, right when she thought that she was going to suffocate, she was out, having made it past the aisles to the more spacy music section. There were still a lot of people around, but they weren’t packed in nearly as densely as before, and Homulilly was able to breathe.

Shaking a little, Homulilly looked around for Oktavia. She was usually teaching her students in the corner, which was roped off for her lessons. However, today it was empty.

Homulilly’s heart fell. No, no, no. Please, don’t let her have gone through all of that for nothing. Please let Oktavia be there, because if she didn’t have someone familiar to talk to soon she was going to start pulling her hair out and her flower up by the roots.

Then, right before Homulilly completely lost it, a door opened in the back of the store and Oktavia came out in her mechanical chair. Accompanying her was a despondent blonde girl with a heavily freckled face with an instrument case in her hand.

Homulilly slowly breathed out. Oh. Okay, Oktavia was there. It was just probably too crowded to conduct her music lessons out in the open, so she was having them in the back room. Thank God.

Still, she didn’t want to intrude and interrupt the talk Oktavia was having with her student, so Homulilly sidled over behind a drum set to wait. Despite the babble around her, she was close enough to hear what was being said.

“I’m never going to get good,” the girl was saying. “I keep trying, but I can’t get the hang of it!”

“Oh, don’t give me that,” Oktavia said patiently. “Everyone sucks when they first start out!”

“Did you?”

“Me? Well, no,” Oktavia admitted. “But that’s because of magic or whatever. But I’ve taught lots of kids, and let me tell you: each and every one of them sucked when they first started out. Now at least seven of them are performing in symphonies, three have their own band, and one just dropped her third solo album.”

“But…they’re probably special. I’m not. I keep trying to find something special at me, but nothing clicks!”

Homulilly sighed. Yeah, she knew how she felt.

“Special? Oh, come on, don’t give me that,” Oktavia said in a stern tone. “Special is just a word people use to justify quitting! Thing is, you can be the most talented person in the whole afterlife and still accomplish nothing. I’ve seen it so many times, girls with so many natural gifts that it’s incredibly unfair, but they think that means that they can just coast by and never work at anything, so they never do and never do anything with those talents! Meanwhile, you get other girls who have to work twice as hard to be half as good as them, but they end up creating masterpieces.”

Homulilly leaned in closer to hear better.

“See, here’s the thing: there’s nothing that’s worth having that isn’t worth fighting for. And sometimes you have to fight harder and longer than most people, but that just makes it better in the end! And when you do finally get there, it’ll mean more because of what you had to go through to get it. So don’t let it get you down. It’s okay to get frustrated, but use that frustration as fuel instead of letting it make you stop, okay?”

Homulilly’s breath caught in her throat.

This special person of yours, do everything you can to keep her close, Annabelle Lee’s words echoed in her head. Because as much as you might think you need her, you actually need her far, far more than that. There will come a day where she’s the only thing worth getting up for, and her smile will be the only thing that hasn’t gotten old.

Homulilly’s bony fingers clenched into fists. Right then. No more standing by passively. Gretchen was hers, and she was going to fight for that right.

A few moments later Oktavia’s student left the store feeling a little better about herself. She wasn’t the only one. Oktavia went about her day without knowing that Homulilly had ever been there, but that didn’t matter. Homulilly had heard what she needed to hear from her anyway.

#Walpurgis Nights

[brokenmusicboxwolfe]

On a photo of a not exactly human face I sculpted....

labratbren said:                                                                                                                            What do you do with them when they are done? Do you ever post pictures of the finished product? 

Ah, well, um....short answer? Nothing.

Here’s the longer answer (VERY long)....

While I was always drawn to sculpting, I really didn’t sculpt growing up. 

I mean, I tried to use clay I dug out of the ground, drying it in the sun, when I was tiny. Naturally it crumbled except for this lump of a head I still have. In Kindergarden the art teacher had his own kiln and let us use the scraps left over from the pots he had us make. I still have a loop armed alien and creature head I made, but he left with his kiln the next year. The dough art they had us make in second grade was gone by the next year, ‘cause this buggy and humid climate doesn’t agree with it. My parents gave me modling clay, but I hated it. I wanted something that would “stay”. 

But everyone acted like sculpting was hard, so maybe I wasn’t missing out. 

Then one day, when I was 19 or so, my hands got bored. Anyone would have laughed if I’d said I was bored right then. I had a book open to one side of me, a magazine on the other, as I went back and forth reading both. I was also  listening to music AND watching the movie The Brothers Karamazov at the same time. I have this problem where I always feel like I should be doing more, and when I am doing something I get itchy to be doing something else. Like my brain isn’t fully occupied even if I’m really enjoying whatever. That day my hands needed something to do, and there was this block of clay left over from a project one of Pop’s projects (a river system display, I think) It was just sittin’ there on the porch so....

And it turned out sculpting was easy! I mean, maybe not art bit doodling around having fun making faces. Do NOT be intimidated by sculpting! It comes so much more easiy than trying to convert our 3D world into some 2D drawing. Seriously, try drawing a nose head on! But toss on any wedge on a sculpted face and you have a nose...

Ok, maybe I just am bad at drawing! But I really do wish more people would try sculpting.

Anyway, the clay was another dead end, but it did inspire me to hunt for something I could “make stay”. And that something was sculpey. 

Whenever I was certain I would have the place completely to myself for a full hour I’d go stand out on the ramp behind the house and sculpt. It wasn’t too often, what with the house also being the office of the family business and my family being the sort of close one that did everything together. I couldn’t sculpt and be watched. All I needed was an our because I sculpted quickly. In an hour I’d have a little bust, rough as heck but with some detail I liked.

But then I ran out of places to put my busts in my already overstuffed bedroom. I solved this by just slicing the faces off and just baking them. I could glue magnets to them and line all the edges of my metal bookcases.

I did dabble in other things. I tried a full figure and made a few little stick figures. I sculpted something from Babylon 5 for my brother, mixed my box painting (I used to paint boxes when I had a table) with sculpting for a Discworld box for Mom, Easter bunnies for my parents, magnets for everyone, Christmas ornaments...

When she saw the Christmas tree ornaments my cousin Katharine, dollhouse collector, roped my into making her a doll. She had specific requirements for a 6″ tall Beast in what I gathered were Regency era clothes from her decription. In my ignorance I assumed the doll would have to have a jointed body, fabric clothes and furry fur, which kinda drove me nuts! But somehow I pulled it off! I sculpted a few more of those little dolls (no sewing on these!) as gifts for my parents and brother, as well as a bit of goofing around for myself (I liked my little  Sleestack a couple decades late for little me). But that was that.

Then the weirdest darn thing happened: I was suddenly stricken with a full imaginative block!

I stopped sculpting. I stopped painting boxes. I stopped writing stories. Worst of all I stopped dreaming! I still remember how upsetting that was, this sense of loss. It was like having a part of me paralyzed.  

It lasted years. Terrible years.

When my father became sick right after my irreparable rift with my brother, as I was facing the most terrible external loss of my life, something woke back up in me. Constant, vivid dreams, elaborate epics spiraling through night after night, images and stories that writing didn’t full  satisfy the need to express. I started painting miniature boxes again. Box after box after box....

But no sculpting.

I dunno why I still didn’t sculpt. I just didn’t.

Then my father died.

Pop’s death was a devistating moment. My father. My best friend. When Pop was sick I told him he couldn’t die because I wouldn’t have anyone to talk to. There is a lot of truth in that.  I love Mom dearly, but our brains work very differently. Pop might have been smarter, and his depth of knowledge was certainly mind blowing, but our mental wiring followed a similar eccentric pattern. That said, somewhere along the line my parents and I had become a sort of unit, functioning as one. Think one of those anime giant robots made of smaller ships, Voltron or something. Then imagine it functioning with the head section missing. Five years later we still feel that void.

