#not to mention my general despair in the world at large | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

shockersalvage · 1 year

Text

Salvage Showcase: Isshiki Madarai

An attempt by yours truly in trying to be active once again here! And what better way than by talking about the characters in Danganronpa that don’t get as much love from the fandom, mostly due to appearing in media that weren’t officially translated or just aren’t that well known. I’ll be giving my analysis on their role in their respective material and my thoughts on them!

So whose up first?

Oh.

Summary

Well, let’s start with a brief explanation. Isshiki Madarai is from Danganronpa Zero and is the Ultimate Bodyguard and is a member of the Hope’s Peak Student Council. On-paper at least. In actuality, despite officially being on the council, no one considers him a true member, instead regulating him to just being a bodyguard. Something they’re painfully aware of.

‘They’re’? Yeah, Madarai is actually one of eight octuplets with the collective talent of ‘Multiple Birth Siblings’ (henceforth will be known as MBS because that full title can take a hike). They all act under the ‘Isshiki Madarai’ name and are reoccurring antagonists for the events of Zero. Their main goal is to gain vengeance for the Student Council’s demise, with their intuition leading them to believe Ryoko had something to do with the incident and relentlessly hunting her. In the end, all eight end up being murdered by either Mukuro or Junko, with their deaths being covered up by the school as them being expelled.

Personality wise, the Madarai are all fairly similar to each other: merciless, stubborn, prideful, and ego’s easily wounded. They’re also detrimentally violent, which leads to their downfall on multiple occasions. Overall, they’re a clan that feels insulted over the Tragedy of Hope’s Peak and will stop at nothing to find the perpetrator of the incident. They also hold keen intuition and can be cautious, but they're opt to use brute force like torture or murder in order to get their way.

The Rundown

Now, the good I will say about the Madarai is how they fit in with Danganronpa Zero’s theme of identity. Or rather, lack of identity. Not to mention a theme of irrelevance (I’m not making of fun of them, being serious). As well as being contrasts to both Yuto Kamishiro and the Despair Sisters. The first thing that comes to mind is Madarai’s sibling gimmick, where eight individuals are acting as one person, effectively suppressing their own individuality for the sake of a lie for intimidation purposes.

However, in doing so they had also effectively stunted themselves. In exchange for uniformity, they had become utterly predictable to the point that Ryoko herself, a scared amnesiac, was able to knock one out after being exposed to their fighting style for long enough and Mukuro even chided that being the reason she can kick their asses so easily. In a series where Ultimates praised over their own unique individual talents, their choice to be the same effectively doomed them. This uniformity also goes against the Despair Sisters. While they may be twins, both are extremely different in terms of personality and skills - you can’t approach one like you do the other and trying for anything conventional against them is bound to get you hurt. They’re existence pretty much slaps the Madarai’s methods in the face and given their major feat of ENDING THE WORLD you have to admit their way worked best.

As for Yuto? In general, both of their desire was to figure out the truth to the Tragedy of Hope’s Peak, albeit for different motivations. For the Madarai it was for the sake of their own wounded pride and vengeance. For Yuto? A way to increase his own fame. While the Madarai’s methods are flashy and brutal, with the culprit in their sights given their intuition- its largely ineffective and doesn’t gain much in the way of practical information and only results in them being taken out knowing nothing useful. In Yuto’s case, befitting his nature as a spy (though not his personality), he gains credible evidence and extremely useful knowledge into stuff regarding details like Izuru Kamukura. However, he is physically weak, so when he gets in way too deep, he ends up killed for his efforts. It’s one of the case where, if both had known about the other’s intentions and opted to work together, they probably could have covered way more ground and be able to make up for the others weaknesses.

What’s interesting about both is how they relate to the identity theme of Zero - or the lack of it. Yuto is the Madarai’s polar opposite. Yuto design and purpose is to be fairly simple and forgettable, much to his chagrin. But its in this lack of identity where he finds strength to get things done and showcase his information gathering skills and become fairly close to the truth. In contrast, the Madarai’s design is supposed to stand out (for better or for worse) with his elaborate snake-like monster design and serves as a plot roadblock. Yet, his effects on the plot when you look back is rather paper thin. At best, their attempts are good for highlighting Ryoko’s competence and Mukuro’s power. At worst, which to me they hit that way often, they are aforementioned roadblocks. Any interaction one would want to see further or plot details you want to see developed end up getting derailed with their whole invincible shtick and their own story of revenge concerning the Council’s demise. They’re purposefully made to be intrusive in the story, yet its also on purpose that their storyline never successfully goes anywhere. It ties back into their secondary theme of ‘irrelevance’.

The Madarai, technically, would have been ‘16th student’ of the Student Council killing game, but weren’t there because Junko never considered them one. She wasn’t the only one to consider this. The Headmaster, Steering Committee, Soshun Murasame, hell not even themselves if Mishiki bitterly remembering it is to go by. No one considers them a true councilman beyond just being a guardian and they had no use in-story beyond that. Mukuro even points this out that she actually doesn’t want to fight the Madarai since it just creates more victims and it was better for the remaining Madarai to go away since the story had nothing to do with them (I’ll talk about DR0!Mukuro at a later date). To put it simply, they aren’t wanted in-story since they have no relevance to the bad guys’ plans and for, well Hope’s Peak aren’t really good guys, the administration side the Madarai’s worth as people aren’t considered beyond their talent. Once they failed no one even bats an eye at them. Even DR3 shows that, even in spite of that guardian role, no one in the Student Council bothered to alert the Madarai they received threatening messages or bring one along. It’s one of those things that retroactively gives the impression Madarai’s presence was quite the afterthought in-universe and adds a layer of a bitter tragedy to it. They stand out and have utility, but no one sees their potential and layers beyond that. Their gimmick would be interested in a more action oriented series, but in Danganronpa (a murder mystery fiction) brute strength takes a back seat for brainpower. And given DR’s nature, where Ultimates who excel in combat more than them exist (like the Ultimate Soldier) or excelling in intelligence, like the Despair Sisters the only thing awaiting a character like the Madarai is cruel defeat and to be swept under the rug just as fast.

Personal Thoughts

Now I’ll be blunt: I don’t like these guys. In fact I think they just might be my most hated Danganronpa characters of all time. Remember the whole ‘they’re intrustive’ bit I went into earlier? Yeah, them showing up again and again with the strategy of ‘we’ll beat you up until you fess up’ quickly wore thin. I know they’re supposed to be bitter hotheads and I know them acting the same is intentional, but God did it not make their antics bearable. “Yes, let’s threaten this guy’s life! Yes, let’s attack the principal’s daughter! Surely this won’t backfire on us, assuming we don’t die ourselves”. Ugh.

Side note: Also hate their designs. You want to make a snake like student? Sure designers go ahead! But you need to make sure they look decent.

Making them ridiculously buff isn’t making them decent!! It clashes with the motif and just makes them look jarring to look at it! You can have a character be strong, but this goes way overboard.

His concept art is a major improvement that I wish the other illustrations stick to.

This ends the first showcase, next time I post I’ll be going on about a character from the Danganronpa Kirigiri side of things!

#Danganronpa #Danganronpa Zero #DR0 #DR1 #Danganronpa 1 #isshiki madarai #the madarai bros #yuto kamishiro #ryoko otonashi #mukuro ikusaba #junko enoshima #makoto naegi #salvage showcase

38 notes · View notes

otherworldseekers · 8 months

Text

6.x msq thoughts

I've seen a lot of negativity about the 6.x msq series. So let me just say to begin with that I've really loved it. No, it's no ShB or even EW. It's not supposed to be. It's an interlude between stories (a filler arc one could say, but I would insist not in a negative sense) and as such it perfectly serves its purpose.

We'd dealt with the situation on the First. For balance, it was important to deal with the situation on the Thirteenth as well. A true resolution to the Ascian plot required we do something about it. Not to mention that the game has been trickling details about the Void throughout the story since the beginning of ARR (at least, I never played 1.0) and there are a lot of fans with a keen interest in it.

And the story was beautifully written to flow naturally from the themes of Endwalker. Not only did it give us some needed insight into the mind of Zenos through Zero but using Zenos' avatar to go on a journey from deepest despair to burgeoning hope makes Zenos' fate even more poignant.

Perhaps some might feel that the story of finding hope from despair to be repetitive after EW, but that wasn't my experience. Because EW is the journey of our WoL finding that light in the darkness, but 6.x was Zero's story. Personally, I adore Zero. She is both like and unlike my WoL. Severia also began her story from a place of despair and eventually found hope and happiness through the people who believe in her. But this time she gets to help someone else through that journey, someone completely void of hope. And I felt that it was a very positive and affirming experience for my WoL. And in general I think that the message that there is always hope even in the blackest darkness is one that can't be repeated too often.

Another thing that I think was extremely well done, was the consideration the story showed for the victims of trauma due to the game's story. This is something stories with large world-altering events often seem to overlook. That survival isn't the end. That the people who experienced the wars and the Final Days and other dramatic events have to live with not just the physical fallout, but the mental health repercussions as well. And the heroes can't just go around doing whatever they want without considering the ramifications on regular people and still be heroes. Obviously the game hasn't always been good at this. But these patches and the way they considered even the trauma of the Garlean survivors really gives me hope for the future storytelling of the game.

