#quit pitting attention starved children against each other | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mydisasteracademia · 3 years

Text

Random Shigaraki Headcanons

This boi. This grubby boi. I love him so much but at the same time he would probably literally dust me so... (oof this one kinda dragged on and on... lol)

Literally has no idea about real-life relationship dynamics outside of what he’s observed in his own parents, in Sensei, and in Kurogiri. All he thinks in the beginning is that people who claim to love you will stand by and let you be hurt, that villains took care of him better than any damn hero, and that he can only truly rely on himself. (And Sensei.)

It takes a loooooooong time of interacting with other people to break himself out of this mindset, and even then, sometimes it comes creeping back if bad things happen.

Getting into canon territory with this one, but really, really, reeeeeeeeally hates heroes because they didn’t even bother to help him when he was going through a whole mental breakdown. Literally one of the only reasons he hates them so much. I know this is pretty much canon, but I doubt he would ever grasp Stain’s ideology of ‘maybe some are good’ because in his eyes, not even the underground pro heroes even bothered to see if he was okay. Remember the scene from the manga with the old lady when he was a child? Yeah. There were bound to be heroes he bumped into, even off-duty ones, and nobody even gave him another glance.

Has extremely bad abandonment issues. If he likes you, he’s gonna want to keep you because he didn’t really have anything nice to call his own while growing up, and Sensei kept him fairly isolated so he literally tolerates nobody else other than him and Kurogiri at first. Reacts horribly when his friends want to break off the friendship. Goes through a whole depressive episode for a while, his old insecurities pop back up, and he really thinks he’s worse than trash and not worth anyone’s time or attention for a while. Prime time for Sensei to further twist his mind.

On that same note, if you’re dating, for the love of everything still good in this world do not break his heart. He will never forgive you. Literally will go to the grave before he forgives you for doing what you did (whether it be cheating on him or completely dropping him like a hot potato). Although this might also extend to little issues that make him feel like you don’t love him enough, he’ll forgive you if you show him plenty of attention and apologize for whatever he was upset over. If you cannot remain patient through his toxic mindsets, it’s best not to get into a relationship in the first place with him if you want to still remain friends afterward, because breaking it off means instant heartbreak.

Anyway! Back to happier, funnier hcs!!

The whole embodiment of the “Wears black in summer because I look good and am willing to suffer” vine. Will not give up his comfy black shirt and sweats for anything because yes, he does look good in black, and yes, he is willing to suffer. He’ll switch to a v-neck tee though. Even he’s not that masochistic.

Really prone to dry skin. I know that’s canon, but just... this poor man can’t keep moisturized to save his own life. Constantly has to apply a special moisturizer that’s specifically made for ultra-sensitive skin and has no scents whatsoever.

Will gripe about having to spend so much money on ointment and moisturizer for both him and Dabi. It’s one of the very few things they bond over, other than having a shitty father and pushover family... and their hatred of All Might.

Shigaraki 100% would be Dabi’s alibi if he actually managed to kill Endeavor. When it comes to the shitty dad club, he’s a fuckin’ ride-or-die.

Kinda sensitive over the fact that both he and Midoriya have the same sort of red shoes, but he loves his pair too much to throw them out. Purposefully aims for Midoriya’s shoes every single time they meet each other on the off chance that they get ruined enough for him to get different shoes, unknowing that he literally can’t just... get differently-colored shoes due to him being originally Quirkless (yes, The Shoes™ theory strikes again)

Literally never forgets a single thing about people he cares about. He’s the type of person who will remember every single thing you tell him about yourself, and especially birthdays. While he doesn’t exactly show his affection very loudly, he would be the type of person who tell you “happy birthday” on the day of as soon as he first sees you, and would treat you a little nicer all day that day.

This boy just has the biggest, scarred heart for his ‘good crowd’. I cannot stress enough just how much like Midoriya he could’ve turned out if he hadn’t been abandoned by society. This mf would give the green bean a run for his motherfuckin money.

“I really just hate the world and everything in it... except for you, maybe I could make an exception for you because you’re nice to me and I appreciate your company too much”

Even though I hc quite a few League members to be like cats when it comes to affection, Shigaraki’s spirit animal is a cat. Likes to lounge about in off-moments, slow to affection and very quick to remember exactly how people treat him, yet if he likes you he shows affection quietly enough that it’s not obvious at first. Like “oh, you’re in the same room as me. It’s not like I missed you or anything, me sitting right next to you at the bar when it’s totally empty means nothing. The fact that I’m looking right at you when you’re talking doesn’t mean I like you.”

LOVES HUGS. If you hug him and he likes you, you’ve probably made his whole day. Depending on how things are going, probably his whole fucking week. Just please hug him, he needs positive affection so bad

Major tsun-tsun. The most tsun-tsun. Grumpy until you get to know him, and if he likes you he’ll show you in little ways: listening to your ideas more, letting you stay closer for longer, maybe getting you something like food.

AFRAID OF TOUCH. I REPEAT, AFRAID OF TOUCH. Not from anyone he likes, of course; this baby is so touch-starved that he deserves a thousand hugs. But if he likes you, he will not initiate physical affection because he’s so afraid of accidentally dusting you. The memories of his family dying (except for his father, because #FuckKotaro2k21) haunt him almost every time he dreams (and if that doesn’t, then other traumatizing events certainly do), and he absolutely would not forgive himself if he dusted his favorite League member/civilian.

Definitely likens the rest of the League to his MVPs after a while of knowing them. Knowing how he operates, it’s adorable.

Would begrudgingly let Toga play around with his hair. I can just see him sitting blank-faced, staring at the mirror as she talks about whatever while brushing and braiding it into a cute plait. He would be hesitant to undo her hard work afterward, no matter how much he grouches that it “ruins his boss vibe”.

The kind of person to go to McDonalds at 3 AM just because he was craving chicken nuggets and ranch. Yes, ranch. He’s an old-school mf who don’t got no time for no barbecue.

Gets really irritated over Toga mooning over Uraraka and Midoriya, but doesn’t stop her from talking about how much she wants to ‘be’ them. (Encourages homicide. Advises homicide. Spinner has to stop her from actually getting ready to commit homicide.)

Disgruntled™

G L O A T S about the time he took away Overhaul’s chance to use his Quirk. “Yeah, we would’ve been satisfied with Compress taking his left arm away to be petty, but then Overhaul had to be a sentient piece of dick cheese, and well, y’know I couldn’t let him get away with that”

It’s becoming a problem. The others have learnt to tune him out once he gets going. Compress just smiles under the mask when he remembers it. Nobody knows what he’s really thinking.

His damn crowning moment. His apex point. There’s no going further beyond that (until he finally defeats Midoriya and takes over Japan as the world’s most feared villain of all time).

“Shigaraki, I’mma let you finish, but AFO still holds the record for being the most infamous villain of all time! Of all time!” <-- let the boy dream okay, he’s been waiting for this moment his whole damn life

Can you tell that I’m still horribly salty over Overhaul being an ass? Because I’m still horribly salty over Overhaul being an ass

Chronic emo phase. Hears the G note and just sighs heavily

Has probably seen hentai. Doesn’t really get the appeal of high-pitched feminine screams. Probably more of a tiddy man than an ass man. Just... boobie

His first fictional crush was Aeris/Aerith. Legitimately lost his shit when she died.

Man Crush Monday is Sephiroth all the way. Especially his one-winged angel form. Wanted to cosplay him for Halloween but didn’t because the cosplay was too costly.

Will make “That’s what she said” jokes in the most deadpan voice. At least Mustard kinda snickers at them.

Probably would’ve been pretty patient with Eri. Her traumatic past certainly would’ve pitted her as a kindred spirit with him, and he would think her Quirk would be a powerful asset if used right. Probably would’ve practiced it by destroying something and then telling her to rewind it so that he can break it again.

Shigaraki, holding Eri by her armpits: “I’ve only had her for ten minutes but if anything happened to her I’d dust everyone in the room to make her feel better”

The rest of the League: “???????? Okay?????”

Legitimately holds a powerful grudge against parents who abuse or neglect their children, especially against abusive fathers. Almost as powerful as his hatred for All Might. Will actively go after someone he sees is abusive to their children and will not let them live.