So anyway, Pop was dead, the family business gone with him, and I was unemployed with no qualifications in a rural area with few job opportunities anyway. This was, and frankly still is, not a good situation. And my cousin Katharine thought she had a solution.

Katharine sent me a letter suggesting I make dolls. She’d shown the doll I’d made her to a dealer who said I had talent, and she sent me a copy of Art Doll Quarterly to show me that my “weird” stuff might have a market...

Honestly I felt inspired by this. I immediately seriously considered it. I’d work a bit bigger than 6″ scale, sculpt the clothes instead of the stress and tedium of sewing, and figure out a way to do ball joints. Because each thing would be unique (until I could teach myself mold making) and letting go of something I make is soooo hard for me, I decided to use the story of one of my painted boxes as inspiration. I’d make wolf people, which I figured would create enough sameness to help me let go, but enough variety to keep me from being bored. I quickly sketched out a reasonable design and got to work.

Obviously things didn’t turn out to be so simple. Sculpting ball joints by hand is fiddly to manage. It would need a bit of experimenting. I could do a head on day, casually. I could do the upper body, arms and waist joint  with a lot of effort another day. A third day would be waist and legs. Fourth day was the hellish threading. I wasn’t set up for safely storing unbaked work in progress, so I had to do these marathon one sitting sculptings on the bodies. Then I’d rest up a few days and just sculpt a few heads.

The ball jointing drove me nuts. So I gave myself permission to not worry about wolfheads, but just sculpt whatever head happened. From the backlog of heads I’d just pick one to experiment with body making. In just a couple months I was making progress.

The first discouragement came with an art show. The county has a sort of art society and they were having a sculpture show. I was scared silly to show my work to anyone, since at that point it was 2014 and I wasn’t even on Tumblr. No one had seen them. Still, when I went to see about entering the lady there was encouraging. I was soooo nervous and tentatively hopeful when I went to the grand opening with Mom amd my cousin Shirley. I was soon deflated. No one seemed to notice my figures. My work was the odd one out anyway in a sea of found object sculptures, colored paper masks and ceramics abstractly suggesting the figural. Also, everyone there knew each other and so no one was talking to me. At one point I did this really sad thing of hovering near my figures in case anyone came near so I could sorta maybe get them to notice them....

When the show ended a few weeks later the lady very nicely said at least a couple school children had liked weird figures, ‘cause, you know, kids like that fantasy stuff.  I definitely should sculpt a lot bigger and maybe use terra cotta instead....

Yeah. I felt my stuff was crap. I was crap. Why had I ever thought anyone would like my crap? Heck, I’d thought I’d at least find a club I could join, belonging, friends....

But, I kept at the doll making experimenting, crap or not. That winter it was too cold for much sculpting in my unheated house, but I could work on trying to figure out how to paint them....

Then life happened don’t ya know. At first I thought it was a temporary break while I dealt with crisis after another. I kept sculpting heads, strictly sculpting a head a day (still just an hour each)....until the spreading collapsed floor situation forced me to move the box I’d made for storing the bodiless heads out. And that was that for doll making.

Still, I kept sculpting. I went back to just the faces....

And that’s where I am now. I gave up sculpting every day, because I no longer have time. I watch a movie and sculpt. I bake the face and take pics I post on here. I wrap ‘em in tissue and put them in a storage container....

And that’s it.

I don’t do anything with them. I’m not entirely convinced there is any point anymore. My life isn’t going to include free time. Or tables to work on. It has been years after all, and it gets less and less likely I’ll make anything more than a few boxes full of chipped up sculpey faces for the nephews to find when I die. Well, unless they follow my brother’s advice and throw them out unopened! LOL

I sculpt just ‘cause I sculpt. I post pics of them on Tumblr, ‘cause Mom isn’t really all that interested in looking at them. They aren’t ever going to be anything, but I guess if I enjoy making them and someone out there likes looking at them that’s okay. They may be nothing, but that’s something.

#comments #art #sculpting #artists on tumblr

[joshhhhhhhhhhhhhhh]

Gakkougurashi Review!

Hi, I’m Josh, and did you know that I review anime sometimes? You wouldn’t think so because other than weekly coverage of currently airing shit I post reviews like, once a month maybe? Really wanna do something about that. But anyway, I’m wasting time.

So today, or yesterday as of the time of writing this, I watched Gakkougurashi, which has been on my plan to watch for quite a hecking while now, and I quite enjoyed it…?

The first episode was super strong, leading off and baiting us with some still genuinely enjoyable slice of life stuff, but then pulling the rug under us with a well foreshadowed twist. Now I did actually know going into this show that there was a twist – in fact I basically knew the entire nature of the first episode, but that didn’t get in the way of me enjoying it. And then episodes 2 through like, 6 or 7 are a little bit more of that – the School Survival Club being cute funny anime girls with good chemistry and occasionally strong backstories being forced into awkward zombie situations and also having to entertain Yuki’s delusions which is fun.

See, Yuki would be a generic main character in any other cute girl anime. She’s pink, cheerful, absolutely adores her friends and constantly talks about how great they are, sucks at school but loves it and all her teachers, the whole shebang. She’s like, ridiculously generic, but the context in which she exists makes that genericism work wonderfully. She’s generic but she’s got PTSD and has become literally delusional – subconsciously forcing herself to behave the way she does because it’s her only hope. Honestly while Yuki herself isn’t the most interesting character or anything, the way she actually works in the narrative is something to be admired.

Speaking of stuff that needs to be admired the tone of this narrative itself. This show genuinely manages to blend an equal amount of slice and life shit with edgy shit and somehow the tone for both moments is both perfect on its own and doesn’t clash with the other’s – primarily because of Yuki in fact. Honestly I’d go as far as to say that this might be the single best execution I’ve ever seen of two such polar opposite genres and narrative ideas being blended together. The edgy zombie shit compliments the slice of life shit and vice versa.

Except, I think that’s less true in the last few episodes. See, Gakkougurashi is obviously a zombie show still, so to justify the existence of zombies, they manage to find out that the government or whatever is testing bioweapons and their school – which conveniently has about everything a person would need to survive in the long term if society collapsed – was deliberately designed to be some sort of safe space. And then, for no reason other than “why not?”, lots of shit just starts hitting the fan such that one of the main characters – a dog – dies, while another one nearly dies. And by the way I really wanted this other one to die. I loved her, she’s probably best girl, but to see what is still a cute girl slice of life show kill off a main character this late in the game would’ve been cool. But instead all that stuff about the government and bioweapons meant that they could cure her, and then the only actual consequences at the end are that the dog died, but it also had puppies maybe so even that’s not all bad. I realise I’ve gone completely off-topic from what I was opening this paragraph with. Basically I wish this show’s edgy moments were edgier, but rather than fully committing to that in the last few episodes, they just give the illusion of it being edgier by having some not that interesting plot stuff to introduce fake stakes. It’s honestly kind of boring. Not helping is that they sandwich in a filler episode about them chilling at a pool or whatever. I kind of liked how early episodes actually combined edge and slice of life, but at the end that stuff was relegated to specific episodes only. I mean, I found the ending really satisfying, and part of that could be because it was a good change of pace from the barrage of plot stuff I’d had to endure for the past several episodes, but I’d rather I found the ending less satisfying if it meant the episodes leading up to it were a touch more interesting.