The worldbuilding done with the Void itself has been really fascinating as well. The realization that the cycle of life and death is completely broken there paints such an interesting picture. And of course allows us to get to know someone who was there thousands of years ago when the world fell to darkness. As usual, I could have done with 10 times the amount of information we got, but I realize they need to balance the story for people who aren't lore fanatics as well. I would love to know absolutely everything about the Contramemoria. In particular, the dungeon this patch gave us such a tantalizing view of what things were like back then. I really loved it.

About Golbez. I think that his arc was, overall, worth it. To be fair, I think it could have been paced better. It really only came to fruition in this patch, but I enjoyed the result. I will never not get emotional over stories of failed heroes. People who tried so hard and did everything right but still failed. It's different than Ardbert's because Ardbert never actually was a villain the way Golbez is. It may have been corny, but I really liked how Zero extended her hand in friendship and was able at last to convince Golbez to try again together. Golbez (Durante) went wrong when he lost his friend, his support. None of us can be our best selves without the support of people who believe in us. Friendship is magic and the older I get the more I like seeing stories where friendship changes people and makes the world better.

As for the implication that Golbez (the real one) was an Azem shard... I think it was purposefully left vague so that we can still interpret it how we want to. Durante sees Golbez in the WoL, but there could be other reasons for that. You don't have to make it canon for your OC.

I also think it's ok that we didn't save the Thirteenth during these patches. Zero and Golbez deserve the chance to right their failures and bring hope and light to the shard themselves. I really, really hope the story will check in on them in the future and we'll see the the Void become full of life again. But I wouldn't be surprised if it takes a long time.

Overall, I found the story to be both compelling and satisfying as an in between tale. Am I excited to move on to bigger things? Absolutely. But I have been entertained and Zero is a character I won't soon forget.

#Patch 6.5 #6.5 spoilers #Endwalker spoilers #msq thoughts

13 notes · View notes

darling-dovey · 27 days

Text

Summer Daisies

CHILD!AlastorxCHILD!reader

TW: racial tensions, lynching, abuse (mentioned)

Part 2

This series is the prologue of the Autumn Leaves series. Introducing Alastor and Adelaide to each other and following their relationship as it began when they were children. It’ll mostly be used for context and general imagines.

I still remember those Louisiana summers. The days were a sweltering heat, the air sticking to you uncomfortably, you always felt damp. Like a hot breath of air trapped in a bottle, fogging up the glass….But those Louisiana summer nights made living there worth it. The staggering Sun letting off enough to feel a smidge of relief, the breeze cooling you off slightly so you could enjoy the sounds the swamp or watch the fireflies play with the stars. Those nights felt like heaven, playing out in the marshy land with my siblings. Hoots and hollers heard across the yard.

But for others…. the heat only added to its likeness of hell.

“Children, inside!” My mother yelled. Standing quickly from her rocker. Dropping her book. I could see her eyes scanning the tree lines and I looked over my shoulder to try and see what had spooked her. A large hand wrapped around my arm no sooner than I saw some lights in the woods and I was yanked back.

I cried out in surprise until I saw the severe expression of my father. He shushed me before pulling me behind him back to the safety of the house. Once there he released my arm before storming inside, muttering to himself. I blinked back tears before looking at mama confused. “What-whats going on?” I asked her, rubbing my arm.

She looked at me sadly before ushering me inside to follow the rest of my siblings. “None of that darling…” she murmured softly.

I wouldn’t find out until years later that the lights I’d seen were likely a lynching party. Another colored or sympathetic soul to make an example of. For a child, there wasn’t an explanation for these atrocities, it was better to keep those actions hidden until they were old enough to understand. Pats on the head and firm words of “go to bed.” The only answer youthful, reddened cheeks got.

Just another day of hushed words and whispers traded, curiosity shining as your small ears listened. Conversations shifting if your blonde locks flashed in the doorway.

But…there were hints. Clues to those words. Hidden in actions or half said words. Mother pulling back my hair in a braid as we talked over children who would or wouldn’t be attending my school. Her sorrow over loosing a friend, still alive but separated by circumstance. Fathers drunken grumbles of a civil war which had claimed his brother. His own father, your pawpaw, declining after, the despair of losing a son breaking the proud man.

“Do not tell you father.” “Do not tell your mother about this.” Both voices echoing in your ears before they pushed you off to play again.

However, while children may be ignorant on the ways of the world. They unfortunately aren’t stupid. Telling them how something works will only make them question why, and in my idyllic youth, such questions weren’t tolerated. Subtlety got answers. Silence made them sing and soon enough you learned.

The 1900’s south, a war ravaged countryside, a pitiful reconstruction attempt, had chosen their favorite colors and like your school mates, cherished their own and ridiculed others. God used as an excuse to favor and consider one while conveniently ignoring and condemning another.

But like any other creature. A dog is still a good dog no matter the shade of its fur. The hard work or love a man had for his family no better or worse than another’s based on a tan.

Your blue eyes watched, analyzed a mother kissing her sons cheeks as she sent him off to school, and your own mind compared the same scene with your mother and brother. No discernible difference could be found, both mothers and sons living and loving naturally.

I was the worst thing my parents could ask for. Curious, too vocal for a girl. A sweet southern summer upended because their hushed whispers could not stifle my voice in church that Sunday. As I asked the revered preacher how God could love only half his children.

That night, I learned the truest lesson my father had ever taught me. Wounds don’t heal as quickly in sticky summer heats, the belt will fly true regardless of how much he drinks, and dreaming always results in waking up.

But even as the summer cooled off into the oncoming autumn, as my back healed as school approached. The pride shining in my mothers eyes never waned, but neither did her lips impart her wisdom.

You were wandering through the woods, the laughs and shouts of your siblings far behind you as you hiked your dress to crawl over another moss ridden log.

Your back ached, the lines of your punishment burning as sweat dripped down your back. But, you’d seen the group out here last night. Their flashlights looking like oversized fireflies last night bobbing through the trees. Just a little further you hoped, as you crept through the underbrush.

You yelp when you feel something wrap around your ankle, pitching forward as your feel it tighten and pull back until you’re dragged into a prickle bush. You open your mouth to scream when a hand slams over it. Muffling you.

“Hush. They’re still out there.” A voice said from behind you in the scratchy high pitched sound of a boy.

You snarl before biting down causing a small yelp to sound from behind you before you feel him smack you in the head.

His whisper angry as you finally turn and see him. His eyes angry, “Why did you do that?” He asked, holding his bleeding hand.

“I-“ his hand shoots to cover your mouth again and you’re about to bite when you hear it.

Footsteps approaching your hiding spot, causing both of you to hunker down, eyes wide as you watched them walk past slowly.

#human alastor #radio demon #alastor #alastor x reader

4 notes · View notes

bracketsoffear · 1 year

Note

Propaganda for Grimora because, as much as I like Harrow, I very firmly believe Grimora is the better End avatar here. I’d like to reiterate some points that are mentioned in her description (and also elaborate on some, as the description is a bit vague):

Not only does she have the motif of undead and is implied to be undead herself (in the beginning of the game, while her “mind” is stuck in the form of a bone-cost Stinkbug card, her resultant corpse is still able to move of its own accord, one of her arms “knocking” upon the safe to inform the player of her presence), but she also, quite literally, brings about the end of the game. As her fellow Scrybes sit around her, they are forced to watch the dissolution of their entire world at her hands as she begins the deletion of Inscryption’s files in front of their eyes, much to their horror (and her own relief, as she sits the player down to play one last game to, “celebrate the end of [her] very long life”).

During her time “alive”, she manages to bring about both the fear of death and the fear of something far, far worse (that being trapped in an infinite cycle of death without any reprieve). One of her underlings even bears the name of the late developer of the game (in-universe), her ghoul being one of the only remnants of her existence at all (the only other ones being a picture of her ID and a tarot card resembling her).

Additionally, she has a very heavy association with games, as the End often does. She is the Scrybe of the dead, her game is played with tokens made of bone and cards designed like tombstones, the game table is seated within a dark, dust-filled sepulcher, and the board of her game resembles a chessboard with pieces (similar to the tokens) made of bone. Her arms are folded across her abdomen as she plays, resembling the way a corpse’s hands are placed while buried, and she enjoys drawing out the game rather than bringing it to a swift end (the latter of which is a trait shared by her fellow Scrybes, but their games don’t take place in a literal crypt with bits of marrow spread out on the table).

However, the description provided to her leaves out one crucial detail (which is my own fault, I wrote the damn thing): as revealed in the original Inscryption ARG which reveals the game’s true ending, Grimora may still be alive (really not a fan of the ARG as a whole, but the true ending is relevant here). Despite her deletion of the game, the killing of P03, and the general attempts to scrub Inscryption from existence (culminating in the precautionary assassination of a YouTuber who might spread the word), there’s a good chance the Scrybes made it out—Grimora included. The full game was uploaded to the internet by one of the other Scrybes, effectively making all four of them continuing to relive their fate of life and death and death again.

