#currently listening to Fate & Circumstance

[teacups-and-saucers]

do you think hannibal did digital art?

cuz, what, is his iPad just for reading Tattlecrime articles??? even his appointments are on a notebook WHAT WOULD HE NEED AN IPAD FOR

[namika-saya]

Sctir and its multiple forms of love

After finally finishing sctir. I wanted to jot down my thoughts over the multiple forms of love shown in sctir. Bc there are A Lot. Some more healthy than others. Some more incomprehensible than others. Of course, spoilers ahead.

Familial Love:

.Han siblings : The epitome and exemplary example, the Han siblings have undying support and love for each other. The special thing about the Han brothers is that they're not just brothers, they're like parent and child. Han Yoojin raised Han Yoohyun himself shortly after hyh was born, and they continued to rely and put each other first until they were forcibly parted by circumstances. The fact that hyh is the ward and hyj is the guardian immensely helps their dynamic, as even with their differences hyh will respect and listen to hyung.

.Luire siblings: They're similar to the Han brothers and yet so different, just by a switch between the roles of guardian and ward (and their power levels). Riette is a born S-class, which means that she's unable to see things normally or have human empathy. Despite loving her brother enough to die for him, she has given him immense trauma in not respecting his autonomy and forced him to do many dangerous things that is pretty much abuse. In the end, they manage to find a balance, and Riette is still trying her best to understand Noah and have him forgive her.

.Sigma & Puppeteer: They're so interesting. One was borne bc of the other. The other can't exist without the one. They're each other's ward and guardian. Sigma allowed Puppeteer to gain sentience by continually pumping mana into him, while Puppeteer's efforts keep Sigma alive and existing. They care very much for each other and would do anything for the other.

"Platonic" Love:

. Shj & Stw : even if it's never explicitly said, their dynamic is like that of an old married couple where one is tired but used to the other's shenanigans. The Moon and its Eclipse. Fated enemies, but each of their stubbornness in staying human gives them an equal ground that allows them to care and respect for each other. Stw is literally one of the only two existences that shj can ever come to love.

. Shj & Hyj : also a lovely pair with a big contrast. The ordinary and the extraordinary. One who has it all and one who has lost everything. The man at the pinnacle and the man wading through the mud on the bottom. Hyj is literally the only person that sees shj as a human (at first). It's through hyj's love and care that allows shj to love life and carve out an existence for himself, for others to care about him like a human, and for shj to finally gain autonomy over his life. Shj's love and care for hyj allows hyj to be more confident about himself, soothes his worries, and as someone he can lean on without having to act as a caretaker.

"Romantic" Love:

.Chatterbox towards Jellyfish: now we're diving into the more unsavory forms of love in sctir. Well, chatterbox is obsessed with jellyfish. Some might say that is or isn't love, and both would be correct. (I jokingly call chatterbox an incel) Chatterbox loves Jellyfish, but he is selfish. He doesn't care about anything jellyfish cares about, he only cared about having her by his side. His attempt to turn hyj into luka peigya is disgusting, attempting to even modify his body surgically and put it in a glass cage. He's disgusting, only caring about his "revenge" and "love", neither caring about what the object of his love thinks nor if his actions make any sense.

Unconditional Love:

. Cresent Moon: this one's the most difficult one, especially if we take the difference between og cm and current cm. Cresent Moon's unconditional love should be impossible, but she manages it bc her love is inhuman at its core. A love that is equal for everyone, she will love you when you're at your highest and when you're at your lowest. She doesn't care what state of being you are in, and that love is no different than indifference. She will do horrible things to you in the name of love, as long as it's for the greater good. She is the cradle of Transcendents, just how many planets and civilizations have died indirectly by her hand as a result of that? Originally, she had a bit of humanity, loving people and still listening to them, but after morphing into a wish granting system she went mad from the wishes of those trying to live. What she did to shj mightve been the easiest way to save the universe, but it is unbearably cruel for her to try and take away his autonomy, humanity, and identity in order to do so.

All in all, the main theme of sctir is that love goes hand in hand with respect. Love without respect leads to disaster, and it is when one loves and respect one another can that love be strong enough to save the world. The end.

[sol-thorne-shitpost]

I am once again having a thought™ and I just went on a full-on rant to a friend, thought I'd share my thoughts with y'all to see if anyone agrees.

Yes, it's about Hadesgame Patrochilles, buckle up.

Currently reading the Iliad, I noticed that not only are Achilles and Patroclus extremely well-written in Hades (that we're all aware of, I think), but also that there are many many layers to their relationship and the one they have with Zagreus.

First thing that hit me while reading the og Patrochilles and how they're written is how drastically different they are in Hades compared to their original alive selves. They're basically each the complete opposite of what they were when they were alive: Achilles, once prideful, arrogant and impulsive, once his rage was appeased, now became wise, patient, calm, an actually good mentor to Zagreus, in whom he must see a lot of his younger self. Patroclus, on the other hand, once famously gentle and kind, became bitter and dismissive. That can easily be explained by the fact that decades and decades alone after death can drastically change someone. Achilles, so guilty about what his pride did to Patroclus, matured and became wiser; and Patroclus, because of years alone abandoned, lost his faith in the glory of war (and in Achilles).

They basically became the opposite of what they were when they were alive, because of years of loneliness and longing and reflecting on this war they were a part of.

BUT THAT'S NOT ALL GUYS. When you dig a bit (mostly by chatting with Achilles and listening to Patroclus ramble to himself), you learn that what made them mostly change, aside from the circumstances of their deaths, is their longing for each other, and that despite all that change, they both retain the ONE TRAIT that caused their deaths.

Achilles, even in death, remains unbelievably stubborn, unshakable in his decisions (or in this case, his decision to stay away from Patroclus so that he can rest in Elysium) until Patroclus (through Zagreus) manages to shake him out of it.

And Patroclus, ever so bitter and depressed Patroclus, remains deeply kind and generous. He broods there in his glade, but when Zagreus shows up, polite, just passing by, in need of help, Patroclus offers him what little he has to keep going.

It drives me insane to see that after dying, Patroclus is the one who became impulsive and ready to 'risk it all', because he simply has nothing left to lose. Meanwhile, Achilles, so scarred by Patroclus' death (caused by him and his hubris and his pride), is terrified of risking anything, because the one thing he has left to lose is Patroclus' place in Elysium, and he simply can't bring himself to understand that Patroclus wants to be by his side anywhere rather than alone up there.

And they could have never reconciled without Zagreus' intervention. Because somehow, Zagreus is a mirror of both of them, in his own way.

And because on top of being impusilve and stubborn (like Achilles) as well as kind and caring (like Patroclus), Zagreus is the one guy down here, the only one who fights against his fate with all his goddamn might.

Because he wants to see his mother. He wants to find his place in this world. He wants to be acknowledged and respected. So he fights, against the Fates themselves (by just being alive, he does, I'll remind), against Hades, to get what he wants. Achilles and Patroclus both succumbed to their own destinies in the worst way. Of course it would resonate with them.

Maybe I'm thinking too hard about this. But there are so many parallels to draw here! Think about Achilles, who practically raised Zagreus, instructed him in myths, history, combat and arms. Seeing this kid, a prince, gifted for combat, craving for recognition and respect? That would ring a bell. And Zagreus is already a dual kind of person, he's the red eye and the green eye, he's the Olympian and the goddess with a mortal father. He's rage and fierceness (Achilles) and he's kindness and generosity (Patroclus).