Because I don’t care about structure, I’m gonna talk about the narrative in the early episodes again, because they take something of a nonchronological approach and blend it with more of Yuki’s delusions, though I didn’t know about this in advance so while the clues were there I was still surprised by it – the death of Megu-nee. See, their cute girl slice of life anime teacher is a pink haired girl called Megumi, and at a basic level, she’s just the friendly teacher who loves her students and they all love her back. But what they don’t actually (directly) tell us until later on is that she’s been dead since before the start of the series and none of us as viewers actually knew because of Yuki’s damn delusions. It’s really great and that twist genuinely surprised me, but the second it happened it immediately clicked with me and I remembered all those “you’ve got no presence” jokes and ahhhh I really do like how the early episodes tell their stories. Later ones aren’t even bad they’re just kinda boring.

I’ve already talked about Yuki and a little bit about Megumi, but I think the rest of the characters were also pretty good. In the slice of life scenes we see that they’ve all got enough going on to carry like a 6 or 7/10 normal slice of life show but the zombie aspect makes them all the more fun. Kurumi’s maybe best girl but idk Miki’s also pretty good and also develops better than most of the other characters in the show. Kind of wish we got to know a bit more about Yuuri since most of her character’s just the reliable onee-san one that wants the rest to survive. They’re all pretty fun though and I actually dig all of their designs, which is nice because in lots of cute girl shows I often find myself immediately latching onto the girl with the best design. Here, the designs are pretty even all around.

Uhhhhhhhhhh this show looks cute as shit and I dig the OP

Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I’ve either run out of things to say or am too tired to remember anything.

Final score: 7/10

Definitely not the best show I’ve ever seen and there was room for improvement in a few areas, but honestly I did really enjoy this and it definitely wasn’t the big disappointment I know a lot of other people found it. While there was definitely potential with this that they left untapped, I wouldn’t’ call the potential they did tap “wasted” or anything like that. Would I recommend this show? Yeah, probably.

#this is lowwwwwww quality #as in the review #but #eh #if you're curious about my thoughts on this show just like #ask me #and i'll probably write a better review in one go off the top of my head just conversationally #gakkougurashi #josh reviews #21.2.19

[achillesmercury1996]

Mindless ramble I plan to read to my therapist about my ~life~ under the cut

Y’all, I just wish I knew what in the ever-loving FUCK I want to do with my life. Like, I wish there was something that I was genuinely GOOD at, but whenever I stop to think about it I just... *Radio Silence*. I went to primary school for 12 mother-fuckin’ years, yo, and during that time, I learned fuck all about myself and what I want to do with the remainder of my life. I dabbled in theater back in those days, but never stuck with it because I’m what my parents like to call ~a quitter~. (When, really, I just didn’t like rehearsals after school, and I especially didn’t like getting harassed by the male director with an ego bigger than Napoleon’s). 

Anyway, by some fucking MIRIACLE, ya girl graduated, and got accepted to UNIVERSITY. Which, for me, it was a huge fucking deal because I’ve never been considered ‘smart’ or ‘the college type’. Like, I graduated high school with a 2.9 GPA, whereas my sisters (who I’ve been endlessly compared to my entire life), graduated with a 3.8 and a 4.0, SO, and ended up going to one of the big 10 universities in America. Again...SO. 

Carrying on. I went to uni undecided because, again, I don’t know what the ever-loving FUCK I want to do with my life. So about halfway through my first semester, I was walking back to my dorm and was like, “FUCK IT, I write a lot, I’m gonna major in Journalism and Minor in Writing hahahahahaha because writing one semi-successful fanfic on fanfic dot net back in 2012 means I’m cut out for this legggoooo!!” 

Anyway, I declare my major and minor, and let me tell you...I took my first journalism courses at uni...and girl, journalism was NOT IT. Not for me, anyway. I always saw journalism as legit WRITING, and given the media boom, it is literally everything BUT writing. When I tell you my ass was hauling a FIFTY POUND VIDEO CAMERA AND BOOM MIC ACROSS CAMPUS FOR A PROJECT WORTH 50% OF MY GRADE...no, ma’am. I literally spent thousands of dollars on a course my 3rd year in my major where you were graded ONLY on doing these 2 film projects...and I DIDN’T DO EITHER OF THEM. I got a D- in the course just because my prof liked me, and would feel bad giving me an F. 

Side note, there was even a point during my 2nd year of uni where I decided to change my minor to EARTH SCIENCE because I was like, “yo, rocks are neat, and maybe I could write for Nat Geo one day hahahahahahaha”. Girl, WHAT!?

Okay, so needless to say, I literally fell into a pit, spiraled out of fucking control, drank so much cheap beer, and dropped tf out halfway through my 2nd semester my 3rd year. I had spent HOURS every single day, prior to my decision of dropping out, just looking at other majors offered at my uni (and I went to a liberal arts school, so we had a ton), and absolutely NONE OF THEM struck my interest. NONE.

So what did I do after I dropped out? You mean other than gain 50 pounds and work dead-end jobs? I WENT TO FUCKING BEAUTY SCHOOL. It’s like, someone looked at me, said my makeup looked nice once, and I RAN WITH IT, GIRL. I shit you not, even before I left the town my uni was in to move home, I was looking at beauty schools out there. It wasn’t until I realized that financial aid wouldn’t pay for housing at a beauty school did I realize I would have to move home. 

So I’m 22, and my dumb ass goes to Esthetics school. One of the WORST ESTHETICS SCHOOLS IN MICHIGAN, MIND YOU. BECAUSE I SOMEHOW GOT A SCHOLARSHIP. And, no, I didn’t get a scholarship because I’m ~so good at what I do~. I got a scholarship because I’m ~broke~, and the admissions officer felt bad for me, and said if I could write a decent essay about why I wanted to be an esthetician, then she could hook me the fuck up. And I said BET, because one thing that came out of me going to uni...I can write a BOMB essay, okay? I was the designated editor on my dorms floor my 1st year at uni. Not because I’m ~such a good editor~ but because I can bang out a 5 page essay in thirty minutes no problem. Ya girl knows how to write some bullshit down on paper and make it look like gold. Too bad I fucking HATE DOING IT. 

Anyway. I go to esthetics school, and immediately get licensed after graduating. It was one of the worst 6 month periods of my entire life, and I honestly hate reflecting back on it. It was also a waste of 8k, and now I’m 10k in student debt hahahaha thanks America! 

I genuinely tried to pursue esthetics afterward. I really did. I had a bitchin’ resume, and I went to a ton of interviews at salons, and applied to countless places as an esthetician and makeup artist. I even had a potential job lined up at a salon not far from my house...which ended up falling through because they wanted me to do ~free labor~ for three months full-time before hiring me. Which...no thanks. I needed money. So what did I do? I GET A JOB AT FUCKING KROGER. AS A PICK-UP ATTENDANT. Again, another dark point of my life that was followed by me quitting there after getting injured, going to work at HOBBY LOBBY only to have a mental breakdown before one of my shifts that leads to me quitting there. 

Holy fuck. So I had a small moment where I was unemployed for the summer. I went on a trip with my boyfriend, and was a bridesmaid and makeup artist for my sister’s wedding. So it was a good summer. Aside from having no direction in my life that wasn’t to the nearest bar or bottle of what-the-fuck-ever. But you know.

I got a job that December (2019) as a receptionist at a local gymnasium. Honestly, it wasn’t that bad. I had nice coworkers, the customers were actually pretty chill, and the kids were...tolerable. It wasn’t bad, okay? I actually liked it, but we all know what followed the year 2019...

That’s right...2020. Covid-19. The bane of all of our existences as of right now. 

We had to close in March of 2020 with no clue as to when we’d be able to go back. Which, at first, was a nightmare. Because I had shit to pay for, and NO INCOME. At least until unemployment kicked in, we got our first round of stimmy checks, and ya girl actually started to thrive. 

I studied more into Buddhism, got into wicca and witchcraft which ended up being a huge light in my life, believe it or not (even if I’m no good at it rn), and I was able to just...be. For a while at least. The world seemed to stop, and I could actually BREATHE for once. It was nice. I lost weight. I stopped drinking ENTIRELY (and haven’t had a drink since summer 2020 THANK YOU VERY MUCH). I read a lot more and finally got to expand my book collection. I just...got to be. And it was so nice.