Grimora’s goal was always to bring the whole game down, so the fact that part of her (may have) made it out is very reminiscent of Mag 64, wherein the avatar of the End in the tomb is so desperate to escape their fate but ultimately is to be sealed away and buried without any release other than the dust and corpses. (This manifestation is not listed as an avatar on the wiki, likely due to being unnamed, but seeing as Nathaniel Thorpe is listed as one, I’d wager that the mummy is considered one as well). If Mag 64 isn’t convincing enough, the situation is also largely reminiscent of Oliver Banks’s rise to Avatar-dom. Killing everyone after steering them to their doom, scarcely taking the time to explain what is happening (only that it needs to happen) and then realizing afterwards that they were still “alive” enough to continue bringing about death and despair of death to anyone who looks upon them and inadvertently trapping others around them in the same fate… seems familiar.

(Regarding the game’s true ending, the video link is here if you’re curious. Though warning for loud noises and, of course, Inscryption spoilers… though if you’ve read this far the game’s already been spoiled to hell. I still recommend playing it anyway though).

#character propaganda #asks #end poll

12 notes · View notes

clonewarslover55 · 2 years

Text

The Price of a Mile

Notes: Sabaton is a fantastic heavy metal band that sings about war to educate people.(They have a large youtube channel explaining all of their songs and it's GREAT! It's great for people who don’t like heavy metal and want to learn quick things!) Sabaton has actually taught me a lot about the many wars, battles, and fights that have plagued this planet over the short time the human race has been here. A lot of these songs make me think of the Clone Wars and the poor soldiers there! So I took one of their songs that breaks my heart every time I hear it, and made a fic out of it!

I also know that most Clone Wars warfare wasn’t trench warfare but I wrote it anyway!

I highly suggest you listen to The Price of a Mile by Sabaton and try many of their other songs! They are fantastic and heart wrenching.

Lyrics will be shown by either formatting or by ‘’

Warnings: This shit gets depressing. Battle details, gruesome here and there, mentions of death and blood. Its war, its ugly, gross, and sad.

The young clone sat in the trench, mud covered and soaked by rain and blood. He looked amongst his exhausted brothers, then glanced past them into the scarred fields. The fields of this world were once green and beautiful, now they are scarred and are nothing but mud and rain filled holes. Skeletons of destroyed houses and barns were scattered amongst the fields, dead livestock strewn about them. Bodies of clones and droids alike were everywhere as well, unmoving as the mud slowly sucked them into shallow wet graves.

Then it clicked for him. ‘What was the purpose of it all?’ The sun began to set as he gripped the arm of the brother closest to him. “We’ve been at this for weeks….We have hardly made any progress. Each foot we gain we lose hundreds of men. What is the price of a mile?”

The other clone looked at him, before he spoke a nearby shell exploded, covering them both in a fresh layer of mud and gore. He wiped the mud from his visor and sighed, “Thousands.” He spoke, his voice gruff and emotionless.

The young shiny just stared at him before turning to look past the trenches and into the no man's land, and past that, an army of droids. They had pushed them back some today, the remaining droids falling back so they could regroup when the Separatists dropped off more into the thick overgrown forests where they held their line.

‘And as the night falls the general calls

And the battle carries on and on

How long?

What is the purpose of it all

What's the price of a mile?’

When it was time to push forward his heart strings pulled at the mere sight of it all. Dead brothers, everywhere. They were nothing but pawns, tools of the Republic to win this petty war. Hot tears ran down his cold face, but he could hardly tell through the sweat and rain that mixed with it all.

They pushed forward though, their commander leading the way. His once colorful armor was now patches of white underneath layers and layers of crusted over mud and blood. Their Jedi was still nowhere to be seen, he would remain on cushy Coruscant until the hard work was completed and they got to the Sepratist base. He gritted his teeth and began the march with his brothers.

‘Thousands of feet march to the beat

It's an army on the march

Long way from home

Paying the price in young men's lives

Thousands of feet march to the beat

It's an army in despair

Knee-deep in mud

Stuck in the trench with no way out’

The mud as they marched sucked their feet in, making walking difficult. The mud was so bad the tanks couldn’t be moved yet, their feet trapped. Their mechanical feet were stuck just like thousands of brothers already. Underneath the cold mud, dead and finally at peace. The mud was getting so bad it was beginning to trap and drown men who walked on the more unlevel spots. The young clone believed some may even have done it on purpose, the exhaustion finally enough for some.

They continued on, stepping over destroyed and mangled droids. The rain was pelting them like bullets, the wind so harsh he couldn’t hear the commander over it. Luckily the comms in most of their helmets weren’t broken so some could still hear orders. He could hear, his helmet still new. His armor was no longer shiny though, it was already scarred and painted by mud, and he had only been on the battlefield for a month.

Once at the next set of trenches they dug back in, the fighting and death starting back up. The young clone felt like he had won nothing… but of course the knowledge of how much he hated this. War was nothing but bloodshed and pain to him, thousands dying for just mere feet of ground! It broke his heart, so many young men dead. And for what?

‘Still a deadlock at the front line

Where the soldiers die in mud

Roads and houses since long gone

Still no glory has been won

Know that many men has suffered

Know that many men has died

Six miles of ground has been won

Half a million men are gone

And as the men crawled the general called

And the killing carried on and on

How long?

What's the purpose of it all?

What's the price of a mile?’

After they gained the sixth mile the young clone was caught by droid laser fire, scarring his armor and heart even more. Would he make it through? Did he even want to? Exhaustion and hunger gripped him, digging in and bringing down his morale. As he stared up at the gray sky, the rain pelting his armor he sighed. He didn’t feel much, just a deep sadness as he grew colder, his blacks now fully dampened by blood and rain.

The young clone could finally rest now, the terrors of war would no longer haunt him. The nightmares were over now, for him. But for many others it raged on, and it would never stop.

‘Young men are dying

They pay the price

Oh how they suffer

So tell me what's the price of a mile

That's the price of a mile.’

End note: I actually enjoyed writing about a song like this! I would love to do more if anyone asked!

#clone wars #The Clone Wars #clone trooper #Clone Troopers #unnamed clone #unnamed soliders #unnamed clones #the price of a mile #Sabaton #war is hell

31 notes · View notes

magicalgirlagency · 5 months

Note

*English isn't my first language so forgive me for my weird and long ask*

Salve amicus! I've been following you for a while and:

Thank you so much for creating Wondaria and the WBMR! Ever since joining in the MG world, I've always wanted to created a MG story of my own. At first, as the idiotic teenager I was, the story was pretty much a gore-filled, angsty and edgy, full of despair concept. Then YuYuYu (which could've been so good if it weren't for the Fanservice and Ableism part) draw me to a more hopeful story idea - but it would still had had a bad ending. Then *BOOM* PRETTY CURE SAYS HELLO. Precure and MLP have tossed me from a grimdark writer to full pastel, friendship lover and dreamer. Idk if that make any sense But after changing my story overall theme, I ended up having no idea on what I should do next. Sure, the story should be hopeful and inspiring, but what exactly is its world like? How did my main character become Heroines? Why did they become the Heroines? Should I create an organisation of my own just to spite the Taisha existence??? Is my story idea too childish? Wondaria inspired me. It saved me from coming back to the old Grimdark Cave I made. Now, my story is doing very well and my ocs are just goofing around, being adorable with each others. Your analysis on edgy MGs and shonen give me a lot of insight into those gerne, they definitely helped me so much in the long run.

So... about the YuYuYu series...

I've read through all of your WBMR for the characters and general analysis on why it's ableist and stuff. But I realized that, for some reasons, the Taisha wasn't mentioned much. In fact, I only remember someone requesting Taisha for an incubator and you talking about it briefly on one of the Ableist YuYuYu post. As I have said in the first part, my story will include an organisation of my own. I have some general ideas on what it is:

It exists to spite the Taisha and the Pedophile Tree Gods Shinju-sama.

It will be through this organisation that my girls meet their Caretakers, Mentors and Guardians.

It would actually care about its Heroines (& Heroes) well-being and would do everything to protect them.

--> The opposite of the Taisha, I guess

This blog has been a reliable source of information and knowledge for me to build my fictional world so far. So, may I request an analysis on the Taisha, please? Looking around the Internet, all I could find about the Taisha is a tiny bit of info on TVTropes and the YuYuYu wiki. And that's bad, very bad. Because, incompetent as this Cult of The Shinju is, it was still a very large part of the Yuusha De Aru world. How come so little attention is paid to it??? Maybe I've look in enough places yet but since your blog is in reach, well... Asking for an analysis from the Magical Girl Agency itself seem like the correct option.

A Summary: thank you for creating Wondaria and please dissect the Taisha from YuYuYu

Firstly, many thanks for this gigantic heap of praises!