Would probably adopt an orphan after killing their abusive parents. “Oh, that was your dad/mom/parent? Well guess you’re mine now. Let’s go get chicken nuggets, kid”

Might somehow rope Dabi into going abusive-parent-hunting with him during a raid. Takes great pleasure in seeing the guilty party’s horrified, pained look on their face as they slowly dissolve into a pile of ash.

#shigaraki headcanons

46 notes · View notes

fizzingwizard · 4 years

Text

Episode 6 was AWESOME. Finally it really and truly felt like Digimon Adventure!!

This episode plus the last one makes me eat my words of despair over the blandness of episode 4. I’m counting that one as just a miss. I’m hoping that it doesn’t bode for the tone they’ll take with all Sora episodes though. Sora’s easy to overlook because she’s already kind, brave, and responsible - the main things the other kids need to work on. Still she never bored me in old Adventure. I only ever wanted more of her and that was my hope for 2020 Sora. Her intro episode wasn’t a great start, but guess what, she got to be pretty darn cool in this episode, and overall the tone of this ep was such an improvement on ep 4 that I’m back to thinking we will absolutely get a modern, cool girl Sora who rocks her spotlight episodes in the future. Pray with me friends.

By the way we finally got some decent animation in this episode. So I took gratuitous Taichi pics and I’ll post a couple to start us off bahahaha

Okay, so this was the much-awaited MIMI episode. Heck yeah. It’s called “The Targeted Kingdom.” Who is the queen of the kingdom, I’ll give you three guesses, eh what’s that Mimi? like WOW you got it on the first try!

More below!!

^ So I’m not quite sure what’s going on here. I think Sora is standing on Taichi’s back and Piyomon is helping lift her (them?) up into the trees so Sora can look around? They are trying to find the way to the ocean. This seems like the most awkward way possible to go about it but you do you kiddo...

See, Adventure Taichi would be making jokes while this is happening. 2020 Taichi is thinking about The Big Picture, at least as much of it as he knows of. He’s turning into such a pensive type. Yamato’s gonna have to work hard to keep his lead brooder status.

Also I was thinking... there’s a few times in this ep, and more in others, where I feel like the animators don’t show us enough... Idk what to call it, movement? The fall out of actions? Like why don’t we see them climb into the tree? Why are we zoomed into so close when they fall out? Later during the big fight scene, there’s stuff going on that could definitely be shown in a clearer, and also cooler to watch, way. My theory of course is it’s all budget issues but what a bummer.

The kids’ first intro to the bottomless pit that is a Digimon’s stomach. They have no food (seriously? in that pack of emergency supplies Sora brought by pure happenstance there is NO food??) so they go... steal some. But they don’t know they’re stealing.

Not that SHE cares.

Mimi: Bahaha... you’ve fallen into my trap! *cutest maniacal laugh ever*

^The trap

There is another trap that comes later in the ep and I’ll just say here. It’s some Jessie & James level shit. Way to go Meems!

ugh soooo cuuuute I want twenty

Introducing... Queen Mimi! Yes, Queen. They’ve upgraded her!

Honestly, I love how she’s introduced as royalty, but she’s dressed as a cowgirl. No one would ever ask Mimi to pick just one theme. Like her kimchi fried rice with whipped cream and strawberries, Mimi is not afraid to mix genres!

Like I said, the animation in this ep is a cut above what’s it been recently, which is a relief. And everyone’s appearance is so much like Adventure that I wonder why they changed anything xD But I’m just so grateful everyone kept their unique eyes. It was the one thing I missed in the animation of Tri, even though I wouldn’t have wanted high school kids to have baby eyes. But the eyes really highlighted each character’s individuality. Glad that’s still a thing even if not every animator pays attention to it.

Taichi & Sora: Were those your fruit trees? Uhh sorry? My Digimon was close to death and we were starving...

Mimi: You will starve again unless you learn the meaning of the law!

that’s a little les mis interlude for ya youre welcome

So Mimi arrived in the digital world, separated from the others, and immediately became Queen of the Tanemon. I SENSE A TREND.

Mimi doesn’t come across as ditzy and selfish as she did in early Adventure. I am not sure if that side of her’s been erased in favor of simply making her reluctant to fight because she’s soft-hearted, or if we’ll see her self-centeredness appear later on. I hope so. Right now the 2020 story is very focused on the plot and not on the children’s growth, which is a huge departure from Adventure, but I don’t think it will remain that way. I hope not at least. But I do think it’s possible that they’ll rewrite Mimi to be a bit less self-centered and/or airheady, and I’m not exactly against that. After all, post-Adventure Mimi showed her cool side more when she was willful or opinionated, and I’m on board with more of that in the 2020 show too. A better balance would definitely be a good thing in Mimi’s case.

She kind of made me think of Sailor Moon in this episode, lol

GASP! We are all Chosen Children! Mimi immediately says NOOO WAY i’m queen of the Tanemon!! But not because the Tanemon are catering to her every whim (they’re not, as far as I can tell! Though they did make her a throne!). Because she honestly feels a responsibility to look after them. Again, pretty different from old Adventure.

Pocket Koushirou returns and Taichi tries to absorb him into his brain!!

Taichi: *grunting* HNNNNGGGG!! Give me me your curiosity!!!

Koushirou: Are you Vademon!?!?!

Koushirou shows video footage from the human world that shows the effect the power outage is having. Though it’s not a complete blackout yet, some places like hospitals have already lost power and are in trouble.

Mimi sees her grandfather, the president of Tachikawa Industries, on the TV helping people in trouble. VERY DIFFERENT. VERY COOL. I approve

Koushirou also points out that there is INDEED a time lapse between the human and digital worlds. I’m not exactly sure how different the time lapse is from old Adventure. At first, I thought it was much smaller, but thinking about it... given how slow the video from the human world was moving, it might be sizable. But I don’t think it’s as big as old Adventure. At any rate, Taichi and Sora figure out this means Mimi was on her own with Palmon and the Tanemon village for longer than they realized.

Also makes me wonder just how much time Yamato’s spent in the digital world...

Mimi feels torn between wanting to help her grandfather and needed to protect the Tanemon village! Naturally Taichi suggests they work together!

And a Tanemon rudely kicks him in the face!! Just kidding. But it was too cute not to cap

Mimi brings the waterworks like three or four times this episode.

Mimi: Alright! You work for me now!

Taichi: ...??? Okay I guess????

Yes, Princess or Queen, Mimi is still Mimi <3

So they join up and uhh... get ready for war I guess??

I MEAN HOW CUTE IS THAT

So this is the second Team Rocket trap, a giant hole in the ground. How did they dig it? How did the build that raft two eps ago?? Inquiring minds want to know

Greymon is surprisingly limber for a chubby dinosaur.

Taichi does what he does best in battle scenes: stand in immediate danger and look up a dinosaur’s bum.

OGREMON MAKES HIS BIG APPEARANCE IN A MIMI EP. I totally called it last week. Okay, technically he already appeared in episode 5... but we barely saw him okay! He uses Soundbirdmon (who may indeed not be sentient?) to mind-control other Digimon to find and apparently kill?? the children. Ogremon honestly sounds kind of mind-controlled himself but not sure. If he is, it’s a different kind of control. He may just talk like that because he’s an ogre and not very articulate...

I guess I capped this because CUTE CUTE CUTE

So speaking of rushing into immediate danger... Not only is Sora right in the middle of the right, she’s HANGING OFF BIRDRAMON’S LEG. This show is SO not promoting child safety hahahhahaha

Cute Taichi. Cuter still - Taichi and Sora tag teaming it. PLEEEEEASE give me more of this!! I want nothing more than for Sora to join Taichi and Yamato as a heavy-hitter. I always headcanoned her that way growing up. Let Sora kick ass 2020!!

^Palmon’s method of rescuing Mimi... effective, yet questionable

Capped because Cute.

Sora and Birdramon take down the blue bird digimon (sorry... forgot its name... will likely forget the name of every other Digimon not from old Adventure as well. i am a senior citizen). Taichi cheers for them and says “You nabbed the best bit from me!” SO CUTE. Come on, they are the best team!!