And Zagreus hates the status quo. In his own life, and in the one of others. He does this for multiple people in Hades (Sisyphus, Orpheus and Eurydice, Hypnos and Thanatos, Nyx and Chaos...), he just can't stand people suffering when he knows there is something that could be done. He rattles the house and wreaks havoc in his father's well-ordered world, because he knows damn well he's the only one with enough balls to do it.

The thing is that if Zagreus had never intervened, Achilles and Patroclus would never have seen each other. Achilles took the first step toward redemption by giving up his place in Elysium (his glory, his pride, what he fought so hard for) so that Patroclus could stay there instead, as a way of apologizing for what he did to him and atone for his mistakes; but after that, he was left frozen in his own guilt, refusing to try and think of a way to see Patroclus again. And Pat, well... He's given up. Like how he gave up on reasoning with Achilles back in Troy. So he just waits there, even he doesn't know what for. It takes this bisexual disaster of a god to barge in and shake things up, until Patroclus finally reached out to Achilles, gives him that message (risk it all), the last push Achilles needed to finally move.

So yeah I just think they're neat-

This concludes my thought™.

[bokettochild]

Day 8 - "Why Won't It Stop?"

Took me forever, but this one is one that I am VERY pleased with. Part two will follow in later days

Wordcount: 4,847

Rating: Teen

Summary: An effect of abusing a god's power is that the soul of the deity is now bound to Time's own, and sometimes it has more power than he'd wish. usually, he can tame it, but learning the fate of the worlds he's left behind have made him slip, and the deity is intent on purging their legacy.

Written by request of @sweetlemonad

-

“It’s not like heroes can die anyways.” 

The uncomfortable silence that follows those words is not something Time is particularly keen on learning the source of. The boys have all been in a rather good mood for most of the day, and currently Wind and Legend are trying to see who can outlast the other by remaining balanced on the rail fence that abuts the pathway on their right. He thinks Wind dared Legend or maybe the vet just got bored and Wind decided to follow. Either way, the elder is currently strolling along with his arms behind his head while Wind walks, precariously balanced and failing a bit here and there.. 

Balancing at sea and balancing on land are apparently exceedingly different. 

He’s not particularly sure who’d started the conversation, but he thinks it was Warriors. The man has been a bit more stressed than he’d like these last few days, and the worry that something bad will happen to them definitely sounds like something the captain would express in order to keep the rest on their guard. The sudden way Legend falters, perfect balance suddenly failing and sending him flailing, is more telling than the silence that follows Wind’s words, and he finds it only right to offer a steadying hand to the younger man to stop him eating dirt. 

Sky’s eyes settling on the sailor, confused, are just as telling. 

“Right?” Wind looks between the vet, whose caught his balance and looks at the youngest with pricked back ears, gnawing his lip, and the chosen one who won’t meet their eyes. “Wait,” the kid glances back and forth again, as though to be sure, “they haven’t, right?” 

The vet’s hand slips out of his own, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “Wind, did you receive an education?” 

“What’s that have to do with anything?” Hyrule asks, sounding a little miffed. They all know the boy’s lack of formal teaching is a bit of a sore spot considering the apparent circumstances of everyone else. Had he the right, Time would maybe let slip that the captain was entirely illiterate before his enlistment, but he’s not sure that exposing that would actually help anyone. 

Their chosen hero and vet share a glance at the question though, some silent conversation slipping between them for a moment before Sky gives an encouraging look that seems to indicate Legend ought to be the one to handle this. It makes sense, he supposes, considering Legend is the one with purportedly the best education out of them, or at least the most up to date between himself and Sky. 

  “Alright,” the pink haired hero slips down to a seated position on the rail fence, and the rest of them take the cue to stop, themselves sitting or leaning against the railing as well, save the captain, who stands at something almost like parade rest as he listens. “So, I suppose it’s lost to time for most of you, but there was a hero- a couple actually, who fell to the enemy.” 

“How?” Hyrule demands. “I thought our whole existence was based off some heavenly power calling us so evil was always stopped?” 

Murmurs of agreement sound from the rest, but the vet shakes his head, although he’s also very clearly avoiding eye contact. “I wish it was that straight forwards. No, actually, there are two heroes, to my knowledge and as of my era, that are quite famous for dying in their efforts against evil.” Dark eyes lift to Sky. “One was the first hero, the one who fought beside Hylia herself.” 

“Sky’s going to die?” Four breathes, utterly horrified. 

The boys almost all turn to their skyloftian but are quickly assured by a sharp ‘no!’ from Legend and a soft “not me, guys” from the hero himself. “It was my predecessor,” Sky says once they’ve all stopped looking so horrified, “the one who crafted the Master Sword and sealed Demise away, ages before my time.” 

“So you knew.” He finds himself asking, and his question is answered with a slow nod. 

“I did.” He knew about fallen heroes. He knew that the only other hero to exist before him had died. Suddenly Sky seems all the more brave to the scar-faced leader; he couldn’t imagine going into his adventure knowing all the others who undertook it had died. 

“The first hero,” Legend begins again, hesitantly, “is said to have sealed Demise away, but succumbed from his injuries shortly thereafter, leaving the heavens to call another hero after his passing: Sky.” 

There are a few hums, and Twilight looks like he’s half a second from taking notes. No doubt, the rancher hasn't heard this bit of Hylian history before, and while his pup is certainly less interested in the history of the kingdom than he is in the workings of things and understanding the dark magics, the dear lad is, all the same, what Mido would call “a nerd”. He finds himself smiling at the thought, watching as his boy absorbs every bit of the knowledge the vet is sharing, and what little Sky uses to back him up. 

“What about the second one?” Wild asks, staring at Legend oddly.  

Abruptly, he finds himself realizing that the cub himself has also died at the hands of the enemy, and though revived through some magic he couldn’t explain, the fact that it happened at all means that he too belongs on Legend’s list. Would that mean that the vet follows after the champion in the course of things then? Good gracious, would that make Legend the same to Wild as Wild is to Twilight? As Twilight is to him? 

The vet, unknowing of their leader’s thoughts, drops his gaze a bit, fiddling with the bracelet on his hand but eyes clearly on the mark of the triforce he still bears on his left hand, just as most of them do. “He was my predecessor.” 

Deku Tree bless, is he right? 

  “A hero called from the forest and trained to the blade since childhood, only to fall when forced to face Ganon.” The vet’s face twists up in something between sorrow and frustration. “He was prepared the best anyone could try, but for nothing. Ganon ruled Hyrule for almost a decade before the rebellion that sent the fallen hero managed to amass enough power to strike again and seal him into the sacred realm.” There’s a pause where Legend takes a heavy breath that’s neither sigh nor resignation, but maybe just the slightest bit sorrow for their fallen brother, and the rest keep quiet for it too, as though in mourning for a hero they’ve never met. But that’s when the vet says it. “If not for the sages and Skeik, I’d never have gotten a chance to defeat the monster that killed my predecessor, but with the aid of the Hylian Knights, they managed to seal him away for nearly four-hundred years.” 

Sheik. 

He knows, from the war, from meeting Warriors and watching people of all eras amass, that Sheik isn’t especial to his own time. The captain’s own princess had taken on the disguise herself in order to take a more active role on the front lines, but even so, the name catches him off guard, as does the association with the sages, which he’s only ever heard Wind talk of before. 

The sailor doesn’t miss the reference either, the sharp little whip that he is. “What were the sages called? Do you know?” 

The vet blinks, staring and clearly confused, but rattles them off all the same. “Zelda, Impa, Nabooru, Saria, Ruto, Daruna, and Rauru?” 