And secondly, I cannot make an analysis of the Taisha, because I'm not fully familiarized with the Yuuniverse (Yuusha Universe, for short); I've only watched the first season of YuYuYu, and then I quickly dropped out after the second episode (I was so disgusted at the amount of zoom-in on Tougo's breasts and butt throughout the battle) and went to the series' wiki to check any more information out.

All that I can about the Taisha, is that they are a cult. A cult that sacrifices people to some Gods who want their entire species dead.

2 notes · View notes

post-lds · 2 years

Text

Intro

(Read before you say anything stupid in asks especially)

I am entering my late 20s. i grew up mormon in utah. my parents were raised mormon by parents raised mormon, and most of my “heritage” goes back further than that, steeped in mormonism. i am the third child of ten, my mother also had nine siblings, and my dad has 5. I threw myself into the so-called “religion”, dedicated so much time and energy to my callings in the “church”, and spent hours on hours praying and reading mormon “scripture”. It has now been years since i attended any lds ceremony or ritual in good faith, but it sticks with you.

Do NOT come in here and tell me my faith was insufficient. do NOT come here and tell me i didn’t try hard enough. do NOT tell me i listened too readily to the whisperings of the devil, that i was persuaded too easily to the whims and temptations of the world. do NOT tell me i must have just wanted to sin

I will say you will never know how many nights i cried myself to sleep in prayer. you will never know how many talks and testimonies i bore with every shred of truth i could wholeheartedly swear. you will never know how many times i scoured the scriptures for answers to my questions, how studiously i took notes in class, sacrament, seminary, general conference, the lessons i strove to inscribe on my soul from testimonies and FHE, from girls’ camp and youth conference and fire sides and every other spiritual interaction i ever had. the guilt ate away at me for not feeling as guilty as i should, for even thinking that i could like girls, for doubting, for not “having enough faith”, for tainting my family’s immortal salvation, for decimating my own chance at the celestial kingdom. i wrote “worlds beyond number” on my arm for weeks in the hopes that the reminder would strengthen my resolve in my faith, but instead left me devastated that i would end up in the telestial kingdom if i was lucky, but more likely outer darkness for my deep seeded sinful ways. the root of my depression in high school was my faith crisis, and although yes i was unmedicated, i wasn’t in therapy, or otherwise addressing my mental health, the part that kept my depression going strong was the fear that i was doing everything All Wrong, because I didn't etch the gospel into every aspect of my life, every moment of every day. And that must have been why I felt so hopeless. Perpetual despair.

I began to truly Doubt™ right about a decade ago now, back when i moved from a charter school to a public school my sophomore year of highschool. i was introduced to a whole world of people who weren’t largely mormon, and many of them were intrinsically good without the “gospel” in their lives. i made more and more friends who weren’t mormon and they made me feel more welcomed than the ppl in my stake that went to the same school. I realized that mormon didn’t equivalate good, that the most entitled, self righteous, holier than thou pricks in school were mormon (rectangles and squares here). the things that were supposed to drench me in guilt - swearing, mentioning sex, exploring sexuality/gender, reading less-that-wholesome books, trying caffeine - they never scarred me the way i was always told they would. i tried every trick in the book and them some to see what argument reason would remind me of the One And Only Whole And Complete Truth. nothing took. the guilt and insecurities dragged me deeper into my pathetic self-loathing pity party. if i wasn’t happy, i must be sinning. right? so what was i doing so wrong that didn’t bring instant waves of guilt and shame that was keeping me so unhappy? why were my prayers and scripture huntings answered with silence? was i that unholy? that unworthy? so despised by capital g God Himself that i was unworthy of even a hint for why i was this way? there was no quiet comfort, no gentle reassurance, no uplifting encouragement that i just had to Move Along. i have never felt so violently lonely and alone as i did then. it left me vehemently aimless, directionless, void of any modicum of hope, it left me wide open for my abuser to swoop in and give me Purpose, building off the basis that the ends would always justify the means. also an exmo, he turned my need for approval into a tool of his own making, used my desperation to be loved against me, manipulated my idea of working hard for the benefit for my family in his favor. mormonism left me naïve and vulnerable and in need of direction, and he gave that to me, and i fell for it because i didn’t know better.

i was told from the earliest ages of life that my divine calling was to be a Mother Of Zion (there is so much wrong with that phrasing, and so many more racist and appropriative ideals that mormons have coopted as their own over the years, but that’s a different post). when i read Pictures Of Hollis Woods in middle school, i realized that adoption wasn’t just an option in general, it could be an option for me, a first option, too. yet i still struggle to shake the idea that my body isn’t a temple for me, it is a public temple for lease, a resource to share, that childbearing is less a privilege, but more a duty that is intrinsically tied to the fate of my immortal soul. i personally do not need to bear a biological child to raise. it is not a personal requirement for a fulfilling life. but it always sits in the back of my mind, that i should be so grateful for the Blessing of a likely very fertile uterus, that i should make use of it and Share My Bounty with both my spouse (who should be a cis man and rm) and the world. i know logically that it’s because that’s the most surefire way to introduce new tithe paying members into the world, but i still, still, STILL have this burning anxiety that it is Greedy of me to deprive a soul the use of my womb.

do not tell me i did not struggle

read A Marvelous Work And A Wonder, read The Miracle Of Forgiveness, read the CES Letter, read works by ex members, and if your faith is truly that strong, if the doctrine of the church is truly whole and pure, if the prophets and other priesthood leaders are truly so divinely inspired by God and the Holy Ghost, such criticisms won’t shake your belief. if god is the same yesterday, today, and forever, why do church leaders need so many revisionary revelations? if j smith was given the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, why are you not following his edicts today? if they aren’t so virtuous as to be relevant and applicable to today’s life, then your god is fallible, yes? if you can read those works (to start) and then honestly look me in the face, look anyone in the face and say with full confidence, hand to god, that you believe and support everything the lds faith stands for, then we can have an honest conversation. but at the very least, learn to analyze what you know to reiterate these "facts" in your own words, rather than regurgitate the same phrases parroted by thousands of members, as if quantity will give these ideas credence.

#long post #post lds #lds #exmo #exmormon

15 notes · View notes

a-student-out-of-time · 1 year

Note

This is has been mentioned before in quite a few of my reviews but I see Junko as Kodaka's attempt to make a traditional Disney villain-type character. Y'know the likes of Maleficent, Ursula and Cruella de Vil. Someone who is unapologetically evil and is oozing with character and charisma. They want to destroy/kill/main things just because they can. You can really see this in interviews where Kodaka RELISHES in the fact she's a Generic Doomsday Villain. (1/2)

//It's really also a matter of scale for me. It feels disproportionate for someone to be so invested in destroying the world, to devote so many resources to the goal and inflicting despair on everyone, and their motivation is largely just "Cuz I can."

//For a movie like The Strangers, where a group of masked murderers kill people just because they answered the door, it's scary because it's closer to home (heh) and there was no reason for it beyond "I can do it."

//I like that Junko was created with the goal of not giving her a tragic backstory to explain her evil, that she was just fucked up in some capacity, but the games don't really focus on that. They focus on her obnoxious personality, and if you don't find her funny or entertaining (which I don't) then it gets incredibly grating

//If she had more going for her, maybe it could've worked. If we focused more on, say, the nihilistic aspect of how her Ultimate Analyst power may have fucked up her sense of morality or the value she places on human life, maybe that could've been an explanation. Something more than just "despair is unpredictable, even though it's not."

//There's no one way to have made her work, but you're right that not having a backstory explanation in any capacity really makes her feel out of place among the world of DR

#mod talks #a student out of time

3 notes · View notes

sanerontheinside · 1 year

Text

I posted 2,120 times in 2022

That's 595 more posts than 2021!

150 posts created (7%)

1,970 posts reblogged (93%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@davaia

@wrennette

@firondoiel

@quiobizine

I tagged 2,119 of my posts in 2022

#beautiful things - 851 posts

#cue the queue - 687 posts

#art reblogs - 460 posts

#obi wan kenobi - 435 posts

#qui gon jinn - 266 posts

#quiobi - 238 posts

#cue the cuteness queue - 160 posts

#cue the fluffy queue - 148 posts

#kenobi show - 114 posts

#kenobi series - 111 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I sent 1 gift in 2022

My Top Posts in 2022:

how can I be expected to work under these conditions, while Obi-Wan is right there being sad and uncivilized

48 notes - Posted May 4, 2022

Chapters: 3/3 Fandom: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Padmé Amidala/Sabé, OMC/OMC, OMC/OFC Characters: Qui-Gon Jinn, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Padmé Amidala, Sabe, Original Characters

Additional Tags: Hanahaki Disease, various planetary traditions and hanahaki lore, Jedi Philosophy (Star Wars), Not Actually Unrequited Love, they're idiots your honor, Hurt/Comfort, Qui-Gon Jinn Lives

Summary:

Obi-Wan thought he was terribly obvious, really. Qui-Gon thought it was Obi-Wan’s secret to share or keep, as he wished.

My warmest and sincerest thanks to @davaia, @meggory84, @willowcrowned, and @oddlyexquisite for keeping me from going feral throughout the writing of this monster.