But now that America and society wants life to ~go back to normal~ and ~keep moving~ (thanks, boomers), that means that I need to do the same. Except I don’t know what it means to ‘go back to normal’ because I’ve never had a normal. And I don’t know how to keep moving because sometimes I really don’t want to. I just want to be. I want to be able to sit down at dinner every night and not feel crazy anxiety because my parents keep staring at me like they’re about to start grilling me about not doing anything with my life. Because, girl, if I had any sense of direction and what I wanted to do with my life, I WOULD BE DOING SOMETHING, OKAY? Like, this pandemic is fucking horrific, okay? But I’d be a liar if I were to say that those few weeks in March and some of April where we were all just vibing, baking bread, sewing masks and being NICE TO EACH OTHER were awful. They weren’t. I loved them. I will forever be chasing that high. 

Fuck. I don’t even know what the point is in writing all of this. Maybe I’ll save it and read it to my therapist on Friday so they can get a sense of what goes on in my mind, or how I’m thinking or whatever...but yeah. I just don’t know what to do. I have no direction. I have no passions. There are things I enjoy doing that make me feel good, but once I pursue them, or am forced to do them in a way that isn’t how I want to do it...I lose that passion. Ya dig? Like back in high school when I was an actress. I actually loved it. But once I had to go to rehearsal after school and get bitched at by a director who treated a high school production of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang like it was Broadway (like, sir, you went to uni for THIS?)...that passion dissolved. Same with writing. Same with makeup artistry. Same with LITERALLY EVERYTHING I’VE EVER DONE IN MY LIFE. And like I said earlier, according to my parents, that makes me ~a quitter~. 

I just...I have no passions, and the few things I enjoy doing...I don’t want to pursue them and end up hating them too. I don’t act anymore. I don’t write. I don’t do anyone else’s makeup but my own. I don’t even shop or go to the stores where I used to work (except for Kroger because a bitch has to eat). So when it comes down to it, whenever someone suggests I work in an area where it’s utilizing one of my few interests, or working somewhere that I like to go, that brings me joy or peace...why the fuck would I do that? Because, like everywhere else, I know in my gut that it’ll ruin that for me. I don’t want those things ruined for me. Even if I might be ~pleasantly surprised~, I don’t want to take that risk. Shit, I’m not that kind of risk taker. I’ll jump off of a 20ft high diving board, but I’ll be DAMNED if I apply and get a job at my favorite bookstore only to end up hating it, okay? No thank you. 

So, like I said in the beginning...I just wish there was something I was genuinely good at. Something I was passionate about that I could pursue it. Maybe even on my own so I could just...enjoy it without corporate hierarchy or whatever barking orders at me or reprimanding me for breathing the wrong fucking way. You know? Or even something that I was SO GOOD AT, that the company or whoever hired me couldn’t afford to lose me as an employee because there would be no one else out there who could do that job quite like me. Except the latter would never be the case, you know? I’m not that good or desirable at fucking ANYTHING. 

Anyway. Too bad there isn’t a course I could take on life. Too bad I couldn’t have directed my own life when it came to deciding to go to uni. Because, honestly, I only went because it was what I was told to do. But I digress about that. I just need...direction. I don’t have any, and I haven’t had any direction for a while. My parents would tell you different because they think that if they advise me on what ~they think is right~ I’ll just do it, and finally get my life together. But they don’t want to hear any of this. They just want me to get a job, make money, and get out of their house. They always say shit like, “you’re 24! You’ve been here longer than either of your sisters!” Again, comparing me to my older siblings. It just doesn’t help when you already don’t know what the fuck you’re doing, you know? 

Ah, fuck...anyways. Writing this helps. Getting these thoughts out helps. Sharing it with...someone (like I said, I’ll probably read this to my therapist) helps. It doesn’t give me any sense of direction or what the fuck I want to do with my life, but hey, maybe if I take these thoughts to someone who has their life more together, or who could help me get there, it could be a good thing. 

I just want to feel fulfilled. And right now I don’t. I never have. And everyone I know doesn’t do anything that fulfills them. It just pays the bills and puts bread on the table. Which is nice and all, but there has to be more to life than living to work and working to live. What about living to live? I need that. Even doing something that is somewhat enjoyable for the time being would be nice. But I’m tired of waking up everyday wanting to go back to bed because the job I have or whatever is so awful it makes me not even want to go through the day. What life is that? I don’t want that. I can’t have that.

But above all, that’s really what I want in life. I want to do something fulfilling. But how do I get there? 

Anyway, if you read this far...thanks? Maybe one of y’all out there feels the same way, and it’s comforting to know when other people feel the same way, I guess? You’re not alone, is what I’m saying. We’re all on our own journey in this fucked-up simulation we call life, but it’s nice to have support along the way. You’re not alone. I’m here, and if you ever need someone to talk to, an ear to listen, or a shoulder to cry on, just know that I’m here.

Okay, I’ll shut up now. Back to our regularly scheduled content and ~the gay shit~!

Love y’all.

#thanks for reading #if you did #I'm good y'all #I'm getting help #I just needed to get my thoughts out #and like I said #maybe someone else can relate #so there you go #personal #about me #to be deleted #maybe #who knows #blah blah blah

[coe-lilium]

Would you be willing to rank the major Apocrypha characters (Masters and Servants) from best to worst? I'm curious as to how you would rank them

Gladly :D

Be warned that this will be 90% tastes and maybe 10% narrative/objective analysis. And sorry for taking so long to answer. Also, it got long ^^’

A concise, condensed ver before the cut

- 10+/10, tie between Mordred, Jeanne e Shirou

-  9.5/10: Semirams and Shishigou Kairi

- 8-7.5/10: Vlad, Achilles, Shakespeare, Caules 

- 7: Chiron, Fran, Atalanta, Karna, Fiore, Darnic

- 6, I start not caring: Gordes

- “wasted” and “still bitter after 5 years”, no numbers: Avicebron and Siegfried

- 5-4, it’s complicated: Astolfo

- 4: Sieg (and it might go down to 0, I’m serious)

- 3 to 0: Jack, Reika, Celenike 

Btw, I kept them vague, but spoilers/hints up to vol4 and 5

Rank “will fight the world for them, forever in Higashide’s debt, I wish one day for Nasu to write them himself because I trust the mushroom man to make me love them even more than I already do, 10+/10″: 

Mordred: SHE. Higashide’s best accomplishment in winning me over no matter other flaws. Tie with Gilgamesh as my favorite Nasuverse character ever.

There isn’t a single thing I don’t love about her (bar that atrocious “dress” under the armor, delete that). The armored and casual character design. The backstory as abused and exploited child who tries to break free of her mother influence and plots but ends up following them anyway because of her other parent rejection and, ultimately, how Morgan life lasting damage could not be undone without support. Her snarky, bratty, selfish and ferocious personality she show to the outside world and the hidden insecurities, the good heart and the ability to reflect on her flaws. Her loyalty and her desperate need for parental love and recognition as her own person. Her fighting style that is a delight to read or watch, truly a beast. Her chemistry and relationship with Shishigou, all of it. How it start in that cemetery, how develops over the course of the story, how she manage to open, connect and trust him and ultimately find a real father in him.

If I have to find a “wish this was expanded on” is her written in but not recognised by canon issues with gender/presentation which wasn’t a real issue for me until I read metas here and I’m now quite confused especially on how to write her (him?) in the future, when I’ll hopefully get at it.

The only reason I don’t completely wish for her and her Master to have been made MCs is the love I have for the following two guys and this couple steal too much of a spotlight from other characters.