The sailor nods, but the ground feels like it’s being swept out from under Time’s feet as the words sink in and that sunshine bright gaze is turned to him. Wind already has some eager words on his lips before his face falls, horror written across it as the truth of the vet’s words sinks in fully. “Holy shit.”  

By virtue of simply not wanting to be met with the captain’s ire, he keeps the loud cursing within his own head internal, rather than letting it escape and being fixed under The Look. Even so, he’s half a second from slipping and repeating the sailor’s words in far more colorful language.  

“Time...” Wind’s eyes are growing somehow wider, as though they weren’t just a bit too big to begin with, “....oh crap.” 

It’s Twilight that makes the connection first, he thinks. He knows his story is forgotten to the world he’d returned to, the one the rancher is a product of, but if there’s one thing his pup is, it’s clever. Picking up on the clues in the exchange as well as what Legend’s said up to now, he can see for himself as realization dawns in midnight blue eyes and Twilight’s face falls. “Sweet Ordonia.” 

“What?” Legend asks, glancing about between them, just the same as the others, save Hyrule who looks like he’s rethinking some matter of his own, no doubt what little history has been passed to him now bears reviewing. That doesn’t matter to the rest of them however, because those who know are now gaping, those who don’t are demanding answers, and the captain, who’d met two of the sages for himself and heard their tales, is shaking his head with a sigh. 

Time did not sign up for this. Learning that’s he’d split time is one thing, but knowing that somehow, in some way, he’d done so to the extent that not only are his fears about creating multiple timelines actually a reality, but apparently there’s one that spun so far off that not only had he failed, but he’d died at Ganon’s hand and left the burden of defeating the demon to someone else. Two timelines, each resulting in a child being called to do a man’s work, just the same as he had. How old was Legend? Was he the same age as both he and Wind had been? Older? Does he resent the man who left him behind as some people in the sailor’s time do? Like Wind, does he respect his predecessor? Despise him? Curse him? Praise him? His thoughts are spinning and despite not using it, his right eye throbs. 

As though sensing his distress, the deity awakens. 

It doesn’t happen often. Without the mask, it isn’t nearly as powerful as to accomplish what they can with the aid of the power of the thing. Since abusing its power as a youth though, their magics are enough interlocked, souls enough intertwined, that even removing the cursed thing does not fully displace the deity’s presence from his mind. It is a silent thing at most times, but much like the mask it is sourced from, it awakens when he is in greatest need or fear, and more than once he’s allowed the modicum of its power that now lies bound to his own soul to overtake him in order to escape one situation or another. Such power does not present itself now, but the rumbling voice and the accompanying pulsing pain is enough to shift his focus towards quieting both, attention slipping from his boys and inward to the deity. 

Despite managing to gather himself and the boys, to start forwards again on the path, he does not manage to silence the deity. He does, however, manage to ignore it for the time being. 

He can only ignore it for so long though. 

Sitting on watch after the boys have all gone to sleep, the rumbling thunder of the deity becomes impossible to ignore in the stifling silence around him. The deity will not be silenced, and try as he might, he can’t block-out nor forget the words spoken within his own mind. 

“Failure follows in your legacy.” 

As though he doesn’t know. It’s been bothering him all day, and despite the rest who hadn't pieced it together asking, he couldn’t bring himself to look, to say anything it was hard enough just putting one foot in front of the other. Wind revealing the split in time had shaken him, but at least he’d known how such a timeline came to be. The vet comes from a world where he’d died. How many of the other boys come from a world, an era, split off from time by his actions? How many timelines did he create? 

How many of them have such dark fates as that of Legend’s own? 

“He is an heir to failure,” the deity growls, “a scion of death.” 

Time shakes his head, voice soft so as to not wake his slumbering team-mates. “No. He’s a hero.” 

“To a world that ought not be, that ought to have perished.” 

No world ought to perish, especially not because of the actions of one person. Still as he watches the vet sleep, curled up tight around his sword, the voice of the deity continues to ring about in his head. Turning his eyes away to the others doesn’t help though. The deity is truly set off and harsh whispers and growls sound, wondering, just as he does, how many of their number are born of his mistakes, his actions, in a world separate from his own because of actions he hadn’t realized the truth depth of. 

He’d turned back time so many times, in both his first and second adventures. Are there timelines born of each time? What of his time in Termina? How many timelines did he create there? How many had seen the moon fall and everyone perish? 

Time groans, running a hand over his face, rubbing at the scars and markings left by the deity’s power. Warriors would be so disappointed if he started scratching again, and the scars on either side of his face have finally faded enough to not be as noticeable as when he was a child. There's no mask to tear off, even if the sensation of one lingers as the deity speaks. He doesn’t want to wake up to the captain’s worried stare in the morning at the sight of scars made fresh again. He doesn’t. 

Still, he wishes the deity would stop talking. 

It doesn’t though, because of course it doesn’t. It hisses in his dreams, whispering as he watches worlds fall and two little figures, he thinks are meant to be Wind and Legend running about, facing the monster he remembers, as well as dark, shapeless figures he doesn’t. They look so small, so young, and despite his heart crying one thing, the deity hisses another. Where he mourns their innocence, the demon screams for their end. 

Come morning, he’s a wreck. He manages to go through the motions, washing up with the rest with water from a well on the roadside, shaving and running a hand through his hair enough that it’s not a total mess. The captain was always strict about hygiene and basic care of their appearances. They’re Hyrule’s finest, not to seen wandering around like vagabonds and scamps. Still, the motions feel hollow, like a puppet moving at the command of another, and it feels like a chore to get ready, to strap on his armor, to gird his sword, and to step out onto the path with the others. 

Wind and Legend return to walking the fences, apparently determined to do so until the railings give way to open country again. Usually, he’d find that endearing, a proof that despite everything his boys have faced, there still remains a childlike whimsical side to them. Now though, it means that every time one slips or Wind fumbles and yelps, he can’t help but look up and the deity’s words start up all over again. 

Failures. 

Never intended to exist. 

Ought never have come to be. 

Proof of the cruelty of the goddesses. 

It’s painful. They're good kids, bright young men and skillful, admirable, talented, smart, sharp, kind, and he hates that such dark thoughts invade his mind at the mere sight of them, at even the smallest sound of their voices. It's not their fault that they exist, nor their fault that their worlds are a product of his actions and his mistakes. They don’t deserve the deity’s ire for simply existing. 

Yet the roaring of that horrible voice in his mind continues, pulsing through his head and aching at the eye that the demon controls. 

He wishes it would stop. Why won’t it stop? 

- 

“Time, hey, Time!” He comes back to himself with a blink, head shaking slightly as he raises his good eye to find the captain staring at him. They’re still on the path, still just walking along, still with nothing and no one else in sight, although the rail fence is nowhere to be seen anymore and blessedly means that the two younger heroes are back on the path with the rest, back in their normal places behind him, out of sight and away from the ire of the deity. 

“Yes?”  

The captain’s face is creased with worry, lips pursed, and gaze guarded. “You blanked out.” 

Not blacked out, not fainted, not lost consciousness. No, it’s something rather different, and based off the familiar expression of the other, the soldier is well aware of what it really was; a slip. When stress or pain or emotion are too much, it happens. It’s been less common since he’d put away the mask for the last time, but during the war it happened frequently from overuse of the thing, the deity exercising control in the absence of his own will to. 

“I’m alright,” he tries to assure, careful not to look behind him, even though he can feel the worry from the rest, “just tired.” 

“We can stop for a rest.”  

The captain’s halfway towards turning towards the other, already drawing a breath to call a halt to the rest, but Time stops him with a hand to his arm and a shake of the head, eyes carefully closed to avoid the sight of bright blue or crimson. “Don’t. It won’t help.”  