Meanwhile, Palmon: *screams bloody murder*

Mimi: Palmon! Noooo!

Episode 6: Palmon friggin DIES

I mean she is like glitching in and out. So it totally FIGURES it would be a Mimi ep that tells us “yeah kids we’re not Pokemon!” I mean. Keep watching...

Mimi recalls being all alone in a strange world when she meets Palmon. Btw they totally revamped the Pyokomon Village for this Tanemon village, I dig.

EVOLUUUUUTION!!

Boxing!!! Cactus!!! Eat this Precure!!!!

While Togemon takes out Drimogemon, Greymon rushes in to protect the kids from Ogremon...

... AND FREAKING SAWS HIS HORN OFF.

Like I said. THIS AIN’T POKEMON, KIDS.

Isn’t this actually darker than old Adventure? I mean I guess at least no one dies (I think? uhh...) and I suppose that’s less dark... but sawing off body parts... Idk man... I’m down with it, I just don’t know that it’s any nicer than old Adventure... hahahaha

POW! Err, Drimogemon’s drill ain’t looking too good either...

More waterworks as Mimi tells Palmon she loves her, and Palmon says it right back. Foreshadowing for Mimi/Koushirou tiffs in the future!? It was lit last ep that Koushirou tried to say he loves his partner and choked on it. Something tells me these two are gonna butt heads again ;)

Ugggggghhhh so cute I can’t staaaaaaand ittttt

Mimi decides to go with Taichi and Sora and leave the Tanemon village, Idk, I guess they’ll be safe now??? at least they won’t be targeted for having a human child among them.

Also I like her leaf bag. The Tanemon totally made it for her.

We end with Ogremon gripping his broken horn and fricking sobbing. This... does not bode well.

I want to hug him

so cast your votes, who gets the first hurt/comfort scene with Ogremon? Will it be gentle chastisement from Mimi while she patches him up with stuff from Sora’s pack? Or will it be Jou and the toilet paper you know he brought even if it makes no sense?!? hahahaha

I give this ep a 7/10 WELL DONE. That’s what a Digimon episode should be. Very close to VERY VERY GOOD.

I missed the trailer for next week so have more gratuitous Taichis instead.

#digimon adventure 2020 #digimon psi #psi spoilers #fizz watches digimon 2020

27 notes · View notes

jflashandclash · 4 years

Text

Tales From Mount Othrys

Ajax: Birth of the Triple A Chimera

Warning: cute fluffy creature death. I tried not to make it graphic. :/

The fall splintered your body. It ruined your mind.

Like Lucifer grasping at the heavens, wondering, But you said you loved me, your hand extended towards her, clinging to a snapping string, to your love, admiration, and respect. To the world how it once was. To a world how it should be.

But she let you crumble into oblivion. That angel of Justice. Your Michael. The slick-fingered Azrael. She condemned you to be lost forever.

Banishing herself into the bosom of a merciless moon queen, she left you there, on the cliff’s bottom, a scattered mosaic with nothing but Achilles’ curse keeping your meat suit together. Your eyes stare out like the exit of a well. Blank.

Dead? No. I trembled to think you dead.

Your injury is hidden behind a sheet of skin, but I can see your mind break. She betrayed your trust and betrayed your love. Your eyes gaze to the heavens as I cradle you, and you think you are lost.

I won’t let you fall apart. If God doesn’t want us in his court, we shall build our court up to him and make him love us.

--Jack, The day Thalia kicked Luke off a cliff

“Can you babysit Ajax this Friday?”

Pax wasn’t supposed to be eavesdropping on Axel and Alabaster and probably wasn’t supposed to hear that question. He was supposed to be moving boxes from the front of the new laboratory’s atrium to the center of the laboratory. This is where he hoped he would be turned into a variety of rodents (or mustelids, as Alabaster had corrected him: otters, minks, weasels��and that one time Axel was turned into a wolverine—were all part of the mustelid family).

Technically, Pax was still doing his job. He just slowed down when entering the central hub of the laboratory, where Alabaster and Axel were talking.

The two had dragged in a massive crate of magical artifacts from different colonies of Greece. Really, Axel had carried his side while Alabaster was cursing and swearing over a hand that had been smashed in the doorway. Axel pulled the box open with a crow bar. Alabaster withdrew a lion mask that he said had mislabeled from Numidia, grumbling that he’d need to fix the labels once they were ready to put things on shelves.

Between grumbles and devious chin strokes—which Pax thought made Alabaster look quite esteemed—Alabaster nodded. “I can watch him. Same time as your normal matches?”

Axel’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He set the crow bar atop a stack of unsorted wooden boxes with a thunk. He undid his hairtie, shook the mane of braids and locks out, and went to retying his hair. Recently, Axel had quarter-shaved one side when he found a wad of gum in his bed. Pax knew it was Mercedes. Would anyone else believe him? No. Pax got blamed.

“Thirty minutes earlier. Jack and Luke want to add in a pre-show. Apparently, they’re going to be recorded and sent to Antaeus. Luke… thinks he’ll like them.” Axel puffed up his cheeks and popped them. The motion made the shadows under his eyes look like a pit of Cocoa Puffs.

“Ajax mentioned that you haven’t been sleeping well,” Alabaster said. Although he held the mask up, like he was examining it with the aloof expertise of someone that Indian Jones would rob, his gaze narrowed at the older boy.

Pax hoped Axel would listen to Alabaster.

Instead, Axel glared at the door entrance, where Pax hovered with another box. Pax thought he’d been inconspicuous. He’d been wrong before though, like the time he tried sneaking into the girl’s bathroom with Matt. Their wigs and fake boobs had taken Pax a full ten minutes to assure they weren’t lopsided.

“You little snitch,” Axel snapped.

Pax gave him an innocent grin. “That’s literally my job.”

Alabaster sighed. “Get out.”

“You told me to carry in boxes,” Pax complained, setting his atop another with a huff. This box was, in fact, full of various bird feathers and did not warrant a huff, but he relied on Alabaster and Axel not to check the label.

“Yes. To carry boxes in. Not to eavesdrop. Take a camou blanket and go find Sphinx.” Alabaster pointed to the door.

Sphinx was Lou Ellen’s Mist cat, one that (Pax was disappointed to discover) could not sprout wings or a tiny human head. Alabaster often pretended Sphinx had escaped to give Lou Ellen and Pax busywork. Pax loved it. They could pretend they were hunting through the savannah. Shoddily-made safari hats included.

Today, Alabaster gave him a meaningful look. After Axel’s last match, Alabaster had agreed to talk to Axel about the nightmares. If nothing else than to get Pax to shut up for thirty minutes. Pax agreed to fifteen and they had themselves a deal.

Pax knew the real solution was to end Axel’s arena fights. Killing legionnaires for sport in front of a live audience? Good for super villains. Not good for secretly-squishy older brothers.

Axel always had nightmares, but he could hardly get through a few hours of sleep without waking up screaming. The nights that he carved a new scar into his cheeks—one for each person he killed—were the worst. “They deserve to be remembered,” he had explained. His morbid collection of trinkets from the dead had grown too large for their room (and too much like a “ZOMBIE VENGENCE HERE” sign for the inevitable apcocolype). Scarification was Axel’s new method.

Apparently, Luke wasn’t about letting Axel stop his fights; Jack said the ratings were too good.

As such, Pax hoped Alabaster could magic the nightmares away. That seemed like a healthy way to repress trauma, right?

“Ajax,” Alabaster said in his Don’t Make Me Remove Your Mouth voice.

Pax scrambled to a box with some of his, Jack’s, and Axel’s band equipment. Prometheus—likely in attempt to gain Alabaster’s eternal hatred—had suggested the boys do band practice in the laboratory while it was being set up. The lab was out in the middle of nowhere and non-disruptive for anyone but Alabaster (a hermit who loved silence). Luke thought this was a grand idea.

Pax’s fingertips found the cold, stretchy fabric of the camou blanket. They hadn’t figured out what to use it for, but Jack was sure some inspiration would hit while they were practicing.

In the meantime, Pax tossed the blanket over his shoulders and slunk out the door.