Still, while theirs is a story more focused on personal growth and healing then deciding the fate of a great number of people or the world, in the end Mordred and Kairi saved each other so it could’ve still meshed neatly with the overall salvation theme. Sadly it was not meant to be but I’m more than content for what we got.

Jeanne: She. Who gets only second place and no caps lock because, a surprisingly good portrayal none withstanding, she could’ve been even better had Higashide done a bit more research (in his favour, I don’t know what kind of books on her are translated in Japanese and if the processes transcripts are among them).

For example I’ll forever maintain that, while the whole “romance” thing has a historical base (funny that, uh?), it required a way better realisation and as it’s written in Apocrypha does her character a disservice. Laeticia too, who was a potentially interesting “device” and could’ve been our outsider perspective, got derailed into more nonsense romance and aww poor Sieg and oh man, who-gives-a-damn: not me.

Also, not enough of a sarcastic spitfire or military prowess (“just waved the flag”, now that’s a funny way to write “half of Charles’ court was impressed by how good she was with every damn weapon”) for my tastes but I guess historical Jeanne is just that irreplaceable or TM chose to emphasise her piety and “sainthood” over other traits in order to avoid an Arturia 2.0.

Not a single mention to her mentors either, in 5 volumes (which is bad, extremely bad, Higashide why) and too much of Gilles de Rais nonsense but unfortunately Type Moon is committed to roll with it. Dunois, La Hire and d’Alencon never, poor me. 

That said, Fate!Jeanne is really a good interpretation, firmly rooted in history and I love, love her. 

Her faith and lack of hate are spot-on and are treated with respect instead of mocked. 

She’s allowed to have a no-nonsense and even ruthless soldier like attitude, a protective streak (which always remind me of that promise she made to a young noblewoman to keep her husband safe and bring him back to her, or how she took care of her young squire. Both survived her) and loth of empathy at the same time. 

She’s down to earth but can also be immature and have flaws and be tempted. 

This post is already long as it is, so here’s some more reasons I love Apo Jeanne: 

Novel Jeanne musing 1       

Jeanne meta from the manga 1

Jeanne meta from the manga 2

My eternal greatest disappointment will forever be the lack of a satisfying confrontation with Shirou. You write someone able to shake Jeanne d’Arc convictions, make her doubt her conduct and moral standing when the threat of torture and the Rouen process weren’t able do so... and you don’t follow on it? Unforgivable.   

Shirou: This guy. This absolute mess of a human being. I need more and no, GO, “evil alternative self” isn’t what I mean (but yeah, gimme him too). After discovering him in Apocrypha I started digging my university library to hunt down his IRL self story and there is no higher accomplishment for a Fateverse character for me.                                                                                    Fascinating person and fascinating take by TM, double so since I discovered dude’s still being vilified in contemporary Jp stories/entertainment and man do that enrage me.

It’s like someone mixed up a character I love (Kirei), one I loathe (Kiritsugu), shaked it and the result it’s the best possible one I could ask for. 

I like the character design (both), the historical and post 3HGW backstory and how it shaped him into a Jeanne opposite (for excellent reasons), the most “Kotomine” traits like the snark and trollish attitude and how they cover all the suffering, despair and hate boiling under the constant smirk. How Higashide avoided the “turned evil” interpretation that’s prevalent in jp entertainment and made him a good person and a hero, if a misguided one and also the trapping of a “void/hollow inside” personality and instead gave him those fragments where you see he’s still a 17yo kid. 

He’s not just interesting, he’s funny to read, even with all the angst going on.  

The interactions with Shakespeare are great and... his relationship with Semiramis. Man, that’s excellent, excellent stuff. Can’t gush enough about how much I love them together

My only great complaint -for now, until I see a certain late discovery with my own eyes- is that all the narrative build up and comparisons between him and Jeanne (done in-universe and acknowledged within the text mind you, I’m not headcanoning here) went wasted. 

How can you write two characters who mirror each other so perfectly, put them as “head” of their factions, in the same role both... and not deliver with a confrontation? The only thing that tried to do so was -ironically- the anime in ep #13, as their confrontation in the novels wasn’t as personal and as good as the anime.      

Rank “good, excellent civilisation, never get tired of them”, 9.5/10

Shishigou: best father ever, 100% should legally adopt Mordred. He was/is extremely enjoyable to read about, snarky, smart, his fucked-up magus backstory had long lasting effects but managed not to destroy him, on the outside your tough, broody mercenary making hard decision but actually a good, moral person with a caring nature and, again, a great father. 

As already said, his and Mordred narrative is less tied to the different views of salvation theme and more to the “people making their wishes come true” and they’re bit of outliers for the whole duration of the story but I wouldn’t change a thing (except one T_T). 

His relationship with Mordred is one of the absolute highlights of Apocrypha for me, in every medium.

Semiramis: shallow reason first: charming, scheming, hot asshole-ish royalty in league with a Kotomine troll, what more could’ve I asked for?                        That she was an interesting char in her own right, which is what I got.          

More in-depth, she’s another character I never have enough of. Begrudging sole responsible adult of red team, I couldn’t help but grin every time she had to deal with AKA team or single members, not to speak of her scenes with Shakespeare, which are both amusing and very good for characterisation. 

She may not have that much of screen time compared to other faves but earned her place by making what she had memorable. 

Her backstory is simple: abandoned child learns to exploit her society view on women to rise to the top and get everything she wants and fuck everything else. Which not only neatly establish how and why she became what she is but also why this broken kid, which is a sort of her exact opposite, fascinate her so much. 

Speaking about our broken resident Kotomine, her chemistry with Shirou is simply great, all of their scenes are a joy to read. They have fun plotting together, they (she, dude’s either too young to notice or just let it go) casually flirts, have a functioning, mostly open relationship from the get-go that works no matter how messed up they really are and get each other’s back until the very end. Most of the more lighthearted stuff is in vol 1-2, then things gets more interesting. 

See, as much as she seems to be (and like to present herself as such to enemies) the perfectly devoted Servant and is aiding Shirou… she’s also truly villainous, cold and ruthless as hell and is also very conflicted and switch back and forth on what she wants, not much as out of the War as instead from her Master in particular (don’t think bad… okay, do) for the whole series. Vol3 and 4 are a godsend for her character and you dunno how I wish we had more than a bare bone summary for vol 5 because god damn some things in that summary. 

With the many, many stay night or Zero parallels and homages in Apocrypha, she come off as a sort of reverse Zero Gilgamesh and Gilles in being, respectively, the devilish member of the  Kotomine - Servant pair and the “personal involvement/interest in the saint figure, sometimes verging on the creep-ish, predatory behaviour" one (Gilles was 100% full on creepy mode, Semiramis keeps her thoughts for herself and is just tempted. I strongly appreciate), “reverse” for being conflicted, but in the end being a better person than both dudes above and respecting and knowing her partner enough to let go of her worst desires/frustrations. There’s some really good stuff in these two’s relationship, let me tell you. 

If Mordred-Shishigou take the cake for best platonic relationship in Apo, Semiramis and Shirou single handy destroy every competition for the romantic one. 

Rank “You. I like you”, 8-7.5/10

Vlad: here’s someone I’m pretty content with how he’s written (I wouldn’t change a thing), but really wish had had more space just because I enjoyed him a lot. Higashide nailed him and I wanted more of a historical Vlad III who is a hero, a good ruler caring for his country and a ruthless warrior and executioner and none of this aspects negate the others. Plus, it was refreshing to see a Vlad III being so clearly separated from the “vampire” twist that his wish for the Grail was to erase book and legacy from existence.