Sleeping isn’t the problem, it’s his mind running away with him in a thousand directions, he doesn’t want it too. Sitting still will only make it worse. Stil, the captain regards him with worry. “Tell me if you change your mind.” 

He nods. He won’t, but if he did, he’d tell the other There’s no worry of that though because sitting still right now sounds like actual torture. Just sitting there, a prisoner to his thoughts, to the deity’s thoughts, to wonderings and fears he doesn’t wish to address now or ever; he wouldn’t wish such things on anyone. 

Except maybe Ganon. Screw him and everything he’s done to them. He deserves to be tortured by guilt. 

Warriors lets it go, but not without a final worried look, and every so often he can feel heavy blue eyes settling on him, reading him, watching for any tick or sign that e’s in need of a break. He appreciates it, and focusing on the captain’s worry is an escape, because the deity has nothing ill to say of the soldier, in fact, he thinks it might even respect the other man, not that it will ever admit to such a thing. 

- 

In some ways, it gets easier, but in others, it’s worse. Focusing on his pup, his cub, turns his attention away. He can laugh and tease and watch them tease each other. Having Warriors standing beside him, talking about this thing or that, about paths and courses of action, is almost soothing. Sky’s smile and warm laughter is a balm, and Four’s quiet presence an assurance. 

The moment Legend or Wind come into view though, even if his focus isn’t on them, or even what they’re doing, the growl of the deity rises again, a splitting pain in his head. 

They know too. Wind’s hurt expressions and confusion are clear, and while Legend doesn’t appear to care at first, after a few days of such treatment, the vet tries to pull him aside and demand what has him treating Wind like a plague. He's not even noticed that the treatment is extended to him, but they all know of the vet’s soft spot for the sailor. He won’t stand to see their leader, whom the kid respects and admires so much, treating the sight of the boy like it’s painful. 

But it is. It’s a rush of thoughts and twitch of his hands. It’s the hiss of the deity demanding he purge his namesake of all the dark twists it’s taken due to his actions. It’s images of children fighting demons and worlds falling due to his own failures. 

He can’t bring himself to apologize, because that would mean looking at them, speaking to them, and thus hearing the demon scream for their blood to right the wrongs they represent. 

Legend gives up in anger. Wind closes off, quiet and pensive. He doesn’t miss the veteran’s hand on broad little shoulders, a silent comfort when he passes by. Doesn’t miss the soft questions whispered from younger to elder, or the harsh glares from violet eyes as begrudging tones reply that they have no answers. He hates it but can’t do anything about it. For their own sakes, ignoring them is kinder than risking letting himself slip and do far worse. 

- 

When next they face the shadow, it’s nearly a relief. Finally, he can pour the aggression of the deity into his motions, into the swing of his sword and the roaring of his magic. He can let the demon loose, just a little, just enough to destroy and wreak havoc on enemies that deserve his wrath, on creatures who’ve earned his ire and hatred. 

It’s freeing. 

There’s no need to hold back, and maybe, just maybe, he let’s himself slip into the background, lets the deity have just a little more power than he’d planned. It’s fine though, it’s fine because maybe this will exhaust the thing, grant it the blood it’s so thirsty for, quench that hunger enough to make it fall silent again. 

Once the battle is over, and the deity silent, maybe now he can talk to Wind. Show the boy a smile and apologize, tell him he’s had a migraine that’s impacted by the sailor’s magic or some such thing. Legend or Hyrule might call bull on that, but maybe he’s willing to abuse the fact that Wind’s hero worship of him means he’s more likely to be believed. He’s not telling the kid the truth though, not burdening him with the weight of the horrible thoughts and impulses that wreck his mind, but he’ll give an answer that’s half true, give him something, maybe even sit down and talk about nonsense together to assure that he doesn’t hate the kid. He doesn’t. Wind’s a good kid, and he deserves the world. 

He just needs the deity to wear itself out. So, he drops his guard, lets himself fall to the backseat and lets the demon take the reins, sweep over the field with full fury and power unleashed, hoping to exhaust his magic enough that the demon will be silent.  Enemies fall like wheat to a scythe, a cloud of black and purple smoke rising in his wake as the deity rampages, blade moving uncommonly fast as he darts to the captain’s side to assist him for a moment, springs over to Twilight to aid him as well. 

The deity’s voice rumbles, laughing, savoring the bloodshed and reveling just as much in fighting beside their “true heir”, beside the “dragon of war”. He doesn’t understand that, not entirely. Still, he can guess what it means, and while a dragon does seem to suit the man he’s watched wield flames with the same proficiency as a blade, calling Twilight their “true heir” seems like a direct jab, like spitting in the face of the two other heroes that follow in his wake. They’re just words though. Just more words from the demon god’s mind. They don’t matter. They’re not his thoughts. 

Except that when the enemy is dead, when the shadow fled, when the battle over, those words still play in his head, an echo of the deity’s thoughts, and when he tries to take back control, he can’t. 

He can’t control his own actions, can’t control even his words, can’t do anything no matter how much he desperately tries to retake control of the body that’s stalking towards where their veteran is wiping his sword off in the grass, can’t do anything as he hears the deity’s thoughts echo around him, watching as his body becomes but a puppet to the still raging demon. 

“If Nayru will not prune back the dead branches, it falls to me.” 

He wants to scream, to say anything, to catch his own hand as it raises, blade lifted high, but he can’t do anything. 

Legend turns at the last second, eyes sharp and blade sharper as it lifts, catches the weapon descending towards him, pushes it and the strength of the deity away and slips himself back, flips over them and perfectly executes a helm-splitter, stopping seconds before their leader’s skull is cleaved in two, voice sharp as it demands to know what’s wrong with him, what he’s doing. 

The deity doesn’t care, simply springs back and away, Time’s body swinging his sword at the younger hero even as Warriors shouts something unintelligible and Twilight snarls something sharp, something terrified as their “true heir” rushes towards the scion of death, the heir to failure. 

The others aren’t fast enough to stop the deity though, aren’t strong enough to stop the blade clashing, lifting and falling and lifting and falling. He can see, although he can’t do anything else, as the force of the blows rattles up the veteran’s arms. Sees the way his teeth set and his body shakes as he responds, holding the deity puppeteering Time’s body off, but only by backing away, driven slowly further and further from the others who rush and hurry. 

Twilight throws himself at them, but the deity catches him by the pelt. All ire fades in favor of fondness as the demon’s thoughts turn sorrowful. He can hear them, a sadness that their true heir will have to see this, a confusion of why the pup does not understand their intent. He knows, if Twilight understood, that he would never condone the actions of the demon, but he can’t say as much even to his own mind as the deity lifts and throws their boy out of reach. Not harsh, not meant to harm, but fully intending to distance the boy from their fight, to stop him interfering. 

He flinches, as does his body, as the rancher hits the ground some yards away. 

In the opening left by the action, Legend’s tempered sword strikes, blood gushing as the blade rips free of flesh, but the blow does nothing to stop the assault of the demon In fact, it only provokes him further, and the little control Time felt finally fall into his hands is ripped away as his body returns control to the thing that will protect it, to the demon that will not let them be harmed. 

Legend is the next to go flying, but not with the care and sorrow granted to Twilight, and instead with blood dripping in his wake as the biggoron sword finally lands a blow. 

The shouts of the other boys sound, and there’s the snarling of a wolf beside them. 