There were only a few rooms in the building. Boxes littered the front atrium and back entrance. His fingers twitched to think of all the magical ingredients mishmashed in the cylinders resting on walls and various, mysterious jugs. Supposedly, Alabaster had labeled everything. Unfortunately, Matthias was in charge of dropping off their stuff from the Princess Andromeda and had taken the courtesy to do artistic renderings over each label. To put it kindly, Matt was a genius of ideas, but would starve as an artist.

Alabaster’s new laboratory was a pioneer project—the first land-based operation center, functioning almost independent of the soon-to-be self-built Mount Othrys. Pax had ignored most of the politics involved in asking Kronos for the separate space (an area Alabaster, Lou Ellen, and Lamia didn’t need to worry about blowing up the Princess Andromeda while experimenting with magic of mass destruction). All Pax cared about was why they weren’t wearing pioneer hats if this was a pioneer project. He had even offered to reenact dying from cholera a la Oregon Trail, though no one paid him much mind.

This was super top secret. No one knew where it was. Not even Axel and Pax knew where they were going until that morning. Pax wondered what Matt knew about it and how Alabaster had managed to commandeer Axel and Pax during would-be band time. From what Pax had heard, Jack was conspiring to visit as a surprise (which meant he, and by extension, Flynn knew the location). If anyone could puppy-dog-eye information out of people, it was Jack. Pax aspired for such unassuming, devious cuteness.

Pax crept over a Styrofoam box he could only assume contained dry ice and perishable ingredients where Matt had sloppily etched a Yeti. Or those spiky bits could be a crown of thorns for a stick-figure Jesus. Pax would have to talk to Matthias about blasphemy later.

At the front, there were pillars on either side of the entrance, and a low wall between the two of them, forcing anyone advancing to pick one side or the other to enter. Alabaster explained this was in honor of Hecate and there were—in fact—three different paths to take. This led Pax and Axel to energetically vault over the low wall. It warmed Pax’s heart. Alabaster pretended he didn’t care about them, but, for whom else would he personally design an obstacle course?

A tail flicked on the other side of the wall.

Pax crawled up against it.

The front had a concrete patio with no walkway, just long grass, scattered trees, and rolling hills. Soon, the children of Hecate would make runes around the place to ward off attention. They had already put some in place to make it so no one could stumble upon it unless they knew to look for the laboratory. Pax called it paranoid. Alabaster called it preparedness.

The stone wall felt cold against Pax’s back as he flattened himself, keeping the blanket wrapped around him. This gave him a good view through the doorway—in case he could spot Axel or Alabaster for more eavesdropping—and a narrow view outside.

There, curling around the end of the low wall, was Sphinx. Her black hair bristled. Pax assumed she had see him and was lazily coming his way for pets.

However, her head wasn’t turned towards him. Her ears were alert, gaze surveying the tall grass.

Pax opened his mouth to chirp at her.

Something thudded into Sphinx’s neck, pinning her to the building. It happened so fast, Pax didn’t register that Sphinx was dead.

He was accustomed to seeing violence against humans in his favorite gore movies, his father’s “entertainment nights,” and the few cage fights he’d seen Axel do. He was used to it against mythological creatures.

Seeing the thing protrude from her scruffy fur made Pax cover a scream.

An arrow. It had been an arrow.

“Bryce, what the fuck!?” someone hissed, only a few yards away. “It was a cat! You could have given away our position.”

Pax froze, keeping his hands clamped over his mouth. Had he made a clapping sound when he covered his lips?

“A witch’s familiar, Centurion. It might have alerted the leader of Hecate to our presence. It wasn’t a real cat.”

Not a real cat. Pax thought about the times Sphinx had chased him around the ship’s laboratory when he was various rodents, the times she’d snuck into the Pax brother’s room to curl up on Axel’s chest as a space heater, the way Lou Ellen giggled with glee to see her “baby girl” lose all her grace and elegance to the superiority of a laser pointer.

Her Mist body crumbled and collapsed, leaving the arrow pinned into the wall.

Tear burned the rims of his eyes. The urge to sob reminded Pax that he hadn’t been breathing. He couldn’t tell if the world was spinning from a lack of air or from panic. A warning slithered in the back of his head, if you breathe, they’ll know you’re here.

The camue blanket had fallen to his shoulders when he grabbed his mouth. Hands trembling, he clutched the edges.

This voice drifted from the other side of the low wall.

They’re surrounding the building. Pax swallowed. Centurion. Romans.

“You’re fucked up, Bryce,” a third mumbled. “We weren’t supposed to move until Cahoon cut the power.”

If they cut the power, all the phone lines would go down. Unlike other demigods, Kronos’ men didn’t fear drawing monsters with technology; they welcomed new recruits. But, Iris wasn’t exactly cool with delivering messages for the opposing side. If they lost the power lines, they might not be able to get word out.

Pax’s breath went from nonexistent to ragged.

Alabaster had wanted privacy and quiet to set up his lab. Matthias was only supposed to do one drop off that morning. They didn’t know when Jack would show up.

They were alone.

“I can’t wait to mount a lion’s head on my wall,” the second guy, Bryce, muttered. His voice had a bouncy energy to it. Pax had heard of pre-battle jitters. These sounded too light.

A Lion’s Head. Pax choked on a whine. They’re talking about Axel.

“The lion’s head is mine,” a feminine voice stated softly.

“Alright, Ari. Sheesh, we get it. You’re mad that that cannibal ate Julian after he killed him.”

A tiny, detached part of Pax wanted to squeal a protest. Julian? Praetor Julian? The first person Axel had killed. He hadn’t eaten him—Axel fought to get Julian a proper funeral so he would remain uneaten.

Everything felt like it was tunneling to the arrow on the wall. How much time had he wasted cowering here? His brain fumbled. This was it. This was his job. He was the recon guy. That’s what Mercedes had been—

What would Mercedes do?

Pax fumbled to his belt, to the mirror she had specially made for him. It was reflective, but the surface was dulled to minimize glare. He forced himself to take two regularish breaths, to not picture Axel’s head on a wall.

“Damn it, Bryce. How did you get put on this mission? Just remember we’re not supposed to kill the younger kid with the two colored eyes. You heard command. He’s their spymaster’s assistant and a whole wealth of information.”

They know a lot. They know too much.

With as little noise as he could manage, Pax shifted the camue blanket up his arm, so he could hold the mirror with a covered hand. He leaned against the edge of the wall, tilting the mirror to see into the fields.

Memo to self: request magical one-way camue blanket that he could see-through but others can’t.

“He needs to be able to talk. Doesn’t mean he needs to be able to walk.”

“I reiterate: you’re fucked up, Bryce.”

“Quiet,” the feminine voice, the centurion, growled.

There they were: not people, but ominous divots in the grass. They might have been wearing camue blankets too, though Pax doubted it. These weren’t professionals. Pax could tell from the loud chatter. He wondered if they’d been gathered in a hurry and hadn’t been able to vet out people like the cat-killer, Bryce.

About thirty feet away, beyond the long grass, two people stood by the power line in construction workers outfits. From what Pax could see, something glinted under the bright orange reflectors: armor. The perfect, quick cover. Alabaster even said they’d been struggling with power and relying on backup generators. Would the Romans know to cut the backup generators?

One thing was certain: there was no referee to yell at the Romans for bringing too many players onto the field. If Pax had to guess, the back door and windows would be covered too. He shivered to remember Mercedes’ fingers glide across his shoulder. Pax Two, I will give you a piece of candy if you can tell me how many doors and windows we passed in this building.

He wished she were here, barking orders about the obvious things he had missed. But, then she’d be in danger too.

If Pax made it out of this alive, he vowed to write a Hey Mr. ADHD song that promoted concentration and calm. There was a back exit, a front exit, and several windows in every room except the very center of the building, where Axel and Alabaster were unaware of their plight. Pax puffed up his cheeks, barely catching himself before he popped them. He didn’t know if there were any secret exits. That would be prime information.

As he crept back through the atrium, he tilted his mirror out the window. Maybe thirty feet away, he caught sight of movement: snipers. The Romans had scouted the building. They would be watching every exit, and likely had attack forces at each entrance.