Achilles: a simil Alexander, I dislike the IRL/myth dude but can’t stay mad with their Fate incarnations. I like his personality, his quirks, his relationships with Chiron and Atalanta. Loved the mocking duel (and the anime committee will hear me scream from the other side of the world if I get robbed of it  yeah, I wrote this part before ep17. Fuck you A1). 

I don’t even think he needed more screen time, he’s really fine with what’s shown. Not every character need to be a main one and Achilles manage to be a good secondary one, with enough development and characterisation.

Shakespeare: here’s an enjoyable dude I like to hate. Amusing character, his interactions with Semiramis and Shirou are a joy to read or watch, but, fuck this guy. May Moriarty and Saber Gilles have their way with you in Chaldea.

Caules: one of those rare beasts known as “perfectly functioning siblings” of the Nasuverese. Respect his Servant and tries to do her right till the end. A good dude.

Rank “could’ve shined more in a longer and more focused series, but okay” aka those who served their purpose, 7/10 

Chiron                                                                                                            Atalanta                                                                                                          Karna                                                                                                                Fran                                                                                                                  Fiore                                                                                                                Darnic

Not really anything to say about each one here. They’re fine as they are.            

Could’ve used more Darnic, the 3HGW is a fascinating subject no matter who the Einzbern decide to summon and his actions shaped the whole world of Apo. Personally I’d have cut the Jack business and expanded him as a character/treat, maybe to shed light into CT politics and magus society fuckery (because if there’s something the Yggdmillennia as a whole and each one of them in particular show is how the magi society is an aberration that twist and corrupt everything it touch). But in the end I know it was either Ygg vs CT as promised or Rulers against each other and I’ll gladly take the latter.  A longer series could’ve had space for both, who knows.

Rank “nice arc. There are more interesting people but I’ve come to appreciate you” 

Gordes: Probably the human character who experience more growth in the series.

Rank “wasted” and “decent what little is there, perhaps, but still bitter after five years”

Avicebron: also know as the poor thing similar to the antagonist in background and wish that could’ve worked with the themes while also being a personal foil to the protagonist in being a golem/artificial life creator and user but the writer couldn’t/wouldn’t bother with him for some reason and he only got to be the “Gilles de Rais summon Chtlulu and heroes have to team up to bring him down” of Apocrypha, with no other purpose than being a Zero “homage”. 

To add insult to injury, the Adam threat does literally jack shit on a narrative point because “Servant goes stray and threaten the world, Servants form both factions have to team up to defeat him” already happened, 2 episodes before for the anime, end of vol2 vs beginning of vol3 for the novel version. And Mordred and Shishigou making an alliance with the surviving Black members was already going to be a thing after the Gardens mess. Shame, shame and shame.

Siegfried:  tainbocuailnge here has written some good meta about him lately and, yeah, perhaps all of that was intended, and I can kinda appreciate it. The point is that I couldn’t give a single crap over the OC when for him to come into being means sacrificing freaking Siegfried. I may not have read as much or being already attached to the literature/epic character like other cases but… no, just no. Siegfried deserved way better than what he got in Type Moon. 

Add more personal bitterness because with such numbers I thought it was finally time for the Heroes to shine and for the Masters to be sidelined and instead we got super special super powered MC. To hell with it.  

If anything, Siegfried may be the only character the anime did more good than damage. He’s still there and sometimes get to act as a mentor instead of being a useful power up and then fucking off for the remaining 4 volumes.

Rank “I tried to like you, I wish I could like you, but I cannot stand you no matter what”, 5-4

Astolfo: I’ve tried to like him but to no avail (rest assured, though, that I’ll deck anyone who’ll try use that t*ap or “girl” bullshit). 

It has to be that unholy combination of extremely airhead personality and mannerism, all the screen time he gets that could’ve gone to my favourites, that idiotic attempt at a “love triangle” (for the love of God, Higashide) and a voice acting that, I swear, even if I already didn’t like him from the novel the anime would’ve been the nail in the coffin. All these combined make him grates on my nerves like few other Fate characters. Perhaps part of my distaste comes from being unable to shake the feeling that the author himself don’t respect him.

I realise it’s quite… unfair, because on the page he has everything I usually like: he’s brave, he’s kind, he has morals and will maintain them in front of everything, he stand up to assholes, he save and inspire people, you can overpower him as much as you like and he still won’t care and will still fight you. 

Astolfo is a good, decently written character and I really wish the franchise would just stop using him as a joke and stop being so gross to him in order to cater to even more gross “fans”. 

If I were to put tastes/guts feelings aside, I could praise him for pages. I simply can’t bring myself closing the gaps from appreciating the undeniable qualities to actually like the character. 

Rank: fluctuating between “your concept should’ve been handled by a more experienced narrator” and “goddamn, does your very existence piss me off”, pending more on the second as we go on, less than 4

Sieg: on the page kid’s got a good arc. An homunculus, a magus’s tool, trash to be used and disposed off, gains consciousness and, shaped by what he witness and the actions and sacrifices of heroic figures, rise to free his kin from their slavers and then find himself fighting to “save the world”. How he attained freedom and have come to interpret it and his experiences put him in the path of the antagonist and the two and their “ideologies” makes for an interesting double face of the coin, forced salvation vs free offer and answer to actual prayers. Sounds pretty great. 

Unfortunately, Higashide aimed too high for his skills or didn’t learn well from Nasu and Shirou Emiya, or both. 

Otakus mad because he “got the waifu” aside, Sieg do come across as too damn lucky and overpowered and there is a limit on how much the in-universe reason “damn, the Counter Force had to work hard to give him a chance to stop a Heroic Spirit with hundreds time his experience” can go before the readers start getting annoyed at Heroes dropping dead or getting sidelined just to push him forward. 

I’m not a fan of these buzzwords, but the impression he’s a fan fiction OC that force the original and more interesting cast to revolve around/sacrifice for him or hijack their plots is damn strong. Scrap it, it’s not an impression, it’s exactly what happen. In at least 4 or 5 cases. 

There were also too many times he bore me to death so not really what you want from your protagonist. 

Another thing, more grave than personal preferences: his wish/fight firstly go nowhere, then get resolved too quickly without a fuss and then, once his goal has been effortlessly achieved, he proceeds to tag along and stole duels and confrontations from other characters, on which he had no stakes nor reason to be. What kind of writing is this?! He get the contract with Astolfo, walks in the castle and the Yggd agree on releasing the homunculi. And that’s it. Wow?

Also here’s my 100% personal reason for not having an ounce of interest in Sieg, godly writing skills or not: for once, just once, we could’ve got our first Fate solo female protagonist. An all-around badass but, at the same time, not an Arturia nor Shiki nor Arc nor Aoko clone. Who just happened to be my favourite historical figure ever.

Could’ve kept the same theme of opposing concepts of salvation, brought the Ruler vs Ruler/Saint vs Saint thing in the spotlight, with all their nice baggage of similar lives resulting in  opposite views by different regrets and traumas, faith or lack (that instead got all swept under the rug, and man if the self awareness of vol4 isn’t something to behold) and after five years I still feel personally robbed of all of this, especially when it became clear Apocrypha was yet another “male protagonist with the world revolving around him while the female heroine gets to be his support/sidekick. Oh, and as already said, he get the confrontation with whom the narrative builds as her rival”. Because of course he does. 

You don’t sideline Jeanne frigging d’Arc and expect me to forgive you for it.

Rank “why are you even here, why are we wasting anything on you”

Jack and Reika: ye god, why. The concept behind this Jack the Ripper? I find Fake ver superior but I’m on board. Then, first, that fucking character design. Sorry BL, reddit, MAL and whatever: putting a child in a thong is a revolting choice of character design and no, there’s no “well, she learned from prostitutes” that count.    I appreciate at least the connection made with Atalanta. But the execution. Their “plot” drag and drag on and goes nowhere (hilariously so in the anime. What was the point of Jack killing some random homunculi and disappearing for the whole arc, again?). Their only narrative purpose is doing ???? for roughly three volumes, *do that* to Atalanta and shaking Sieg’s worldview. At least they grant Jeanne some badass solo scenes and to us more insight on her character. Still the equivalent of a anime-only filler, and a bad one. 