When his body turns from the broken form of the felled vet, he’s met with the sight of drawn swords and bared teeth as the wolf launches at him. He’s not sure when or why Twi has shifted, but the teeth closing on his arm hold him back for a moment as Warriors throws him forwards as well, attempting, no doubt to seek some weakness. In the war, he’d learned to rip the masks free from his kid’s face when he must, but there’s no mask for the captain to tear away this time, and despite the affection of the deity for “the dragon of war”, the demon god still tosses the captain away, plunging through the hesitant and terrified heroes. 

Time’s heart drops when he realizes the goal of the demon: the sailor, eyes hard and blade raised, even as terror and confusion have the kid’s body shaking, voice doing the same as it demands ‘why’. “Time, what’s gotten into you?” 

The cry of his heart at the veteran’s fall echoes again as the blow of the deity comes down on the sailor, and while the boy dodges, he’s not fast enough to escape injury. 

Blood paints the earth, paints blue fabric and darkens crimson. Pain clouds in violet eye sand in the ocean ones of their youngest. 

A roar, like nothing the deity can manage, has him turning. 

The last things Time sees are Sky’s blazing eyes and the matching gleam of the Master Sword. 

[st4rsnf1cs]

Missed

Pairings: Commander Cody x Kenobi! Reader

Summary: your Obi-wan's sister, and Cody knocked you up in the midst of your secret relationship. And now he's coming to terms with being a father, now that he gets to hold his son in your arms.

Ganre: mostly fluff, a bit of sensuality

Word count: 1,713

Warnings: nudity (no smut)

A/n: this was fun to write, I love dad clones

“So you're dating my sister.”

“... yes General…”

“And you got her pregnant?”

Cody pauses, sucking in a deep breath through his nose as he nods, looking anywhere but at his general, and friend Obi-Wan.

“I see…” Obi-Wan trailed off, rubbing his beard before humming, placing a hand on Cody's shoulder. The clone looked up, almost shocked at the non angered touch.

“You love her?” He asked, and again Cody nodded. “Yes General… i- I love her.” He breathed out. It was such a relief to say.

He knew clones weren't really allowed to have lovers, but as soon as he met you, he knew you were the one.

You were a force to be reckoned with, the poor opposite of his General. You were snarky, serious and yet Cody thought you were the sweetest and most amazing woman he'd ever met. Granted he's only ever met a female jedi who doesn't really talk to him.

But you always talked to him.

He remembered when you told him about your conversation with Obi-wan, about a day prior to his confrontation with the man… boy was that vivid.

“Obi just listen for a second!” You shouted as you watched your brother pace back and forth. He was on a mission for a couple months, and hadn't really seen you minus your face, so when he came back to the temple and visited you, only to see that you were showing off a small but visible baby bump, and on top of that fact he found out it was Cody's?

Yeah he was mad.

“I came onto Cody! When you sent him here for some med supplies! We had kind of been flirting and I may have crossed the line between friendly flirting and seductive flirting and we- well- fucked-” you explained, grabbing your brothers shoulders as you grinned sheepishly.

“So we started dating in secret! I really like him so when you confront him and I know you will, don't kill him, please? He's the father of your nephew or niece!” You exclaimed.

Obi-wan sighed, shaking his head as he looked at you. “I just can't believe you'd be so reckless.” He huffed, and you rolled your eyes. “He put on a condom, but it broke and I found out the day we did it my implant expired.” You said honestly, but to you, it seemed to be fate.

Or the will of the force.

After hearing the circumstances Obi-Wan frowned, but nodded in understanding.

“Okay fine…. I won't kill him.”

-

You updated your brother and Cody on a lot of the stuff going on with your pregnancy. Unlike the Jedi you could actually have attachments as long as they knew it wasn't a clone. And you were pretty good and kept secrets.

The more pregnant you grew the more you started staying home, until it was actually time to give birth to your son.

You and Cody both agreed you wanted to wait to find out the gender after the baby was born, but unfortunately for Cody he was on a mission with your brother when your water broke and your labor started.

You did a home birth and had a doula. Not like you didn't trust the GAR doctors but you'd rather have someone human by your side instead of medical droids.

You had meant to call obi-wan, but your labor was painful, and long. But by the end of it you had a healthy baby boy, whom you had yet to name, you at least wanted to wait until Cody came back for that.

It had been a few days, getting used to the baby's schedule was… hard but you felt like you were starting to get the hang of it.

You were currently breastfeeding in the kitchen when you heard the lock turn at the front door. You smiled, and continued feeding, watching as Cody walked in, still wearing his armor which had been worn from countless battles.

But he smiled at you, and then noticed the baby in your arms. It took him a moment until he realized that it wasn't just some random kid sucking on your tit's… but it was his baby.

Cody's jaw dropped.

“You had- you had him without me?!”

You almost flinched at Cody’s tone if you hadn't learned to calm yourself when it came to the baby. You stood up, pulling the child off you for a moment as you pulled up your shirt, holding your son in your arms as you walked over to the clone. “Yes… I'm sorry baby. I tried to prolong it but my water broke fast and I was already in labor and in so much pain.” You whispered.

Cody frowned, he never understood the concept of labor, when he first found out you were pregnant he wondered. How? since he didn’t see the fetus in a tube. You had told him that nat- born babies are quite different, and grow inside of the woman.

“I’m sorry for shouting, I just can’t believe I missed it.” He sighed, leaning into your touch as you raised a hand to his cheek. “I mean if it's any consolation i got my doula to record a video, i had a feeling you might’ve wanted to see the process, even in my painhaze.” You chuckled sheepishly, before bringing Cody over to the living area.

“Armor off.” You ordered softly, and Cody complied, never tearing his eyes off the baby in your arms as he removed his armor. You gently held the baby out, adjusting his arms as need be. But soon Cody was cradling your son in his arms, in awe of the entire thing.

“I can’t believe this grew inside you for nine months…” he trailed off. He knew that nat-borns didn’t have the accelerated growing gene that made clones ready for battle within ten years, but none of that mattered to him.

Having his own genetics, well- his clone genetics, mixed with another's- your’s, it kind of segmented that he was just as human as you were. Cody smiled, warmly, pressing his lips to the top of the baby’s head.

You moved down to sit beside him, letting out a relieved sigh that you had a bit of a break. Cody looked over at you, wrapping an arm around your waist as he pulled you closer. “You okay?” He asked, and you nodded, resting your shoulder on his shoulder.

“Yes… m’ just tired.” You whispered, the exhaustion of birth, and baby caring having finally caught up to you. But you couldn’t sleep, not until the baby was.

But as you looked over at your son, your jaw dropped seeing how he was already fast asleep in Cody's arms.

“This little bastard has been so fussy with me these past two days, and now the moment he's in your arms he's asleep?” You whispered, crossing your arms over your chest with a pout. Cody let out a soft chuckle. “Well, this little guy just needed daddy’s touch.” He joked, and you grinned. “I think i need some of that.” You snickered.

Cody gave you a look before standing up, and you followed suit before walking to the nursery. He helped pick the room and the colors but you and your brother did most of the building when he was off working missions with other battalions without Obi-Wan.

“It’s perfect.” He murmured to you, and you nodded with a grin, watching as Cody gently laid your son down in the crib you had built, laying the baby on his stomach rather than his back before placing the blanket over him.

When your son was still fast asleep Cody walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you as he placed gentle kisses all over your face. You let out soft giggles, rubbing his back as you embraced him.

“Have you named him?” Cody asked, but you shook his head. “No, I wanted to wait until you came home for that.” You whispered, walking out of the nursery, closing the door behind you as you walked to your’s and Cody’s shared bedroom.