Panic later. Move now.

The Romans were far enough away that they wouldn’t be able to hear missteps past the atrium, but Pax focused on the memory of Mercedes’ bells strung at his neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees, and feet. If one of the imaginary bells rang, the Romans might know. They might come in here, skewer Axel, shoot Alabaster in the head with an arrow, and drag Pax off, kicking and screaming.

By the time he reached the central lab, sweat trickled off his face, threatening to make a plopping sound onto the floor. Axel and Alabaster’s voices echoed amongst the boxes. Although they spoke at a normal level, each word made Pax’s ears ring like a cannon.

He couldn’t decipher what they said. The boxes, tubes, and wayward lab and band equipment blurred as he stepped up to Axel, his feet knowing where to go while his mind was numb with fear.

His hand was on his brother’s arm. Axel and Alabaster froze, mid-talk, staring at Pax in worry. There must have been something wrong with his face.

“There is a Roman hitsquad outside. I counted five in the front. There are likely five in the back and there are snipers at every window. They want to kill Axel and take me alive for interrogation. Unsure on their intentions with Witch Boy.”

Once the words were out, it became real. It wasn’t his turn to keep it together. It was Axel’s, the planner.

Which was good, because Pax felt himself tremble with panic.

Thank you for reading! Stay tuned next week to see how well three teenage idiots panic over being surrounded. I hope you guys are staying safe and healthy!

#Axel #Pax #alabaster #Sphinx #SPHINX D:#I love cats and may have cried over this cat that has been mentioned a grand number of two times in the series #Bryce of the Head Shaped like a Dickus #Centurion Ari out for revenge #Tales from Mount Othrys #PJO #HOO #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #Heroes of Olympus #Byrce #Trying to get my steam back #I would rather be giving you guys light-hearted stories right now #but unfortunately this is all backlogged from when I was going through a rough time #soooooo--yay! Angst!#But for real--the rest of the book is basically if all the early 2000 emo bands had a reunion at an Abandoned Twinkies factory

5 notes · View notes

queenxcersei · 6 years

Text

emotional about jaime | cersei parallels yet again: tywin’s death. this episode - dealing w grief for prominent figures they aren’t 100% sure how to deal w their own emotions about. main focus on cersei b/c this is a cersei lannister blog, but i have feelings abt jaime i’ll try to contain for the sake of clarity / focusing on the muse. jaimes feel free to @ my w/your thoughts

“The queen felt strangely calm. [... ] And my father. My lord father. Should I scream and tear my hair?** (see readmore) They said that catelyn stark clawed her own face to bloody ribbons when the freys slew her precious robb. Would you like that, father? She wanted to ask him. Or would you want me to be strong? Did you weep for your own father?” - cersei, affc

“It was queer, but he felt no grief. Where are my tears? Where is my rage? Jaime Lannister had never lacked for rage. “Father,” he told the corpse, “it was you who told me tears were a mark of weakness in a man, so you cannot expect that I should cry for you.” “ - jaime, affc

so, i’ll start off w/ the man himself. the paradox with tywin is he’s obsessed with ‘family’ but does not actually care for his individual children beyond their purpose to propagate lannister power-- by forming alliances through marriages, increasing their renown (and thus the family’s), etc. he is pragmatic, yes, but to the point he fucks his kids up so much that they hate him, or at least cannot decide how to feel about him.

just from these quotes as they stand, you can see both twins struggle plainly with connecting any grief to the death of their father. “he felt no grief / the queen felt strangely calm”. how can you mourn someone you grew to hate? when, some part of you, though you can’t quite acknowledge it (isn’t it wrong? aren’t you supposed to be sad when a parent dies?), is glad that this immense shadow has faded, the eyes that made you feel “weak/worthless/ugly” are closed forever? their reactions are great examples of kids trying to deal with their emotions towards an abusive parent. they made your life hell, but they’re your parent. that’s meant to mean something, right? but tywin was never a father in the conventional term. he never cuddles his children or tells them they’re doing good. he starves them of any attention and projects his own hypocrisies and fears onto them. despite his icy facade, tywin lannister is a hypersensitive dick. he has a guy locked in the bowels of casterly rock until he starves to death for making a joke about his shit being gold-flecked. insecure much????? and he projects this onto his kids, primarily his ‘’’’golden twins’’’’’ because they hold all the hopes for house lannister, in his eyes. cersei is to be a queen, and jaime is to be the pinnacle of Man ; but both quiet and subordinate as far as concerns their father’s wishes. but also never cowing to the sheep. but also aware of the sheep. but also not caring what they think. but also you’re better than all of them anyway. he highlights his disgust of certain virtues and implies to his kids that they suffer from the same ‘ills’ when they displease him. peak manipulation! and people wonder why cersei and jaime are the way they are.

there is some relief, for both of them. of course it is a terrible event for the sake of their house, as tywin is believed to be the main power of the lannisters throughout the seven kingdoms ( though i have to talk sometime about how that idea is FAKE NEWS! and tywin is not this infallible mastermind everyone thinks he is, he is a huge hypocrite---- back to focus ). cersei fears the brightest star in the west has fallen, but she also revels in the idea of never being forced into a marriage again. never having to take someone into bed again that she does not wish there. she feels like with her father’s death some of her own agency has been restored to her-- a pipedream, of course. this is westeros, and we see in the latter part of the book and the next just how much she will suffer at the hands of patriarchal ideals ( fuck kevan lannister! ). they revere him, but they hate him. a perfect example of this love/hate is exemplified by cersei here:

“Such a man deserves a retinue to attend his needs in hell.” - cersei i, affc.

like?? this?? speaks for itself?? she believes tywin deserves accompaniment in the afterlife akin to a king. and i can’t help, personally, thinking of the ancient rulers ( especially in egypt ) that had servants buried with them to aid them beyond the grave. it shows her idolisation of tywin, but also how she views him. he’s not going up, he’s going down. and i don’t just believe it is because cersei is aware of the atrocities he has committed; it’s how she feels about him. tywin makes his children yearn for that pat of the head, but always withdraws the hand an inch further, forcing them to chase after these impossible ideals he puts in place for them! tywin gets his wish with cersei, she becomes a queen: but it’s still not enough. jaime becomes a renowned knight with many accomplishments: it’s still not enough.

“would you want me to be strong?” / “you told me tears were a sign of weakness in a man”

they even question how their father would want them to process grief!!! he has fucked his kids up so badly they can’t even be sad about his death, nevermind deal with it. the twins don’t even know if crying is ‘correct’, or if their father would be glaring down on them, disgusted with the show of ‘’’’’’weakness’’’’ (SUCH a toxic concept). it’s more Lannisters Bottling Up Emotion, and it isn’t healthy.

talking specifically of cersei: own father kept her locked up in a tower from the age of twelve to fifteen when he sent for her to join him at court. he denied every suitor because he wanted his daughter to be queen no matter what. jaime even talks about cersei growing more beautiful and ‘womanly’ locked up there; i can’t help think of rapunzel in her tower, locked up and barred by some patriarchal ideal that she has to be kept pure and untouchable until her [parental figure] finds her a husband suitable (in their eyes) for her. ( then she burns her tower, her PRISON FOR YEARS, in affc..... my emotions ). and tywin makes a prisoner of cersei in more ways than just the literal. his control over his daughter is immense, and i believe he is a huge factor in her paranoia, her overreaction, her constant self-checking------ -- - and, of course, her internalised misogyny. his gaze pins her to her chair, and even tyrion feels pity for cersei. TYRION. “you are the queen, he should be begging your permission to leave” or w/e the quote is. cersei is the most powerful person in the room, but she turns to a child every time her father is near. a huge indicator for an abuser; i don’t believe tywin hit his children, but the emotional abuse... i’m not even touching on tyrion here, but think tysha. tyrion certainly gets the ABSOLUTE WORST of tywin’s treatment, but i don’t think cersei and jaime got off anywhere near scot free. tywin uses her as a pawn, and blatantly does not give a shit that his daughter was constantly r/aped and a/bused by her husband. women were made to smile and reproduce. as long as cersei did not make a fuss about it ( and i hc part of her silence is the idea that her father would condemn her for being so weak as to either let it happen (disgusting), or to complain about it to him as if she cannot deal with it herself. which, she does. but how horrific is it that his own daughter didn’t feel she could come to him with her abuse? instead, she turns to jaime. but that’s a whole other meta. )

talking specifically of jaime: tywin disowns his own son for not acquiescing to his desires!!!! he tells his prized son that he is not a member of this family anymore, for not obeying Orders. as he should, because tywin’s children should be wrenches and hammers, tools for exercising his will. and tywin usually gets what he wants, by whatever means necessary. his brutality is legendary; his kids are no exception to this rule. jaime, it could be said, suffers the worst of all three from his father’s endless (impossible) expectations. he is to rule the rock, but also be an infallible knight, but also a commander, but also loyal to tywin/TheFamily alone, but also have wives and produce heirs, but also never complain about any of it and have any desires of his own. also let’s just mention how tywin uses his knowledge of jaime+tyrion’s closeness to manipulate jaime into aiding with the whole tysha scheme, leaving jaime with immense misplaced guilt and troubling memories. his father tells him at the age of ~eight that love is worthless because you cannot feed a horse with it, or keep a house warm with it.