50 notes - Posted May 27, 2022

Look, Goncharov is an excellent movie. It has the sense of inevitability about it, of ever-encroaching tragedy. Its execution of both the suspense and the despair, the mounting fear of what you knew was coming all along—it’s staggering, the perfection of it.

But at the same time, this isn’t a Scorsese, not truly. It’s a Matteo JWHJ 0715. It is, in some ways, a little hamfisted in its execution, and I would argue the American audience is not wrong to analyze it in terms of very American themes. They are! Hollywood movies set the tone for much around the world, from fashion to storytelling in a media as globalized as film.

And as I’ve said, I do love this movie. I love it even for its anachronistic quirks—many of them deliberate and thought-through stylistic choices. I think the fact that goncharov’s primary activities are moving drugs and guns are one of these stylistic departures. Guns and drugs are easy to understand; goncharov is the bad guy, the antihero we’re meant to sympathize with. Certainly, he makes for a rather charming and impressive bastard.

But I think the movie, this particular script rather misses out on the poignancy of the alternative: that goncharov likely wasn’t dealing drugs and weapons, at least not at the beginning. Truth is, you could make an unimaginable amount of money just by smuggling ordinary European goods across the Iron Curtain.

Painfully ordinary. Shoes and coats and and dresses and suits, like all those pretty things that Katya wears. Turntables. Jeans! Plain old dishware. Sure, maybe eventually goncharov didn’t have much of a choice and got into the hard stuff

(this would actually serve the narrative—Goncharov stepping clear over his own lines in the sand, over and over again until he no longer recognizes who he is—perfection)

(anyway)

but you see, the Soviet Union didn’t have a whole variety in production, nor even necessarily great quality of it. There was no (legal) access to imported goods. I’ve already seen mention of the bootleg copy of the film that became a cult classic in the USSR itself (and probably inspired generations of bratva in years to come 🙄) but I wonder if it simply didn’t occur to anyone to consider that the Soviet bloc had largely isolated itself after WWII, and with a struggling economy, with creakily functioning infrastructure, did its best to achieve the impossible and pull itself ‘up by its bootstraps’.

So just think about it: almost every item that Katya owns is like those pretty gowns and crystal shoes in old fairytales; the moment she steps out of this magical realm—the moment the scales fall from her eyes—all of it will begin to melt away into nothing. She would never have had anything like it, were she not married to Goncharov. And he gave her the keys to this magical kingdom, didn’t he? Her Prince, who in the end is not a prince at all, not a fairytale. The illusion, the glamour falls away from him as well.

And then there is Sofia. Sofia, for whom all these clothes and shoes and jewels are very real. All right, sure—Sofia’s backstory tells us she lucked into this world, and in some sense it is also a sort of fairytale space for her. But the thing is, Katya’s grasp on it is far more tenuous. Sofia is nowhere near as richly dressed as Katya, but when everything goes to pot Sofia will still have something of her own, hard-won with sacrifice.

Katya will not. And how unfair is that: Katya is her own woman, she survives her husband’s world and makes her own way, only to be left with nothing if the worst should happen.

170 notes - Posted November 23, 2022

gonna get real personal here for a little bit, which is not what I tend to use this blog for, so y'all don't freak out and just ignore the bit of navel-gazing going on, nbd

183 notes - Posted August 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

my ideal ship dynamic is ‘They Deserve Each Other’

but like. they both suck

1,429 notes - Posted September 24, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #amazed to see a fic in there as a top post!#not surprised to find a gonchpost #vaguepost is unfortunate but the fact that the thing vagued at is still somehow a thing? fucked up.#excellent longest tag

6 notes · View notes

rcguish · 27 days

Text

general headcanon ;

i like to think a lot about what silver's been up to lately, especially since the GSC crew hasn't been around or mentioned in a single arc since HGSS. purely based on my own headcanons and having nothing to do with the actual canon of the manga, i'll be taking silver through a journey my silver would end up taking.

so for now, since the endings of HGSS he's been traveling around to pursue his goals in four ways: finding his father, finding information on his mother, continuing to improve his relationship with his pokemon and battling, and becoming a painter. the latter came last in recent years, inspired by a general feeling of disconnection from the world as well as every living being around him. it was desolation and despair that made him turn to something creative in nature, a break from the violence and turmoil. it was the first way he started calming down his temperament, a way he could largely come to terms with things that have happened to him and the prior choices that he's made.

he wants to find his father. he wants to end team rocket, first and foremost -- that is an eternal wish that has never gone away. he doesn't want to bring harm to giovanni deep down, but he wants to find him with all his heart. what he will do then, is the question he's been running away from for quite some time. this will be a post for later. the question of who he is and where he came from now resides in his mother and her mystery, and while leads on her are just as difficult as giovanni, silver can atleast name him. put a face to the name. feel a connection to the man that once saved his life. his mother matters a great deal of course, but that connection is lacking yet still.

relationships with his pokemon have always been rocky, moreso in the beginning. it's gotten leagues better in recent years as he's learned to see eye to eye with them, but it took work and it took much time. this will also be a separate post.

currently, silver is a part-time student at naranja academy, finding solace in the further pursuit of knowledge and skill. he resides in montenevera at this point in time, though is likely to keep moving around.

#headcanon.#trying to get a basis of his character again before i initiate any threads #i've been rotating silver in my head for years but i also havent written him in years

0 notes

carminite-wyrm · 2 years

Text

On Rituals and What Come Of Them

So when I said that my take on the Hermit Archives AU originally by @chrisrin was more 'slice of life comedy', that doesn't mean I can't uh, casually slap some more conventional angst and horror into that lovely little community of spookified hermits.

The Hermits, at the end of the day, are a community. They are a community that have grown and learned together, managed to attain that balance point in which their needs and wants can be met (as well as those of their patrons), and yet can still remain friends and allies despite some of their contrasting natures. Theirs is a community of avatars unlike any other. Well, a community of avatars and one man, but at this point, he fits in with their motley number well enough that some of them are actually considering whether he might also be a fellow avatar, if an incredibly lowkey one.

That isn’t to say they don’t have their competitions, of course.

Every now and again, the Hermits leave the land that they had called home for a time, and travel elsewhere, to newer, fresher shores. To new worlds, untouched by the ways in which their very presence warps and shapes that which they call their territory.

It is a major undertaking, this seasonal arrival and departure, leaving behind worlds forever marked, and does not happen lightly.

What heralds their departure from a world, of course, is the successful completion of a Ritual. Or a Ritual that fails so remarkably that it would be better to start anew. Usually, these Rituals (and their many, many attempts), begin to occur once the allure of a new, unexplored, and untainted land has worn off, and the myriad natures of each Hermit start to bay for more, more, more.

(No one mentions the lengths some of them go to, to ensure that their favourite human doesn’t die in the ensuing cataclysms, or gets lost in a way that none of them would be able to recover him from.)

Right here, however. Right now, in the middle of the Boatem region of the eighth world that the Hermits have decided to claim as their own, Mumbo K Jumbo would like it known that none of this is his fault. He thinks.

That one time he shoved Grian into a grinder for his soul (do Avatars of the Eye, touched by the End, even have conventional souls?) didn’t count as a Ritual, right? Mumbo really doesn’t want to be the first Hermit to accidentally complete a Ritual successfully, that’d be really, really awkward.

In fact, he’s fairly certain that it isn’t his fault, because he’s been trying to hold off on the Slaughter-energy this time around in a bit of an experiment, even though that’s had some…minor side effects…in that apparently this is the point in time when his old dabbling with the Flesh and the Corruption may or may not have come back to haunt him. But then again, he didn’t wind up a mostly-Slaughter avatar by virtue of not doing possibly mildly unethical experimentation for the sake of his ever-growing industrial designs, and well, when one’s main industry is farming, of the merciless exploitation and reshaping of the natural world variety…

Yeah, this probably isn’t his fault. He’s got no jurisdiction over gravity or space. That’s more a Vast thing, except that the only Vast-aligned Hermit he’s aware of being Vast-aligned is Scar, and Scar’s domain is strictly of the ‘falling-to-your-death-repeatedly’ flavour. Scar might ignore the demands of gravity, but gravity also has a habit of ignoring Scar’s demands too.

That still doesn’t explain the oversized moon hanging in the sky above them though. Or the lingering sense of doom, despair, and general ominous vibes.

“So…moon big?” Pearl comments, as she saunters over, eyes twinkling as she joins him to stare up at the oversized moon.

“Yeah, moon’s big.” Mumbo agrees, nodding slowly. “Kinda looks like it’s, y’know, staring back at you, when it’s hanging that large.”

“Really?” Pearl gives him a look, before turning her Gaze back to the night sky. There’s a distant shriek, and both Hermits shudder in wary anticipation, glancing around for the source of the phantom noise. “Huh.”

“I might just be imagining it, though. Haven’t really been sleeping, lately. Honestly been feeling a bit too uncomfortable to do so, what with the moon and all.”