“What were you thinking?” He asked, and you hummed, changing out from your dirty, slobbed on clothes into something a little more comfortable. “Well I was thinking of something that represents him. That… or you could name him.” You stated, laying down in bed as Cody also worked on getting undressed.

“Really? you want me to name him?” Cody asked, and you grinned, nodding your head. Cody stood there, thinking for a moment before his face lit up like it always did when he came up with a plan or an idea.

“What about… Koen?” He asked, and you tilted your head. “What does it mean?” You asked, getting out of bed as Cody gestured for you to join him in the shower. “It means hero… because I have a feeling he’s going to grow up to be one.” Cody said, helping you remove your clothes before bringing you into the shower.

The warm water cascaded down your back and you hummed in delight, nodding to Cody to confirm the name. “I love it, hun.” You muttered, stretching your arms upwards with a sigh.

Cody admired you, his hands sliding onto your hips, before trailing upwards. “They got bigger…” He trailed off, and you raised an eyebrow, looking down at your breasts. You snorted, nodding your head. “Yeah- cuz’ they’re full of milk for Koen.” You snickered, biting your lip as Cody raised his hands, and cupped your breasts within them.

“Gentle baby, they’re tender.” You warned, but didn’t push him away.

“I missed you so much…” He groaned, sliding his hands down as he pulled you against him, capturing your lips with his.

You smiled against him, sliding your hands up to his hair before moving your hand to his cheek, your finger tracing the scar by his eye. He hummed against you, pulling back moments later. “You mean everything to me Cyare, and now Koen does too… I promise I will protect you both.” He whispered.

You nodded, wrapping your arms around him while resting your head on his chest, hearing the steady thumping of his heart beat… and it brought you so much comfort.

“I know Cody… I know.”

➺

Tag list:

Cody tag:

Tcw tag:

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[asterias-record-shop]

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Everything on this platform is 18+ unless said otherwise. It is not my responsibility to monitor the media you interact with, your media consumption is your own responsibility. All fics are for Fem! Readers and I use Y/N (which will not change -- the Y/N part.)

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[pawberri]

tysm for your posts regarding child safety it's very upsetting how much victims are blamed and how often dangerous behaviour isn't seen as genuine concern just because a bunch of adults decide they don't want to care and that children being on the internet is Bad and Annoying because theyre put in danger rather than focusing on the issues of the internet as it currently exists/how communities form around it and creating real support spaces for victims that arent Just fetishizing of the very trauma theyre struggling with

it gets hard to talk about and feel understood because the "stop caring im not responsible for kids" type of people are so often vocal and praised for that lack of real care your commitment to talking about such and showing Proving genuine focus on how to help those who have been abused is uplifting and very helpful people like you give me hope i will be listened to and cared for, that those who do care are plentiful and just not as loud

ty a hundred, and apologies if this is a lot - feel no pressure to 'answer' such an ask, just intending to express the appreciation

I've been seeing it repeated so much and it's so stressful and frustrating. People generally have given up giving general advice on how not to be raped or abused as an adult because most leftists understand that these problems are so complex there isn't an easy guide to avoiding it. We talk about victim blaming and how much of it is random chance, but somehow people can't apply that same logic to children. They give advice that is basically as useful as "don't wear revealing clothes" and act like it's at all useful. It amazes me how people in the replies of the one post I reblogged are acting like NOT BEING GROOMED somehow makes them experts on grooming. They have no understanding that luck and circumstance play a huge fucking role. If you have never experienced this, never researched it, never cared about it beyond generally disliking pedophiles as a concept, I beg you to fuck off and shut up about how to avoid grooming.

Like look at these comments and imagine someone with the same politics as these people saying it about rape or abusive relationships.

Saying "don't be a target" as if children are the masters of their own fate. Same with saying "my generation knew better!" or "lol just block people" or any other callous, self-assured bullshit. It's like telling someone who got lured into abuse by someone they trusted that they should have just carried pepper spray. It's worthless.

Let me say

1. If you were groomed it was not your fault, even if you put your age in your bio

2. If you were not groomed and did not have your age in your bio, you have not discovered the secret to not getting groomed

3. Many adults can tell when a 32 year old clearly knows absolutely nothing about the adult world, and children are just at an obvious intellectual and expirential disadvantage in keeping up this rouse

4. Pedophilia is not as clear-cut as people think, and many people who would willingly abuse trusting, vulnerable adults would happily move to abusing teenagers. People seeking power will manipulate you if they can, and children are easier to manipulate. Someone might start dating an extremely childlike adult and shrug off the realization they are underage because they don't give a fuck who they're getting their power fix from even if they didn't figure out they were speaking to a child.

5. Adults dating teenagers was and is extremely normalized in many parts of the world (and many subcultures) and no amount of internet privacy was ever going to save us from a broad societal message that pedophilia is just a may december romance or whatever

[for-your-comfort]

Hi! I hope you're still taking requests, but can I request a Knuckle Bine x hunter!Reader fic?

Reader is also one of Morel's apprentices and she participates in the fight against the Chimera Ants at the palace. But she's also secretly in love with Knuckle (he's oblivious) and she decides to confess to him in the spur of the moment mid palace infiltration. They just have this little "we might be dead by tomorrow so fuck this" moment, and confess to eachother and kiss desperately before getting back to fighting the Royal Guards. I live for life or death romantic situations and angsty/fluffy moments 😭

I love your writing so I hope I'm not bothering you! Kisses :)

Now or Never

Knuckle x Reader

a/n: i’m sorry this isn’t really what you asked for, i changed it a little to adapt to my current knowledge of HXH since i don’t want to do the chimera ant arc any injustice by putting an unfitting scene in.

summary: you’ve been sent on a dangerous quest with Knuckle and Shoot, and find yourself doubting whether you will even make it out alive. what better moment to confess your feelings?

warnings: injuries + blood loss (no graphic descriptions), bit of angst (but also comfort)

word count: 1603

A moment you feel most vulnerable in… Like your entire world is crashing down, and you’re so helpless, because there is absolutely nothing you can do.

What do you do at this moment? When you’re aware of how fast your thoughts are racing, as if competing with your pounding heartbeat in your ears. And yet still none of those thoughts are helpful, they’re nothing but mere, fleeting ideas passing through. Nothing you need, nothing to save you, nor the person next to you.

Your hiding spot is behind a few boxes, and so far they’ve been a good place to not be found. You listen carefully for anything suspicious, yet all you can hear is your own heartbeat, the irregular breaths of your friend, and the shuffling steps that must belong to the beast. You’re lucky to have limited it’s hearing and smelling senses during the earlier fight, or else you would surely already have been found. And given the circumstances, there’s no guarantee you’d make it.

You put a hand on the ground to steady yourself, and wince in pain when your palm touches the dirty ground. There’s a cut across your hand, that you hadn’t noticed up until now. You will have to clean the wound later and make sure it isn’t infected, if you make it out of this situation alive, that is.

“What is it?”

A hushed voice, barely even a whisper, is heard from beside you. You clutch your hand into a fist as your eyes meet Knuckle’s and guilt washes over you. Isn’t it so selfish to think of your own injury, when the person you cherish most is in much worse shape?

Your eyes linger on Knuckle’s once-white jacket that is all soaked up with blood, and just imagining where it’s coming from makes you tear up once again. He must be in so much pain.

Yet, nobody could have predicted this. Not Morel, when he sent Shoot, Knuckle and you out on a casual bounty hunt for a monster that has turned out to be a bite much bigger than the three of you can chew.

Not Shoot, who had agreed to it without a second thought after seeing the nods of Knuckle and you, who is now nowhere to be seen, ever since you lost sight of him somewhen during the fight before.