he wants control of them, and to get that control, he makes them compete for his approval / ‘love’. this obviously creates resentment, discord; and is another example of why i think tywin isn’t all the tactical mastermind people believe him to be. his tactics are all very well short-term, but long-term... there are many examples and fgs i’ll write this later, but in terms of his kids: they don’t know what parental love is meant to feel like, they idolise this abusive prick who is a hypocrite of his own ideals (married for love/has whores/is hugely insecure/ACTUALLY MAKES BAD DECISIONS SOMETIMES??) and places such high expectations on his kids that they break their backs trying to reach them. he wants his children to be empty little vesicles for his own desires, and by ignoring their individuality and pitting them against one another, he creates the downfall of his own house! i love this house of self-destructive idiots! i hate this house!

below: for me it is further evidence of how fucked the children of tywin are that they can’t even process SADNESS because what is an attachment beyond each other, as one another are the only love each has ever come to know? forget conventionality, forget the realm, forget what other people think. no one matters but each other, because, FAMILY IS ALL THAT MATTERS. ANYONE BUT A LANNISTER IS LESSER, right? thanks for the life fuckery lessons, dad.

“He was curiously calm. Men were supposed to go mad with grief when their children died, he knew. They were supposed to *tear their hair out by the roots, to curse the gods and swear red vengeance. So why was it that he felt so little?” - jaime asos

just had to highlight this Cool Comparison between cersei and jaime’s povs and how the parallels reiterate what i’m trying to say here about difficulty processing grief. and also, vague sidenote, about tearing hair out and how both twins lose their hair as a symbol of death/rebirth and the various literary implications of that------- but focusing on grief:

this quote is jaime finding out about joffrey’s death. he explains his difficulty feeling sadness, telling himself that it is because ‘joffrey was more robert’s than his’ as an excuse. he had no attachment to the boy, bc he didn’t feel like he should have one. cersei told him early on how that could endanger them, and he didn’t care. ‘robert was welcome to him’-- though this might be bias of hindsight-- he dislikes joffrey in the present-- but it is also seen in jaime’s jealousy colouring his view------ jaime lannister is inherently selfish, especially when it comes to his twin, and joffrey “took up too much of cersei’s time, cersei’s love, and cersei’s breasts.” ( still laughs 100 yrs later at jaime getting jealous of a baby breastfeeding ).

#meta.#long post //#[ does this make sense? i do not know.#mostly stream of consciousness but i had to Get It Out Somehow. ]#house lannister #| ♕ █ ` you shall be remembered only as queen cersei's sire. ( tywin )#| ♕ █ ` hear me roar.

7 notes · View notes

confessions-of-a-hs-graduat-blog · 7 years

Text

Chapter 5: Wigglebum-itis

I started to have what the school diplomatically referred to as behavioural issues in the second grade. The teacher, Mrs. S, sent home letter after letter bemoaning my various disruptions: pestering other students during Quiet Time, cracking jokes, moving around when I was meant to be sitting still, and sitting still when I was meant to be moving around.

Look, I have an infinite amount of sympathy for teachers. Firstly, they’re shamefully underpaid; secondly, class sizes keep growing and growing; and lastly, constant budget cuts mean there just aren’t enough resources for students with special needs. Among other things, to say the least. I feel them. I really do.

So I can hardly blame Mrs. S., for what happened next, and I totally don’t want her to fall into a bottomless pit filled with snakes, and I would never want it so that the snakes bite her as she is falling; or that the pit would have no bottom and so she just keeps falling and being bitten by snakes. For eternity.

Flustered by my “wigglebum-itis” as she scientifically put it, Mrs. S. created a Behavioural Chart. The Behavioural Chart was laid out not unlike the Universal Pain Assessment Tool that doctors use to judge the level of pain in their patients, and was roughly as esoteric. For each day of the school week, I would receive a sticker with a face that corresponded to how much of a little shit I’d been on a given day – happy, sad, inflamed with rage, drinking problem. Each day, I would take the Behaviour Chart home and present it to my parents, who would either see that I’d been “good” that day and be pleased, or see that I’d been “bad”, and beat me.

Oh – that wasn’t the way it was intended to work?

---

My father had a long, hard ruler. It’s not the title of an incest porn, but what eventually became a daily reality. It was eighteen inches long, made of blond wood, and had a thin, sharp metal edge along the numbered side, ostensibly for drawing more accurate lines. I like to think about the manufacturer of that ruler, and what they imagined their customers would use them for. Perhaps they pictured architects working busily at their angled desks, maybe the next Frank Lloyd Wright, designing buildings for people to live and work in. Or maybe they imagined a dedicated student, feverishly changing out ruler for protractor for compass, studying for college. Certainly they didn’t imagine them being used to hit children. Or they did, but they kept it to themselves and select subreddits.

Sadly, that isn’t what the ruler was used for. With broad strokes, my father brought the ruler down on my backside, my legs, whatever part of my wriggling, escaping self presented itself.

I’d love to tell you that a couple good whuppins set me straight, and that I sat down and shut up during Quiet Time, and quit cracking jokes, and it was all thanks a little Fear ‘o God and the Almighty Ruler.

But in reality, after a little more digging, a few visits to the school counselor, a few of those highly entertaining standardized tests, it was determined that I was just “gifted” – which is 80s-speak for “I already know all this shit already” – and it was no wonder that I was disturbing the other children, for I was bored out of my gourd. I have to hand it to Mrs. S. for figuring that out – cheers, Mrs. S.; I hope the snakes in the bottomless pit are not poisonous, and are just, like, garter snakes.

I was packed off part-time to a special program for gifted students, where we really did “discover our desks”, and that was that. Or at least, it should have been. The Behaviour Chart was put away, but the ruler was here for good.

---

It’s difficult to talk about personal experiences with abuse – unless it’s extreme – without running the risk of sounding like a whiny, self-serving mess. There’s always someone who had it worse: children locked in closets, starved and forced to eat and sleep and play in puddles of their own waste; children whipped with belts until cuts gape open on their backs like toothless grins; children sexually assaulted by those who are meant to love and protect them the most. I’ve experienced none of that.

And I do have perspective. My parents are not horrible people; they simply should not have been parents. My father had anger issues – he wasn’t a psychopath who took special pleasure in causing me pain – I don’t think – though it certainly seemed to make him feel better in general. That said, while I know I rank pretty low on the list of People Whose Parents Fucked Them Up, I still refuse to minimize my experiences.

Because they don’t stop when the abuse stops, and it isn’t just the emotional scars that you carry with you for the rest of your life. Instead, it’s the extra pain you carry when something terrible happens and you don’t have a mom to call just to hear her say something that’ll make you feel better, even though you know it’s not true, like, Well, fuck that other person, there isn’t anything wrong with you, so don’t even worry about it (I like to imagine my ideal mother as throwing around the word ‘fuck’ rather casually).