Pearl gives him another Look, this one piercing enough that Mumbo finds himself awkwardly shuffling where he stands, hoping that Pearl won’t notice how dishevelled he is, how his form warps and morphs without the influence of the Slaughter that normally cloaks his every step with electric red dust. Honestly, maybe he should just go back to the standard methods of feeding his patron, even if the fear he causes with every brandished violet crystal is actually quite nice, it surely doesn’t matter when everyone is judging him for the vastly roundabout methods he’s also had to use-

“Yeah…maybe you might consider taking a nap then.” Pearl says, instead, snapping the weight of her attention off of his unkempt shoulders.

Mumbo blinks, before nodding slowly. “I…You might be right, yeah. I think I’ll uh, go and uh, do that.”

“Good.” Pearl smiles, and everything, for just a moment, seems a little less worrisome.

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

“So, Grian.”

“Yes, Pearl?”

“We uh…we may have a…minor problem.”

“Besides the moon?”

“Well, that is the problem. But not the whole of it, anyways.”

“It’s obviously a Ritual that’s either in progress, getting closer to completion, or gone completely off the rails. I’ve been trying to track down the source, because quite frankly none of us are wholly ready to jump across worlds this soon, but it hasn’t- my Observatory hasn’t found anything yet.”

“We’re not the only Watchers here, are we?”

“No…? Why’d you ask?”

“Can’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“Know what I See, Chronicler.”

“Pearl- oh. Oh.”

“Yeah.”

#the hermit archives #hermitcraft #hermitcraft au #hermitcraft fic #carminite writes #anyways its time for Ominous Big Moon Shenanigans #ft. the Boatem gang + associates #hmmm i wonder what Pearl might've been thinking of...>:D

36 notes · View notes

screamingatanemptyroom · 3 years

Text

Please Fix the Story pt 24 - Sci Fi

The battle with the Hive, and the traveler! Moving onto the end game after this. (Still will take a few parts, but the end is in sight!)

Masterpost linked here.

Enjoy!

_____________________________

The atmosphere in the conference room was tense.

“The numbers don’t look good.” General Gladus stared at the display with a frustrated sigh. “We just have the few Mechs stationed in the Fifteenth Sector. The Hive have a full colony… thousands of drones, directed by a Queen. They have already landed on the nearest moon, destroying the defense base there, and will be within striking distance of the planet in..." He rechecked his numbers. "Eighteen hours.”

Pointing his finger at the hologram, the display zoomed in on the larger dot surrounded by countless other smaller red dots. “The Queen is the key. She controls all the drones. If we take her out, we can halt the invasion long enough for true reinforcements to arrive.”

I nodded, trying to follow along. “So if we don’t have the numbers to defend the planet, we go on the attack and try to strike the Queen?”

“It can take a whole squadron to take out a Queen. “ He quickly put a damper on my excitement, frowning. “A normal Hive drone is the size of a human. She’s larger than two Mechs put together, around six stories tall, with armor to match.”

I thought about the story, what I knew about what technology was available years ahead… Hadn’t Chris gotten a special Mech to fight Queens? “What about a bigger Mech? Big enough to take on the Queen?”

The general paused at that. “The military engineers at the academy have been working on some prototypes… but the bigger a Mech is, the harder it is to control. In a few years we might have one that a single Guardian could operate, but the ones we have now? No one would have the capability…”

“I do.” I interrupted, speaking with certainty. “Let Liam and I try it.”

“Honey, I know you’re a Grade S Guardian, but…”

“I’m more than that. You remember that I almost destabilized? It was because of a sudden increase of my power” Because I’m not really your daughter. “I’m much more powerful than a grade S… “ I reached out and grabbed Liam’s hand. “And that’s not even to mention our 100% resonance match.”

Liam grinned, squeezing my hand. “Trust us, General. Alaira and I can fly anything they can build!”

The General stared at us, obviously unnerved at the idea of sending his daughter into the worst of the fighting. I reached out and grabbed his hand. “Trust me, Dad. I’ll make you proud.”

“…” He let out a long sigh. “I’m already more proud than I could ever be…” He rubbed his forehead. “Fine. Let’s see if you can work the thing… but if you can’t move it perfectly, then the plan gets canceled. I’m not sending you out there to die.”

“Thank you!” Awkwardly hugging him, I felt a twinge of guilt as he patted my back gently.

I wish your daughter could be here to feel your love and pride in her.

“Don’t celebrate too soon… Even if you’re big enough to take on a Queen, we still have to get you to her.”

I stepped closer to the display, studying it. “She’s directly in the center of the army… hiding away on the moon in the ruins of the defense base. With their numbers versus ours… we just don’t have the firepower to get there.”

Warning! Mission Failure Imminent!

As the blue writing and loud warning appeared only to me, I felt no fear, no terror at my imminent doom. It was now more annoying than anything else.

If you're not going to suggest anything helpful, then shut up!

Warning!...

SHUT UP! I screamed in my head, feeling a thread of shadowy power emerge from around me, erasing the words from existence.

The warning fell silent.

What… what was that? Some sort of magic? How much about myself is still hidden in my lost memories?

Enjoying the new silence in my head, I looked over at Liam who was staring at me with a worried look.

“Are you okay? You weren’t responding.”

I reached out, smoothing out his forehead, which was wrinkled with concern. “Yes. It’s difficult to explain, though. What did you say?”

“If we don’t have the troops to blast our way to the Queen, then what about a diversion?” He pointed at the area of the diagram between us and the Hive. “We act like we’re staging a frontal assault, and when they’ve deployed enough forces to weaken the rear, you and I strike from behind!”

The General nodded slowly. “It would take quite an attack to make the Hive divert forces to the front… Even if we threw everything we had and left nothing to protect you two, it might not be enough.”

I grinned. “Don’t worry about protecting us.” Grabbing Liam’s hand I added. “You forget who I matched with. We can handle our own defense. All that’s left is to figure out how to make a big enough distraction to give us a way in.”

“DID SOMEONE CALL FOR A DISTRACTION?!”

Princess Ilene pushed past the guards at the door with the two other girls in her group at her sides. “Sounds like a job for the Harem!”

Liam raised his eyebrow. Harem? He mouthed silently at me. I shook my head, not wanting to get involved.

Alaira’s father did not look impressed. “Princess. I don’t recall you showing any interest in military matters previously.”

“That’s before the Hive kidnapped Chris!” Ilene cracked her knuckles. “Now I gotta go crush some space bugs.”

Who says Chris was kidnapped?

“YEAH!" "We're going to save him!” The other two girls struck dramatic poses on either side of Ilene.

“…” The room stared at them in silence.

I pinched the bridge of my nose, wishing away my headache. “Princess, maybe this would work better if you explained to my father what skills you three brought to the table? “

“… I suppose.” She sniffed, gesturing at Wen grandly. “She has designed a Mech with the ability to tow 50 mini cannons.”

Wen grinned, explaining further. “The guns are strapped to a small engine, and will fly at evenly spaced intervals behind the controlling Mech. It’s still a work in progress… You can’t target, and you can’t control them individually… at least not yet.”

“But that’s still 50 extra shots for one Mech.” General Gladus looked much more interested. “How many have you made?”

“Just one, but if I add a small hologram projector to the guns, it will look like we have 50 fully operational Mechs with us! THAT should get the Hive’s attention.”

Ilene and Allie chimed in. “ We’ve already practiced piloting the Mech and can operate it smoothly.”

“… That… might just work…” He shrugged. “Strong work, Ladies…”

“We call ourselves the Harem… Alaira came up with the name!”

“Don’t credit me, please..”

The General glanced at my cringing expression and chuckled. “…Glad to have you aboard… I think.”

“All right!” The young engineer high-fived her companions, grinning proudly. “I was originally saving this invention for Chris, but now I’m going to use this to SAVE Chris!”

“YEAH!”

“…” The General was now staring at me with a look of consternation, to which I raised my hands helplessly. “…Sure.”

“So that’s the plan then.” I took a deep breath, calming the fast beating of my heart at the thought of the fight to come. “The Harem will distract the Hive, and Liam and I will take out the Queen.”

We’ll save the world.

We’ll complete my mission.

It will work… it has to.

“We’ll strike first thing in the morning.” General Gladus watched me with a worried gaze, but obviously held back from speaking further. “… Good luck.”

_____________________________

Liam and I tested out the massive Mech prototype called the “Queen Killer,” able to move it with an ease that shocked Alaira’s father and the engineers. After confirming the plan a final time, I returned back to my dorm to get some rest before the battle.

I found myself too keyed up to sleep, staring blankly at the ceiling. If we complete the mission, will I get all my memories back? Will I stay in this world or be forced to leave? Will Liam stay with me? My frantic thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on my door.

Wary, I checked the security system, quickly opening the door once I realized who it was.

“Liam, what are you doing here? It’s still a few hours before we’re supposed to meet for the mission.”

Liam wrung his hands together, staring at the floor quietly. “I… was hoping…”

“What is it?”

“Can you come with me?”

At my nod he grabbed my hand and pulled me along. I started to ask where he was taking me, but seeing the determination on his face, fell silent. I didn’t feel any wariness, despite my lack of knowledge of our direction.