And certainly not Knuckle, who has overexerted himself, and gotten this beat up. His usual so energetic self is now slumped against a wooden box, sitting on the floor to your left. The sight breaks your heart over and over again.

“Hm?”

He asks again, and you can tell he’s getting weaker. How much blood has he lost? How much more can he hold on?

You can no longer hold back the tears now silently trickling down your cheeks. You can’t even remember the last time you felt like this, so at the mercy of fate’s cruelty as you couldn’t do anything but sit and wait for the inevitable end, since the two of you can’t possibly hide forever.

You get lost in the features of Knuckle, the deep lines on his face and his furrowed eyebrows. His usually so bold mouth, with lips that have their corners turned downwards now.

His big hands have always seemed so strong and secure, and even at this moment you long for nothing more than to feel them around you, and wake up to find all of this to be just a horrible nightmare. But his hands are tightly clutching the side of his stomach, and you know he’s trying to stop, or at least slow, the bleeding.

A tiny part of you hopes Shoot escaped and is seeking help in the nearest city, however you know very well that it’s hard to access, and even at your usual pace, at least an hour away. By now, that hope for help has pretty much died out.

You make another feeble attempt to use your nen ability, but the presence of the beast is still blocking it out.

You tightly clutch one hand within the other and press your eyes shut, before you feel a rough hand gently wipe your tears.

“Why are you crying?”

You shake your head as you look at Knuckle, and even more tears pour down your face and cheeks, some getting caught in Knuckle's calloused fingers, others spilling down to your clenched hands. But you will not speak. You will buy Knuckle, and yourself, as much time as possible. You will not make one single sound, that could betray your location to the beast. At least, that’s your plan.

As if having read your thoughts, Knuckle goes silent for a moment. He musters you with that look again, that one he gives you whenever you do something he disapproves of, or doesn’t understand.

“Once all this is over and we’re back home tomorrow, I’ll make Shoot and you those dumplings again. I know you mock and criticise my cooking, but it will be the best dumplings of your life-“

You interrupt him with a push against his arm, and he lets it drop to the ground with no resistance. He expected this.

“How can you say that!?” You hiss at him, “Don’t you understand? We might be dead by tomorrow!”

The salty tears rush down your cheeks even quicker as you angrily glare at Knuckle, still trying your hardest to be as quiet as possible.

A soft sigh escapes Knuckle as he reaches an arm out towards you, and gently pulls you into his mostly uninjured side. You simply let it happen, and close your eyes upon impact with his shoulder as you carefully snake an arm around his waist, the other wrapping around his other shoulder.

You can hear him taking a breath to say something, but nothing more than a quiet sob rips through the silence. You instantly pull away to look at him, your eyebrows furrowed in worry.

“You don’t deserve this. Any of this. I failed you.”

His voice is so quiet.

You shake your head and hug him tightly once again, this time with his face buried in your shoulder. You gently brush through his hair with your fingers to soothe him, as you lean in to whisper in his ear.

“You could never fail me. You did all you could, we both did. Then this is just how it has to happen.”

He lets out another sob as he clings onto you, his tears slowly soaking through your shirt.

You hold him tightly, silently crying into his hair. This is honestly the last moment you’d expect to be in when you would get to hold him like this for the first time, but given the circumstances, now there might not be any other moment for this in the future…

“I have feelings for you,” you start, “I have had them for a while now. I guess this might be the last time I get to tell you.”

At once, his eyes are on you, wide and startled, but not in a negative way. You’re happy to see some of his usual energy to be back, even if only for the moment, and that twinkle in his eyes you love so dearly has returned.

You can’t help but reach out to brush your hand through his hair again, your fingers tangling in his curls and getting stuck in the pompadour. Instantly, it seems like Knuckle is melting at your touch like soft butter in the sun. A warm feeling spreads inside your chest at this reaction, as if you swallowed the sun yourself.

“I had no idea… Why didn’t you say anything sooner? No, wait- aaaaaah! I should have said something!”

You cover his mouth with your hand, looking left and right, listening hard, in fears that his whisper-shouts gave away your location. You’re not out of danger, how could you be so reckless? But there’s not a single thing you hear, and you slowly remove your hand.

As you do, even Knuckle seems to sigh out in relief before you feel a calloused hand on your cheek, and Knuckle’s warm breath on your chin before your lips meet.

You sit there, frozen in shock, yet only for a moment. Your eyes flutter closed, your hands desperately grasping at his clothes for some stability, even when you know you must be the strong one in a situation where he is injured.

You two don’t let go of each other, neither of you daring to break the kiss. This wonderful, soft kiss.

His lips are chapped and dry, and you imagine yours aren’t any better. But still, you couldn’t imagine your first kiss to be any more perfect. For while you’re here, there’s no danger. There’s no beast out there to get you, no wound in your palm to burn in pain as you clench fistfuls of Knuckle’s shirt, and no pools of blood seeping through the same once-white shirt.

Right now, this might not even be the last kiss.

“There you are. I could hear you whispering.”

Both Knuckle and you snap your heads towards the source of the voice. And you see Shoot, looking at you with a warm smile.

You first worry that the beast might hear you, but knowing Shoot, he would never be so careless. The beast must already be disposed of. You two are safe. Knuckle will be okay, and you will make sure of that. You look at him, and the look on his face tells you that he has drawn the same conclusions as you.

“Let’s go home.”

[gozine-translate]

Terminally-ill Genius Dark Knight - 153

153: Hell Party [1]

At Eldain Academy, countless students, and excellent ones at that, are admitted every year. But if you were to ask whether everyone graduates safely, I’d have to say definitely not.

Since the academy trains students to hunt demons, and the curriculum is extremely demanding, many end up dropping out due to the excessive pressure. Even if they can become honored knights or wizards praised by everyone, most of the entrants are nobles.

These students have lived their entire lives as rulers, lording over others, most of them treating commoners like slaves.

Now, they’re forced to study in the same space as commoners, breathe the same air, and even team up with them. It can't be helped that many of them drop out despite their desire for glory.

Is that all?

When facing demons, before they know it, they realize their own powerlessness. Whether they hit the limits of their own talents or feel frustrated by someone more talented, such situations occur frequently here. This is exactly what Eldain Academy is.

Thus, feeling worried or hurt after listening to a such circumstance, Seeing such a thing, it's only natural that students end up leaving, creating vacancies. Therefore, Eldain has a solution for this.

Every year when about 30% of the new students drop out, They fill those spots with qualified transfer students

Of course, mainly, most of these are noble recommendations, so commoners rarely get this opportunity.

But, the possibility is definitely there.

'Moreover, in this transfer, the academy's admission rule of allowing only three students per family has been completely abolished.'

And, I utilized this and successfully enrolled all my units into the Eldain Academy. There was no reason to hesitate since this would be of great help later on.

'Allen and Hats, the twins from the Reinhaver family, will probably enroll soon. The admission criteria for transfer students were relaxed only recently.'

Considering Priscilla's personality, who dotes on her children, it would be strange if they didn't come here.

I just hope that the academy’s reputation doesn’t suffer.

Anyway, they aren't my concern.

If there is one problem for me, it’s the rather excessive personalities of my units that sprawled out in front of me.

Each of them is insane, and I’m in a position who has to control them… So what can I do? I’ve trained my body for moments like this.

From the olden times, for those who don’t listen, a good beating is the answer.

Sitting in a secret cafe in the inner part of commercial district, I began speaking to them as they looked at me.

"First, I welcome you all here. But before we get to further discussion, keep one thing in mind"

I said in a clear voice.