Or, it’s the burden of deciding, when it comes to your wedding day, Who will walk me down the aisle? Should I choose someone else – which will result in people feeling sorry for me – or walk by myself – which will also result in people feeling sorry for me? It’s two less people you can call when you’re in trouble, two less people in your life that you can count on, no matter what.

In truth, the main reason it’s difficult to relay these experiences is because, in a lot of cases, I just don’t remember. I used to; I carried these memories for a long time, until some were dulled by the passage of time, their edges made less sharp. Some were claimed by the mercy of advancing age, some replaced by greater horrors still to come. What I have left is not unlike the snapshots in an old photo album: damaged, faded, and just barely intact.

But I remember: My mother smearing my hand across the urine-spackled inside rim of the toilet, because she didn’t like the way I cleaned it; my father, asking me whether I’d like my beating before or after dinner; my mother, open-palm slapping me in the face, when I was still small enough for the recoil to send me sprawling across the room.

I won’t proselytize here about the drawbacks or merits of physically disciplining children – although, frankly, it’s my goddamn book, and I have every right to, and it’s only fear of Amazon Reviews holding me back – but I will say that the only lasting lesson I learned from meeting the wrong end of that ruler (which, as it happens, was either end) was to fear my parents, and in particular, my father, as my mother eventually grew too apathetic even to raise a hand against her child. When the beatings started, and as they continued throughout my childhood and adolescence, he evolved from Grumpy 50s Dad – always sleeping or playing some weird porny computer game – to Terrifying Evil Dad, a man around whom you walked on eggshells.

As far as I know, he never laid a hand on my mother, for which I’m grateful. They had some nasty blow-out fights, to be sure, but they never turned physical. If anything, their arguments, instead of frightening, as they would have been for a normal child, were a source of fascination for me. I would sit on the floor of my room with an ear glued to the door, straining to hear every disdainfully-slung bon mot they hurled at each other.

I can only explain it like this: when they were fighting, the focus was, for a brief moment in time, somewhere other than me. I’m sure other only children can empathize; the unwavering attentions of a parent, whether for better or for worse, can be exhausting as a child. I was both the focus of too much attention – the beatings, the scrutiny of my behaviour, the reamings-out – and an immense amount of benign neglect. So for their cannons to be trained on each other for a change was a special treat. It’s sick, but to this day, I love to eavesdrop on a good fight, whether I know the participants or not. All my husband has to do is bellow - The neighbors are fighting again! - and I’ll come running.

As I moved through elementary school, their relationship didn’t so much deteriorate as it did flatline – my father spent increasing amounts of time either at work or on the computer, and my mother spent most of hers folded inside the big floral armchair in front of the television. They didn’t argue much at all, but they didn’t talk much, either. Most of their discussions centred around the administration of day-to-day life, and avoided dangerous topics like things they enjoyed or personal goals.

As a result, our family unit – if, in fact, it could ever have been called that – began to break down. When I was small, we ate together at a small, brown veneer table in the kitchen; now we ate on TV trays in front of the televisions – different televisions – in different rooms. They ate upstairs, I ate downstairs. Afterwards, we each retired to our corners. Computer. Armchair. And me to the solitude of my room.

My mother became increasingly shrill about this dynamic, though she failed to actually do anything about it. And I’d played alone for my entire life up until this point, so why would I change now? My father squarely placed the blame on me, as if we three comprised something in delicate balance, and my retreat alone threw everything off course.

“You’re the source of all the problems in this family,” he said casually to me one day, in the kitchen, in the same tone a mechanic might use when recommending you look into an oil change some time soon. There wasn’t much I could say to that. I felt somehow that it wasn’t true, but everything I’d seen and experienced up until that point said that it was.

1 note · View note

ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

[FN] After Ritual

(The events in this story follow the events of "The Ritual Pt3" at www.dorkerrealms.com . While I hope this story is enjoyable without that foreknowledge I very much doubt it will actually pull that off. That being said our podcast has yet to warrant enough attention for a patreon or other such place I could put out this story, so here it is.)

Day 1 After Ritual (AR)

I believe we have ended the world. While we yet live and little time has passed since we stopped the witches undertaking a ritual with potentially cataclysmic consequences, I fear our actions did not entirely save the world. For one an entire element seems to have been removed from our reality. All silver as far as I have currently ascertained has become lead. While this is a relatively small matter in the greater course of things I suspect we will see what has truly changed in the days to come. I feel like I stand on the edge of a storm front. My traveling companion and I have agreed to dig out the body of Willow, our friend who did not escape the church as it collapsed.

Day 3 AR

The excavation took sometime, little remained intact. Her ax was the only thing still in a single piece; her body would have been unrecognizable if not for that. Petra and I argued for a time as to what we should do with her remains. Petra spoke of a proper burial and I argued for cremation, as is befitting of any spell caster. In the end we compromised, the body is to be burnt and the ashes buried.

Day 8 AR

We buried Willows remains today near a small lake in a grove of trees. Petra wanted to bury her on holy ground but it did not seem appropriate after what happened, and eventually she relented. I read of an old religion that would bury a seed with their dead, as they believed it eased the soul back into the cycle of life or some such. I don’t know if I believe in any of that but the idea still has merit. I couldn’t find any willow seeds for Willow, but perhaps she will make a good oak.

Day 10 AR

Something is wrong. I can’t describe it but I feel my magic is somehow fading. Even the pages in my spell book look worn out and the ink is beginning to fade. Everything I know of magic says this shouldn’t be possible. I need to go to the Library, perhaps the others will know what to do, and if they do not then surely we can solve this mystery together. I’m going to ask Petra to meet back up with me in a years time.

Day 22 AR

I was told things were bad, and they seem to be getting worse. Many farms lay abandoned and more than once in these last 2 weeks or so I have come across corpses on the side of the road. Mostly they seem to have been made by bandits, however some of them are clearly made in a more primal manner and those are the ones that haunt me.

Day 25 AR

My lantern broke last night, and when I tried to cast light, I simply could not remember it. There is no mention of such a spell in my books either, but I know I used to know it.

Day 34 AR

All across this land people have been starving and the crops have gone barren as if from drought. Yet last evening I spent the night in a small hamlet that was celebrating their harvest festival, which by all accounts was the greatest harvest they have had in living memory. Part of their festival entailed a ritual to an old god of harvest that I had never seen nor heard tale of outside of this region. I swear by the flames of magic that guide all wizards, the idol rose and gave benediction to the farmers. I fear we are no longer living on the same world we once did, that my actions have somehow broken the world, or perhaps reforged it anew.

Day 45 AR

I was attacked today by some bandits...pssh more like desperate men starving and looking to feed their family. While I did what was necessary to protect myself I regret that it came to steel and blood. Curiously, when I cast shield on myself it did not feel quite right. Instead of an all encompassing pressure it felt like an invisible wall that shifted around in front of me, furthermore after casting the spell I felt an odd clarity come over me. Perhaps even more fascinating is that I could still feel the spell in my mind. Never before has a spell remained after I cast it, the very concept goes against everything they teach in the Library. I hope there are answers when I arrive and not just more questions.

Day 46 AR

I don’t have a shovel with me. While these men may have attacked me they don’t deserve to be left out and eaten by the crows. It took me almost the entire day but I was able to make burial Carins for each. I hope that they will be able to rest in peace now.

Day 47 AR

A man woke me with a shout this morning, and if I’m honest with a great start. Normally I do not sleep so soundly, I suppose moving all those rocks is to blame. He quickly apologized and said he didn’t want to get too close, what with me having a sword and all. He explained that I had the look of a wise man or perhaps that he had the hope of a desperate man, and that he wasn't sure which. It quickly came out that his daughter was ill, very ill and he was hoping I could help. I was hesitant, but decided I could at least look, after all I have read a great deal about herbs.

When we arrived sometime later it became quite apparent that no amount of herb-lore would save his daughter. She was in the grasp of some terrible pox, unlike anything I had ever seen. More curious was that no one else in the family had contracted it, and most curious of all he said his daughter had been sick for a little over six weeks. As I looked down at her drawn face I felt an intense guilt, not for her or her condition, but for my previous actions. Over a hundred children put to death for little more than a shred of protection for me and my companions. If the scales are to ever be balanced I must start somewhere. I gave the girl one of the potions Petra and I made, immediately she began to stir and the pox receded. They hailed me a hero...I’m little better than a monster.