_____________________________

“Aren’t you scared?” A voice asked, coming from high above me.

“No.”

“Why not?” The despair in the voice was heartbreaking. “Everyone else is.”

“Because it’s you.” I grinned. “Can’t be scared of you, Liam.”

_____________________________

I blinked, my gaze once again resting on our clasped hands.

I’ll keep trusting you Liam.

He took me to the upper deck of the academy, a large platform surrounded by multiple gardens. In the dead of night, the multicolored flowers and trees were barely visible. Rather than a clear sight, it was a combination of the senses: of impressions of movement, of gentle sounds of the wind swaying the branches and leaves, of brief flashes of colors in the light of the multiple candles that lit up the platform.

In the center of the platform stood a minister, the elderly man looking tired but still smiling gently. Off to the side were the Harem girls, watching silently, and Alaira’s father who stood by with a combination of tears and joy.

The King and Queen were nowhere to be seen.

“This.is…” My voice trailed off, filled with awe at the sheer amount of work it must have taken to move everything up here from the ballroom we had planned it in.

Liam knelt down, holding my hand with a solemn look.

“Alaira... I don’t know if we’re going to survive this battle, but I know one thing: If I’m going to die tomorrow, I want it to be as your husband.”

His hands were shaking with nervousness as they held my own.

“Please marry me.” His words were simple, but they struck my heart with a force that made me sway on my feet.

_____________________________

“Please marry me.” A trembling man held me close.

_____________________________

I smiled at the thought that I had answered this question before. “Yes.”

Liam let out a sigh of relief, standing up and hugging me gently. “Thank you…” He hesitated. “Bel.” The name was spoken only for me to hear, sounding like a prayer.

“You realize we had already planned to get married today?” I chuckled. “You didn’t have to re-propose.”

“I needed to hear it again.”

With a wide grin, he led me over to the center of the platform. There, in front of friends and family, the minister led us through the vows. As I spoke the words, holding Liam’s hands tightly, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had done this multiple times before.

How many lifetimes have I already spent with him? How many times have we been married?

Liam leaned in to kiss me, the gentle movement the barest touch on my lips, and then hugged me tightly against him.

“I love you.” He whispered in my ear.

My father stepped forward and clapped us both on the shoulder. “Alright, kids, that’s enough excitement pre-battle. Go get some sleep. I’ll throw you a combination victory party and wedding reception once we survive the Hive.”

Laughing, Liam and I left the party behind. We were unable to sleep, and simply laid in each other’s arms. My head rested against his chest, hearing his heartbeat and breaths. Closing my eyes, I prayed that we would make it though this battle safely.

And just maybe, if we survive this, I’ll figure out how to get our memories back.

I thought of the shadowy power I had displayed to shut the system warning down, an ability I had tried to repeat without success several times since. I don’t know who or what I am… but I do know one thing:

I won’t accept my fate.

_____________________________

Soon it was time for the battle.

Liam and I boarded the Queen Killer Mech and flew it around the battle site, staying out of range of the Hive’s sensors. We floated in Space watching the holographic display from the Mech's communication system as the Harem and the few soldiers Alaira’s father had brought with him advanced from the front. It looked as if there were over a hundred Mechs, an intimidating site, but we knew it was just an illusion, holograms attached to remote guns. Their actual numbers were quite pitiful compared to the army in front of them.

We could only hope the Hive would fall for the trick.

“Advance!” The General’s voice came over the intercom. I felt myself tremble with nervousness at his serious tone. I wasn’t really his daughter. Most of the time I felt like the worst fraud when I was with him. But I genuinely cared for this gruff, strange man. He loved his daughter, and wasn’t afraid to take on the world to protect her.

I hope he makes it. I felt a sharp pain in my stomach at the thought that he might not.

But if we don’t fight, none of us will.

The army of Mechs, both real and fake, moved forward. As the Hive flew to meet them, I got a close look at them through my headset. I had seen their appearance in Alaira’s memories, but somehow, seeing them with my own eyes was all the more horrifying.

Large insects, each the size of a human, with a black and red exoskeleton that coated everything, even the wings. Enormous pincers grew outwards on their heads, sharp enough to tear a Mech open, to cut a human in half. Their dark, multifaceted eyes took in the space emotionlessly. They were unstoppable, insatiable. The Hive’s only goal was to devour, to destroy. They numbered in the thousands; enough to make even seeing the moon the Queen was hiding on difficult.

I felt a deep feeling of terror growing within me, fear and despair mixing, threatening to take away my reason.

It’s not my emotions.I tried to push down the feeling, but they continued to grow, trying to overwhelm me. It’s Alaira’s.

She had died there, next to that moon, surrounded by the Hive. Their pincers destroyed her Mech, pulled her out from the safety of the piloting sphere. She was overwhelmed, and even with the fracturing of her mind she knew she was doomed.

“Are you okay?” Liam’s voice in my ear calmed me down. “Your strong emotions are interfering with the Connection.” I took a deep breath, repeating silently.

You are not Alaira. You are not Alaira.

I knew exactly what it would feel like to die in battle with the Hive, though.

The Hive started swarming to the front, line. The Queen was directing them to defend her against the “larger” threat. There were only a few hundred left to guard the rear.

“It’s working!” General Gladus’ excited voice sounded out. “They’re falling for it.”

“Then we’ll get to work.”

“… Good luck, Alaira. I love you.”

I hesitated. “… I love you too… Father.”

It was time. I grabbed Liam’s hand, squeezing it tightly.

“Focus on your shield.”

He took a deep breath. “You know I can’t control it.”

“You can let me in, Liam. You are in control. Use it for its purpose: to protect yourself. To protect me.”

He closed his eyes, positioning himself behind me within the Connection chamber in the Mech. His hands were on my back, and through the physical touch I felt his nervousness. The air around the Mech seemed to shift, and I knew that I had to act quickly before the mental shield weakened.

I flew the Mech forward, quickly reaching the highest speed. At the noise of our passing one of the drones turned to face us. Soon they had swarmed around us, their pincers opened to attack.

FEAR.

Alaira’s emotions were running full force, but I pushed them down once more, going faster. I could feel Liam behind me, keeping the connection between me and the Mech easy despite its enormous size. We flew into the swarm, and the sturdy alien insects splattered against the mental shield, which held firm under the blows.

Liam and I sighed with relief.

“See? You CAN control it!”

“We still have the Queen to deal with.” Liam’s voice was worried, I could feel his concern though our connection. “She’s a little big to be squished by a shield.”

“Well that’s why we brought the big guns.” After a few more moments we broke through the Hive’s line of defense, and landed on the Moon, trying to locate the Queen.

“Where is she?” The scanners were starting to scramble, as if interrupted by an unknown signal. The Hive shouldn’t have that kind of technology, though.

“I don't see her on the Moon's surface. Has she left? First, let’s try the defense fort. It should be big enough to hide the Queen.” At Liam’s suggestion we flew forward, making our way to the building. The clear defense dome seemed intact, the computers opening an airlock, allowing us to pass forward after communicating with our Mech and confirming our identity.

“How would the Queen be here without destroying the dome?” I muttered, trying to scan the surroundings and noting that it was picking up several lifeforms, even if it was still too scrambled to give a clear location.

“ I don’t know, but I don��t think that hole was there before.” Liam tapped my back, and I looked towards the Hanger, the largest building in the complex. A six story hole had been torn out of the front wall. Wary, I moved the Mech closer, ducking down and entering the main area, which was fortunately tall enough to accommodate our oversized Mech.

The area was mostly lit up, a few of the florescent lights sparking and flickering from recent damage. The few Mechs that had remained had been torn to shreds and tossed in a pile. The space was wide-open, extending outwards into shadows.

“What the…?” My voice trailed off in shock as I stared at the unbelievable sight in front of me.

In the center of the hanger stood the Queen. She was bright white with red and black markings along the side of her rotund torso. She brandished hundreds of spiky claws like a millipede, with large bright red wings extended behind her. Towards the top she sported multiple large pincers, with a final one extending from her head. Her eyes glowed with a bright white light, staring at us with fury.

She was frozen into place, unable to make a single movement.

“What is going on?” I whispered to Liam.

“Bel, you actually made it this far!”

A cheerful voice rang out, causing both of us to groan with frustration. A Mech emerged from the shadows, we couldn’t see the pilot, but Liam and I knew who it was and spoke his name together.

“Chris.”

“I keep telling you, it’s not Chris.” The voice coming from the Mech seemed annoyed, the large robot swinging a sword back and forth. “As always, you two are wrong.”

“What are you doing here?” I asked, clenching my fists at my side within the Connection Chamber of our Mech.

“Exactly what I told you, Bel: I’m ending this.” He lifted up his Mech’s free hand, and in it was a large bomb blinking with a bright red light. A single red button marked the trigger, and I tensed up as he caressed it lightly with a large metallic finger.

“That’s a uninite bomb.” Liam spoke up. “You’d destroy the moon with one that big! You'll kill us all with the Queen!”