Pity, really, because a child Jack who 1. is a child and act as one and 2. get heavily influenced by her/their Master and thus could either become a better person or be exploited wasn’t that bad of a twist for a famous figure but the pair was never allowed to be more than “Apo pair of rogue murderers”. 

Celenike: just… begone. I cheered when she died in the novel, cheered loudly when she died in the anime and will cheer even more loudly when she will die in the manga. 

#Anonymous #answer #fate apocrypha #fate apocrypha spoilers #fate meta #almost 4k words #fate series

[anyway-i-love-vanderwood]

Vanderweek Day 1

✿ Iiiiiiit’s Vanderweek! For day one, I’ve written out my HEAVILY headcannoned version of my Vanderwood’s backstory. Warning for mentions of dysphoria, harassment, bullying, child abuse, and some slurs.

I hope you enjoy! 

Throughout Mary Vanderwood the III’s life, they had discarded names, pronouns, and titles like most people discarded empty pens or splintered pencils.

On a hazy, smoke-covered morning at approximately 5:45am, the name ‘Oliver Poppins’ was written on a birth certificate, and an exhausted woman – so very young, too young to be a mother – was driven home by her similarly too-young, not-yet husband. The newborn cradled in her arms was a pudgy thing, oddly shaped as most babies are, with a frizz of blond hair and squinty eyes whose color reminded her of molten caramel. When she looked into his face for the first time, she knew she loved her child. She knew that nothing would ever keeping her from loving that child.

Unfortunately, the heart is weak and prone to wandering, and by the time Oliver was five, time had made a liar out of her. He was no longer a darling boy, but instead became a little brat.

[the rest is under the read more!]an

It’s hard to say that it was her fault, given that she spent too much time working in a small, dingy little shop that sold cigarettes, cigars, pipes and tobacco, and when she came home, she spent too much time cooking for a man who never had much nice to say about anything. Perhaps it’d be hard to say it was her husband’s fault too, given that he’d grown up in a small, dingy little apartment in Birmingham, he lived in a small, dingy little apartment in Birmingham, and it was likely that he’d die in a small, dingy little apartment in Birmingham. Such a life had a way of withering the soul, but neither was it little Oliver’s fault, for he’d never chosen to be born out of wedlock as an accidental child to a couple that was far too poor to afford anything of note for him.

Despite being the most innocent of the three, it was Oliver was the one who bore the brunt of his parents combined dissatisfaction and so acquired the title of burden.

Starting school was simultaneously a source of relief and of eternal torment, as young Oliver was finally given a way to escape his home and the ire of his parents… only to earn the ire and condescension of his peers.

By the time he was in his third year, he felt he’d heard it all. Rat-boy. Idiot. Scabby-knees, smelly-breath, ugly, dirty, filthy, gross, unwanted. The only thing he was fond of was, oddly enough, when the boys in his class jeered and called him Mary Poppins. He went home that day and asked who that was, and his mother – her exhaustion giving way to a rare moment of tender care – showed Oliver what soon became his favorite movie.

It caused him to dream. He wished he lived in that well-to-do house, wished he was rich and happy and had a cool magic nanny who floated down from the sky using an enchanted umbrella. (In his fourth year, he was sent to the hospital for trying to be that cool magic nanny with an enchanted umbrella and, instead, fell flat on his face and broke his collarbone.)

Oliver Poppins was hit for that, and he never tried to dream again.

As he grew, his hair darkened into a deep brown, his expression darkened into a sullen frown, and his skin darkened with a smattering of ugly bruises. When pressed, he told the school councilor he was just a clumsy person, and that they were all accidental. The school councilor believed him, because it was much easier than the alternative, and everyone else gossiped about how he lived in a storeroom and his parents beat him senseless.

This wasn’t entirely off-the-mark, as the entirety of the Poppins apartment was, quite frankly, a storeroom. Mr. Poppins couldn’t bear to throw anything away, so the small space was made even more small by piles of junk and towering refuse. Nothing could be cleaned, nothing could be thrown away, and Oliver Poppins had long ago forgotten what color the walls were, what material the floors were made of.

Perhaps he never knew. Perhaps, to him, it was always soot and paper.

Perhaps to him, the world was always dark and grey.

In his tenth year of school, Oliver tried putting on make-up for the first time.

It was rebellion in its purest, simplest form. Everything around him was filthy, vile. It felt like the dirt had burrowed into his skin, like the hate had clawed its way into the very core of his essence, and in his desperation to tear it all off, to feel something other than vile, he sought out things that were supposed to be beautiful. He skipped class to put on stolen foundation and lipstick in the school’s bathroom, and when the boys who came into the bathroom to smoke found him with shadow on his eyelids and blush on his cheeks, they started calling him queer. Trannie. Shemale.

Maybe I am, he thought to himself as he covered his bruises with smooth paste. Maybe they should have put that on my birth certificate instead, because it’s not like anyone calls me Oliver very much.

Girls are prettier, anyway. Maybe I’d be happier if I was one of those.

After her eleventh year of school, that teenager who wasn’t really sure what or who he was decided to drop out of school to disappear. It wasn’t that she hated school itself – far from it. He was a very clever girl, and raised in different circumstances, she could have become a well-regarded adult. But no one cared about him, so she cared about no one else, and he thought it’d be better if her existence was erased once and for all.

That was, in fact, what ended up happening, though not really in the way that he expected.

Every day, Oliver walked home alone from school, but on a cloudy afternoon in April, her walk was interrupted by an array of bullies. Except, at that point in her life, the people who bullied Oliver Poppins were very big, very strong, and very hateful of boys who wanted to be anything like girls. It was the sort of encounter that could have easily lead to more than just some bruises and a scraped knee.

Except, Oliver Poppins didn’t care anymore, and when someone is that pissed off and that furious at the world, they become a very inconvenient opponent. Despite being outnumbered and outclassed, she held her fucking own, and tore red into their faces with his sharp, prettily painted nails. Fuck them, she thought to herself. Fuck them all.

Fuck everyone on this god-damned earth.

The conflict left her scathed but, ultimately, alright, and she found an alley to sulk in and light up a cigarette.

That was where he found her.

Like Oliver, he wasn’t the sort of person who hadn’t much of a name, and to Oliver, he gave her a chance to discard hers. He’d been watching her, he said, watching her performance in school, her instances of petty theft, and he’d watched her conflict with the group of bullies, too. She was an interesting child. Desperate, homeless, yet very bright, very clever. Furious and fervent – it’d be a shame if someone like that withered away, wouldn’t it? If someone like that died in a small apartment in Birmingham, with nothing to show for their life but sorrow and a heart full of regrets?

Wouldn’t it be a complete shame if he died as miserable, pathetic little Oliver Poppins?

Oliver agreed, and desperate enough to follow a stranger into the dark, he became Codename: Vanderwood.

The Agency sought to recruit people with no attachment to their former lives. It made it so much easier for them to be tools rather than people, after all. They could become anyone, be anything, because they had started off in this world as nothing. They were moldable, shapeable, transformable.

Vanderwood was remade into a secret agent, and for once in their life, everything could be as pretty and orderly and clean as they wanted.

Beyond her desire to scour the remnants of filth and pestilence off his flesh, Vanderwood had no idea what she wanted to be. A boy? A girl? A cruel person? A kind person? An intelligent person? A strong person? A cheerful person? A sad person? Vanderwood took on so many roles, so many identities as she worked that, in the end, his entire personality and sense of being became an amorphous blob. Agent Vanderwood simultaneously meant nothing and everything, and in the end, they decided, fuck it.