Day 48 AR

I could not be away quickly enough. The night was filled with terrors and in the morning they insisted I was a great man for what I did. They tried to give me what little they had. I convinced them they needed it more than I. After all what good was saving that girl if she just starves tomorrow.

Day 62 AR

When I opened my spell book this morning many of the pages were simply blank or faded to a degree of incomprehensibility. I tried to darken what remained but my mind could simply not grasp the words and symbols I had gone over hundreds of times. It was as if I was looking at some foreign language I had never seen before.

Day 85 AR

I have rode hard these last couple weeks, very hard indeed. I’m sorry to say my first horse I rode to exhaustion and death. My second broke an ankle today...at least I will eat well tonight. I will have to make amends to the farm I stole it from. Most of my magic has faded to nothing, yet that which remains feels entirely foreign to me. The spells remain with me able to be cast again and again, and often there are intense side effects from each casting. At least as far as I can tell these side effects are fixed for a given spell. Shame about detect magic, the side effects have become unbearable. I need to hurry to the Library and learn what the others have discovered.

Day 91 AR

I have arrived at Halfburg, the hidden village that supplies the Library with most of its goods. Halfburg is a hidden Halfling society that has had an agreement with the Library for time in memoriam. They sell their extra goods at cost to the Library and the Library protects them and offers them what magical conveniences it can. The arrangement has kept the Library free from all major political ties, and in return the Library has helped maintain Halfburg’s idelic sense of peace and secrecy. My relief upon arriving however was quickly blotted out by a sense of dread as I took in the state of the place. Many of the homes were burnt out or collapsed and all the fields lay barren. As I wandered the street in near a daze, a rock came out of nowhere and hit me in the gut doubling me over. Quickly followed by the scraping of running feet, I was swiftly surrounded by dozens of halfling who proceeded to pummel me into unconsciousness.

When I awoke I had been stripped to my unmentionables but my wounds were tended and I was laying in a small bed barely wide enough for me laying sideways, and my legs went over the edge and onto another bed. My belongings were in a small pile on a near by table that only came up to my thighs. Soon after I had dressed a well dressed but haggered looking elder halfing woman entered the room. She apologized for my treatment and told me had it not been for my spell book I would likely be dead now. Apparently a few weeks back a large contingent of the inquisition had marched on the Great Northern Library, and utterly destroyed it. I do not know if I fully believe what she says, but I can fathom no reason for her to lie to me.

Apparently some of the church’s soldiers have come to Halfburg a couple times harshly demanding supplies for the soldiers waiting in ambush for any unsuspecting “weavers of the dark arts” that might come back to the Library. Which is why I was treated so poorly when I arrived. I hold no animosity for the Halflings. While I might be a bit battered at least I won’t unknowingly walk into a trap set by the inquisition.

Day 102 AR

I look down on the Library from a nearby ridge...or at least what remains of it. It’s once high dome and seemingly endless corridors of books will now only remain in my memories it appears. Some part of me had hoped that when the term utterly destroyed was used that the secret places of the Library would have been spared. Yet in the center of the ruins a massive pit lays, as if the fist of some angry God had smashed through the roof and collapsed the floor that covered the secret depths of the Library.

I can not see any soldiers from here, but just the idea of them desecrating the corpse of my home sets my blood to boil. I shall go down there and try them with the might of my remaining magics. Either I will die or they will.

Day 104 AR

It is done, and a near thing it was. There were two dozen men guarding the ruins and burning any books they found. I set upon them with a ferocity and vengeance unlike any have even known, but alas neither of those things make up for simple numbers or training. While I laid most by the heels, the remainder brought me low with an arrow to the lung. Curiously the spell I was casting at the time still went off even as my concentration broke, killing the archer that had surely killed me. It seems there will be much to learn and relearn about magic.

As I reached for my last healing potion the solider merely snickered and batted it out of my hand. My legs gave out and I lay on my knees as he drew his sword. I knew it would be my end, and could only feel it fitting that I end there as the Library itself had. Before the sword came down however a rock flew seemingly out of no where and smashed the man square in the mouth, spraying me with blood and teeth. That was quickly followed by the scuffling of small feet as a halfing flew out of the ruins wielding two swords. They fought like a fury, killing the remaining soldiers in moments while looking like nothing so much as a wirlwind of steel. I could do nothing but smile as I tried to wheeze out a thanks for their aid in ridding the ruins of these vultures, but no air would fill me lungs.

“Ye are not look n’ so gud wizerd” said the female halfling as she came up to me holding, the potion that had been batted away. We talked for a time after that and I thanked her and she apologized for the rock to the gut back in town. Her name is Tulip Proudstock. Until the soldiers came and attacked the town she was known as little more than a trouble maker. Now she wants to become an adventurer, the notion filled me with a pang of sadness. In my experience adventures mostly ended in death and with less money than you started with, but maybe she would be the exception.

Day 108 Ar

I found the remains of master Torvoild Northwind, my personal teacher and the only wizard in the tower that had the patience to try and teach me. His corpse was surround by the remains of dozens of inquisition soldiers and priests in what was an extraordinary testament to magical might...and yet he was still dead. Torvoild was the closest thing I had to a father, this is a dark day.

Day 152 AR

I have been scouring the ruins of the Library in an attempt to find and bury all the dead, and preserve what little knowledge remains. From time to time some of the Halflings make the journey from Halfburg to help and bring me supplies. They are good but simple folk. I am grateful that Tulip has stayed to help for as long and as often as she has, but she says she is opening a school, or maybe starting a militia in Halfburg. I’m not sure which, maybe she isn’t either.

The nightmares have been coming more often as of late, and in greater variety. At times I dream of the crimes I hold deep inside, of what I did. Other times I dream of failing those in the Library, of what it must have been like to fight off the endless hordes of the Inquisition. Sometimes I dream of that day at the church and watch it all unfold again, unable to change anything...watch as my companions...as Willow, the first person I ever truly shared my knowledge with, dies and I can do nothing. Too weak to help those around me. So weak and so afraid of my weakness that those around me die to compensate for it.

Day 184 AR

I found my way into a deeper part of the Library today, deeper than I knew existed. Possibly deeper than any living Wizard knew. In it’s depths I had a vision of a man with a bleeding wound at his side and great chains around his wrists and ankles. When he turned to look at me there were not but flames in his eye sockets. However, no malice could be seen but rather an intense and comforting warmth. The figure spoke to me and offered to help me find knowledge if I offered to help share that knowledge with all who would use it well. He offers me power, power enough to change the world...in time. Before a bargain can be struck a wind blows up and the cawing of some massive bird can be heard, and the vision faded away with a scream.

Day 199 AR

I had been going back to that deepest part of the Library every day looking for the figure, and finally I found them again. This time we reached an accord after several hours of negotiation. He will teach me all that he can, and in return I shall share my knowledge with others. I, with his guidance, am to usher in a new age of prosperity. He calls himself Prometheus and I am inclined to believe him between what knowledge he has shared and the great beating of wings and bird calls that end each of our conversations.

Day 201 AR

Apparently the disrupted Ritual released the creatures energies and raw magics as an uncontrolled blast upon the Earth. Reawakening the gods and creatures of myth and legend. Magic is once again growing in power as it did in the days of myth, but it runs wild, harder to put to page, harder to tame. Gods are beginning to walk the world again, and struggle for power, looking for champions for their various causes. In a way I have become as much a cleric as Petra is. My god is a god of magic and knowledge, the fire thief. He claims to be the reason mankind has magic in the first place. Not the elves though, interestingly enough. I shall stay at the once and future Library for a time and study with Prometheus. There are some months yet before I am to regroup with Petra, who I’m sure will have had an interesting year as well.

Day 376 AR

I have arrived a year and a day since we parted, it feels so much longer than that. I have learned much in that time, both magically speaking and philosophically. I can never fully atone for my crimes and my failures, but I can strive to make the world better. I can try to be better.

Bin-Dell L Johnson First Priest of Prometheus

submitted by /u/DorkerRealms [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2JO2wXh

#Blogger #Story

0 notes