“Exactly! I’m willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to save everyone. Not like you… monster.” He spit out the last word, his voice filled with hatred. “I’m the HERO. I’m the one who everyone cares about. I’m the one SHE SHOULD LOVE!”

“Oh, SHUT UP!” I activated the opening on our Mech, and slid down a cord to the ground, pulling off my helmet to reveal my face. The air inside the defense shield was slightly stale but breathable.

Liam was startled, jumping down to stand beside me. “Bel, wait!”

“It’s okay.” I grinned at him. “Trust me.” The Mech straightened up behind us, falling into a standby position. I looked up at the Mech controlled by the Pseudo-Chris.

“If you’re going to threaten me and insult my husband, then do it to my face.”

“Nice try. If I leave the Mech, I can’t control it. All you’ve managed to do is to give away your only advantage!” He laughed confidently. “I am in control, Bel. The Hive, the Queen… all of it! I’m the only one who can save your soul from destruction.”

“You brought the Hive here… you’re the one who advanced the story so quickly.” I paused, thinking it over. “How come you can go against the story? I always get warnings whenever we stray too far away from our characters.”

“You don’t understand. You never have. All that matters is that the roles are obeyed, that we follow our fate. I may have taken a… detour… but in the end I will fulfill my role as a hero, and save everyone, at the cost of my own life.”

“Why are you doing this?” Liam growled, standing close to me.

“He was hoping that I would give up.” I answered for him calmly, staring up at the Mech with a disgusted expression, “He made a seemingly impossible situation, hoping I would see accepting my fate as my only option.”

I thought of the system's warning that I had no chance of survival. They had tried to manipulate me. Tried to force me to do what they wanted.

But I hadn't.

“You see things so clearly sometimes, Bel.” Chris’ voice showed his approval. “And even though it didn’t work, I can still just end things here. I’ll destroy the Queen, which will complete your mission. The system can erase your memory again and we’ll start over.”

I felt a sense of fear at his words. How many times has this already happened?

“No matter how many times we have to do this, there will only be one outcome in the end: you will accept your fate.”

_____________________________

“You will accept your fate, Bel.” The young handsome man stared at me with disappointment. “You can’t keep hiding with this monster forever.”

“He's not a monster. Besides, you’re the one who sent me to Liam.” I grinned. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“It was temporary. You were supposed to be his prisoner.” He snapped. “Now, because of you, he’ll be the first to be destroyed. You can’t distort the higher realm. Everything depends on it.”

“It’s not right…”

“It’s the reality of our roles. Now enough stalling. What will you choose? Will you follow the rules, or will you let everything be destroyed to protect your precious independence?”

“No…”

“Even you can’t be that selfish.” He growled, reaching out to grab my arm painfully. “Accept your fate, Bel.

“NO!”

_____________________________

“NO!” I shook my head, clearing aside the memory. “No matter how many times you ask me. No matter how many worlds you drag me through. No matter how many times my memory is wiped. I WILL NOT ACCEPT IT!”

“Fine. Then it’s time to move to the next world…” His Mech raised its hand holding the bomb.

“You’re pathetic.” My words were quiet, but seemed to echo in the otherwise silent hanger. “Even when we were in the higher realm you were always trying to trick and scheme to get things to go the way you wanted. You thought by forcing me to Liam’s side as his ‘prisoner’ you could force me to accept my fate, but that backfired too, didn’t it?”

“… “ There was a long stunned silence.

“You… you remember?” The Mech’s head shook back and forth in a jerky movement. “No, your memories were wiped!”

I quickly thought through the few memories I had experienced over the last few weeks. “You wanted me to play my part… but I didn’t want to be in a romantic relationship with you. I would solve things my own way, which pissed you off.”

“YOU… NO! YOUR MEMORIES ARE GONE!” The whole Mech was shaking slightly.

“No matter the realm, no matter the roles we play, one thing remains constant: you’re a pathetic loser.” I smiled. “And I like Liam more than you.”

“HE’S A MONSTER! YOU CAN’T LOVE HIM! YOU HAVE TO LOVE ME!”

“Bel…” Liam whispered. “You realize you’re making the unstable man with the bomb angry, right?”

“Trust me, I have a plan… probably.”

“Oh, good.”

I looked up at the Mech, raising my voice. “I’ll never love you!”

“YOU HAVE TO!”

“Get used to disappointment, loser.”

The Mech was shaking more violently as he whispered hoarsely. “Y-you’re lying… you have to be. You don’t have your memories…”

I AM lying. “Too bad for you I’m telling the truth. I remember everything important.”

“…Then what’s my name?”

I spread my hands out helplessly. “Oh buddy, I just said I remembered everything IMPORTANT.” I leaned forward. “You were never important to me. You still aren’t.”

“SHUT UP! SHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUPSHUTUP!” The Mech was rocking back and forth with his screams and then suddenly became very still.

“Got him!” I pumped my fist in the air victoriously.

“What’s… what’s happening?! I can’t control my Mech!”

I chuckled at his panicked tone.

“You see, there’s a difference between you and me. You might be the hero, but I’m the one with greater than Level S Guardian abilities. In fact, you used that very trait of mine to try to force me to partner with you. It was a burden before I formed a Connection with Liam, but now?” I reached over and grabbed Liam’s hand. “It makes things really easy. One of the skills I’ve practiced was controlling Mechs from a distance.”

“That’s…”

“Impossible? Only if you’re weak. The distance makes things challenging but it’s still fairly simple for me.” I paused. “By the way, I WAS lying earlier. I needed you to have strong emotions to disrupt your Connection with your Mech so I could take it over.”

“…” Enjoying his stunned silence, I gestured, controlling the “Queen Killer” Mech to step forward.

“Now I could let you blow yourself up and kill the Queen to complete the mission, but unlike you, I don’t feel any satisfaction out of sacrificing myself or others needlessly. I’m also not going to let you die, because I have a feeling that could have negative effects on this world.”

The Queen started moving, whatever restraints the pseudo-Chris had placed on it obviously released. I could feel her anger at being obstructed in her mission. Her overwhelming need to consume life and move on drove her constantly, and even the briefest of pauses enraged her. Her hungry eyes focused on me, sensing a threat.

I released all my abilities to the limit, feeling a light throbbing headache at controlling two Mechs at once, and one of them being the large Queen Killer.

“It’s time for this story to end.” I whispered, feeling satisfaction as the giant robot pulled out a sword and brandished it.

“My mission will be completed.” The sword tore a huge rent in the Queen’s side, spilling green blood. The insect queen screamed in rage and pain, her pincers tearing off some of the armor on the Mech’s arm.

“The world will be saved.” A second strike hit, cutting off several claws. The Queen clamped onto the Mechs’ chest with her mandibles, trying to burrow into the center. I was glad I wasn’t in the suspension gel, feeling the pain of the attack.

“And it will all be done without you.” My Mech swung the sword downward, and the Queen’s head separated from its body. It still clamped onto the chest of the robot, its eyes’ light slowly fading away.

“NOOOO!” Pseudo Chris screamed out, but it was too late. The Queen was dead. Her army would become useless.

The world was safe.

A beautiful chime rang out, and bright blue words formed into the air.

Congratulations!

Mission 100% complete.

**** You have finished the mission! ****

Stay in this world?

YES/NO

“It doesn’t matter if you completed the mission or I did. I still have the next world, and the next and the next!” The Mech was still frozen into place, but it didn’t stop his angry words. “Time is on my side!”

I sighed. “No. It’s not.” As I had completed the mission, I felt a strange surge of power. A similar sensation to when I had stopped the system voice from speaking earlier. I focused carefully, and a shadowy power poured out in the world around me, much stronger than before.

“Bel?” At Liam’s worried question, I turned and smiled at him.

“Don’t worry, Liam. It’s just time to change the game.” He grabbed my hands and nodded silently at my words, supporting me.

I turned my attention to the System’s message.

“We will not stay in this world any longer.” The shadowy power around me increased.

…

WORLD TRANSFER FAILED. UNKNOWN INTERFERENCE.

“Oh, that’s just me. You see… this world’s victory was all I needed to finish piecing together my soul.”

…

“I really do remember everything now.”

And I did. Who I was. Why I had made the deal I had made.

“I fixed every world you sent me to. Without memories. Without my protected status as the heroine. Just a hated side character or villain. Admit it… I won.”

… NOT YET.

“You’re right. There’s still one last story to be fixed.” I grinned at Liam, leaning forward to kiss him on the cheek. “The Higher Realm.”

Our world.

YOU MUST ACCEPT…

“I must do nothing.” The dark power that surrounded me erased the blue words in the air before they could form that hated sentence. “YOU must transfer us back. Back to the beginning.”

…

“Do it.” I gave no room for argument.

…

WORLD TRANSFER INITIATED. LOCATION: THE HIGHER REALM.

“I love you Liam.�� I hugged him tightly. “Let’s get married one last time.”

“I love you too… But what do you…?”

TRANSFER COMPLETE.

#writing #please fix the story #writeblr #sci fi #violence #memory loss #the end is near

188 notes · View notes