A shadow like them couldn’t be labeled or named. They just were. Boundless, formless, completely without grounding or attachment. Their identity was wholly at the discretion of the Agency, and they contented themselves with being a knife wielded by the shadowy figures who hid behind the curtain of society.

At least – that’s how it was, until Vanderwood met Agent Zero-Seven.

They were assigned to be his handler, and from the first time they looked into Zero-Seven’s eyes, they understood that this was a creature with origins similar to Vanderwood’s own. Zero-Seven was a stern boy, sullen, with a personality that fit the numerical designation the Agency had given him. Zero-Seven never spoke of his family, but he didn’t have to, really. It was clear in his eyes, in his posture… He had, like Vanderwood, been raised in a cage.

He had, like Vanderwood, been forced out of his old identity by the brutality of the world.

Maybe Vanderwood felt bad for him. Maybe that’s why they tried to pull him out of his shell a little bit, joke with him some, make snide comments about terribly dressed people on the street and the stupid marks that they were assigned to eliminate. Maybe that’s why they, for once – without really knowing what they were doing – sought to label themselves as something: Zero-Seven’s friend. Maybe that’s why they tried to keep him from working himself to death, maybe that’s why they forced this Korean boy to watch movies from their childhood and laugh a little.

Maybe that’s why, when they found an old copy of Mary Poppins in a bargain bin, they brought it to his apartment, popped it in, and made him experience one of the few glimmers of hope from their childhood. And maybe that’s why, when Zero-Seven pointed at the screen and said, “Oh my god, she’s just like you!”, they laughed and said that perhaps their full name should be Mary Vanderwood.

Maybe that’s why, when Seven finally started to laugh, and joke, and play, they allowed him to append the Third to their ridiculous, ridiculous name. A true British agent needed a posh sounding name, he said! And the pretentious, uppity personage called Vanderwood needed a pretentious, uppity name to match.

Throughout Mary Vanderwood the III’s life, they had discarded names, pronouns, and titles like most people discarded empty pens or splintered pencils. Nothing mattered to them, everything was transient, and the only thing that they defined themselves with was the iron rule of the Agency that they owed everything to. But Zero-Seven – who was ridiculous, stupid, idiotic, yet somehow precious enough that they desperately didn’t want him to suffer – made a mark on their life that stuck, despite everything.

Despite everything, there was one person in the world who said their name with a smile, and Mary Vanderwood the III’s life began in that moment.

#mysme #mysme headcanons #mystic messenger #mystic messenger headcanons #mysme reactions #mysme imagines #mystic messenger imagines #long post #mystic messenger spoilers #mysme spoilers #tw child abuse #tw slurs #tw dysphoria #tw bullying #vanderwood #vanderweek

[academiakrp-blog]

SCHEDULE: Comparative Politics,  Speech Science, Statistical Mechanics, Modern Language: English

EXTRACURRICULARS: Honor Society President

SUNGWOL UNIVERSITY BULLETIN, 05.06.17: New student Jeon Hyunwoo has officially been accepted into the Sophomore class! Hyunwoo is twenty years old and plans on majoring in Political Science. He has been reported to be knowledgeable, hard-working,  and self-reliant but also harsh, cynical, and domineering. His personality will take him far as a president of the honor society. Let’s welcome Hyunwoo to the school and wish him a good year!

OOC!

Name and pronouns: AJ

Other muses: Park Jaehyun

Time zone: PST

IC!

Muse name: Jeon Hyunwoo

Birthday (or age): 20 // June 8th

Faceclaim: Park Hyunsik

School:  Sungwol University

Grade: Second year

Desired clubs: Honor Society President

Positive traits: knowledgeable, hard-working,  self-reliant

Negative traits: harsh, cynical, domineering

Proficiency:  Due to his father being one of the most renowned CEO’s in most of Asia, Hyunwoo is known for having inherited his same intelligence, dedication and way of thinking that aids him in achieving whatever he puts his mind to. Because of that, Hyunwoo easily soared through his classes in high school, earning him a scholarship to Sungwol University in hopes of majoring in Political Science and becoming a lawyer in the long-run.

Electives: Speech Science, Statistical Mechanics

BIOGRAPHY!

They say that money is power and power could give a man anything he wants in life.

Whether it be luxury, education or love —- money can provide it all and for some, being rich is the only aspiration they know in order to achieve happiness. And perhaps,  many would assume, that’s why Jeon Kyungsoo became as powerful as he was now. Maybe that was the reason why he left behind his family in the small island of Jeju and moved to Seoul, climbing from a poorly paid intern up until he reached the capabilities to run his own company.

They say that the Jeon household was living the perfect life, because it was ran by the CEO of Asia’s number one vehicle manufacturer.

Jeon Hyunwoo, on the other hand, could beg to differ.

Being the only child to such a well-off family would mean that he got everything he ever wanted and more. His clothes were bought from personal designers, his elementary education came from the best tutor South Korea could offer and he never went a single minute in his existence knowing what hunger felt like. The Jeon boy was spoiled and everyone, even himself, could not deny it.

But the appreciation for such a lifestyle had only lasted for so long, when his first year of high school came around.

Chunghwa was a wealthy school full of mostly wealthy and intelligent kids — much to his satisfaction. It was the kind of place his parents — wherever they were — would have wanted him to attend, in hopes that the school’s reputation would give him a boost in life to get him to where THEY were now. Rich, rich, and rich. And that was exactly what the naive fourteen year old wanted as well.

Hyunwoo went about his first year scoring fantastic grades and his reputation soared due to both his looks and status as the KYU car company’s “prince.” He relished in the rumors — both good and bad — and he could care less about those he called his friends, since he was smart enough to know that they only hung around him because of who he was anyway. His high school life was almost mechanical, consisting of him attending school and heading home to do his homework and scouring through mail that he knew he would not receive. Because what busy CEO and his trophy wife would want to check up on their adolescent son while on a business trip in another country, right? Which was alright, since they were bound to come home for a week or two at the minimum, before having to venture off again. Hyunwoo was fine with that. At least, that was what he thought and such a way of thinking had helped him move through the empty and much-too-large manor as days went on.

Jeon Hyunwoo was somebody and nobody at the same time.

Whatever happiness he felt, he didn’t care about whether or not it was real. He just wanted to feel SOMETHING and sometimes, that would come in the form of his own cruelty inflicted on fellow peers he assumed were “beneath” him. Within a year, Hyunwoo’s smile had brightened and his grades had improved, despite his harsh behavior.

As time went on, he managed to convince himself that if he, at least, could handle feeling something  — whether it be sadness, pain, self-hatred — it meant that he was still alive and capable. He was still someone who could live without his parents telling him that they loved him but instead of sending one of their maids to do it in their place.

They say that a man is not born to be cruel, but rather made through life’s obstacles.

At twenty years old and caring not for others, but only for himself and making his distant parents proud of what he can achieve — Jeon Hyunwoo believes he is the one exception.

His parents had created a monster from the moment they brought him into existence.

club form

MUSE INFO:

Muse name, age, and grade: Jeon Hyunwoo / 20 / second year

School attending: Sungwol University

Current clubs (leading or attending): N/A

CLUB INFO:

Starting or joining: Joining….I think…

Club name: Honors Society

Additional Notes: I’d like to apply for the president position, por favor <_>

WRITTEN:

Jeon Hyunwoo’s very smart and I figured, if he could have one of the highest GPA’s in high school, then he should do just as well in college. He’s hard-working and dedicated, despite being a little abrasive sometimes, but school has always been something that remained steady in his life and thus encouraging him to keep it that way.

#ac:roster #ac:student #ac:sungwol #ac:hyunwoo