"If you defy me, you will be dismissed."

As if exhaling a stream of cold, white air. A chill, cold as a winter wind, swept over the units in front of me. They must have sensed that a tough journey had begun.

But it cannot be helped.

Their fate was set in stone the moment they became my units.

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

Noah von Trinity. The dean of Eldain Academy, was currently troubled by a number of issues.

The first was the recent darkness that had infiltrated the academy, the demonkin (Majin) [see note below] and the interference of the royal family. Lately, the first prince, Louis von Arkheim has excessively changed the power balance with his interference.

The "Foolish Emperor" Esteban. Her former comrade from the past, the emperor had already become a fool. He collapsed along with his lost wife. And Noah seemed to know who was behind this.

'The royal family.. No, to be more precise, you can say the culprit is the demon who infiltrated Royal family and made Esteban a fool'

The once wise emperor’s downfall and corruption, the one that instigated this was definitely a demon.

'But what will happen if that child learns the whole truth?'

This wasn’t about Nox. But it was about someone just as important as him, Someone deeply connected to Esteban von Arkheim, who currently ends up as a puppet ruler.

As Noah thought this, she shook her head. There wasn’t time to worry about that now.

"The demons are expanding their influence. There is news of more lands being corrupted, and people losing their minds and going on rampages."

The incident at the Avilat gambling house was the same. If Nox hadn’t shown up, the tragedy would’ve been much worse.

Though it’s frustrating for Nox that wherever he goes, a major demon appears…

'Well, it’s his fate. But…'

Noah, crossing her legs, popped a stick of candy into her mouth.

Crunch—.

As she swallowed it, a thought crossed her mind.

'What if he is deliberately throwing himself into the midst of demons?'

The idea seemed far-fetched.

Even someone as talented as her hasn't been able to develop a tool to track demons. She had skilled alchemists working on it, but there had been no success. This was why she hadn’t been able to hunt down a demon currently disguised as a professor at Eldain. All Noah could do now was follow the stench.

So there was no way Nox had some ability to track demons. Of course, there’s never a 100% certainty, but…

The thought still seemed far-fetched.

Therefore, Noah decided to keep watching him a little longer.

If. If Nox got involved in another incident related to the 72 demons? She should consider that he may possess a radar to find a demon. She will ask Nox directly when that time comes.

With that in mind, Noah finished her candy and got up from her seat.

"Anyway, the priority is to help Nox improve his skills. That woman… she will teach him well, right?"

Though Noah was the dean, she was terrible at teaching, which is why she brought in her friend. She hoped she could help Nox.

Before she knew it, Noah was becoming a dean who was devoted to her role as a teacher. even if she didn’t think of herself that way.

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

"Seriously, young master, you don’t look happy to see me at all! How can you be so rough with my poor ‘pretty’ ears when it’s been so long since we last met?! And now I’m not even just a maid for the mansion. I’m your personal maid! You should treat me more preciously!"

As expected, Rona de Nero was loud when we reunited.

But seriously, weren't you volunteered to be my personal maid? Why are you blaming me?

Absurd. I answered dismissively

"You’re noisy. And if you don’t stop talking just like Christopher, I won’t let it slide. Got it?"

"Young master!"

Rona fumed, but it didn’t matter to me. After all, I’ve seen this behavior countless times, so it doesn’t faze me anymore. Such a situation can't even make a light scratch to me, who know Rona well since I've seen her in this world twentieth times

Clatter.

At the same time, I can see a man setting down a teacup. A young man with rare red hair, red eyes, and bronzed skin. Another familiar unit, Kushan Adrian.

"Haha. Today's just as lively and warm as ever. Our ancestors teach us that a good ruler attracts good people and I think that's definitely true. Serving young master, is the greatest fortune of my life"

‘What? Gross…'

I recoiled, startled.

Kushan gave a satisfied smile, apparently under the delusion that the atmosphere among the units was harmonious.

I'm dumbfounded.

Does this really look harmonious to you? There’s no way the eyes of the unit I carefully recruited are that blind, right?

For your reference. Zitri is busy assessing the current situation. Her eyes are darting around is the proof. I'm not sure. She’s probably trying to figure out where to start and how to manage this insane group of people, this chaotic bunch of units.

Besides, she’s dealing with a penalty right now.

Zitri, who can handle Christopher with ease, can't bring herself to criticize one particular member of this party.

Rona de Nero.

Of course, while I wonder if she is actually a garbage unit that should be scorned, Zitri doesn’t think the same. Surprisingly, Rona has a warm side to her.

She was the only one who reached out to Zitri when no one else believed in her. And she even helped Zitri get along with other maids within and outside the family. So, Zitri can’t treat Rona harshly or push her away.

For me, it's a bit a shame.

Suddenly a suspicion arose. How did such harsh words come out of such a small, delicate-looking girl? Even I, who’s cleared the Inner Lunatic 27 times, still can’t fully understand it.

'haa….'

A sigh slipped out of me before I realized it. My eyes briefly met Zitri's, and I could see the dark circles forming under her eyes. We’re probably both dealing with similar worries, but she’s likely also thinking of me as someone to keep an eye on, given how I’ve been sneaking out lately and getting into all sorts of dangerous situations.

She’s probably thinking, 'The young master isn’t a ruffian, but he’s still dangerous.'

'Of course, the others are much worse.'

I quietly took a good look around at the units. To sum it up, it was a complete mess.

"Noo… hiccup! Husband… I really hate studying… of all things, why did you bring me…Hiccup….to a school like this… hiccup"

"Erina! Here, this is hangover medicine! Take it quickly!"

"Don't want! I don’t wanna eat something bitter…! Mmph!"

"Noisy! open your mouth!"

May is doing her best on the front lines, so Erina should snap out of it and wake up soon. Thank goodness. I couldn’t help but sigh in relief. Zitri had the same reaction. She's a maid who connects very well with me.

Even so, it was impossible for May to control a unit she just met.

"As expected, isn't the whole 'young master from a noble family' thing a lie? How could you gather such a bunch of people like this if you're not a gangster?"

That last comment was from Prim, by the way.

Whack!

"Ow!"

I smacked him right on the head. This brat's secretly trying to take advantage of the chaos to get ahead.

My mind became overwhelmed in an instant, but I endured with grit and determination.

'If there is a good thing, is that no one outside this room will hear the conversations happening here.'

But even that's not perfect. I can sense a strange mana around. While it doesn’t seem hostile towards me, it’s clearly testing me.

"For now, everyone shut up."

Since they were being so noisy, I decided to speak up like the ruffian I am. All gazes were instantly concentrated on me. I kept going as if it was natural.

"First off, I want you all to know there’s a reason I’ve gathered you here at Eldain Academy. Each of you has a role to play here, and you’re going to support me."

"Support…"

May clenched her fists with a determined look on her face. She’s clearly eager to help me. As expected, she's the only normal unit in our party.

What would I do without Zitri and May?

'I don’t even want to imagine.'

From the olden times, thinking about the worst-case scenario gives you hope. I was relieved that the grim future without these two wouldn't come and calmly looked ahead.

"Your objective….. What exactly do you need us to do?"

Kushan raised his hand slightly as he asked. I slowly lowered my eyes and scanned him and the others as I spoke. My words were slow but precise.

"There’s a demonkin (Majin) hiding here at the academy. A demon, and not just any demon, but one who’s made a pact with one of the 72 demons. They’re hiding their true identity and spreading their evil influence."

The chatter among the units suddenly died down after my shocking revelation. Their gazes turned towards me, filled with thick fear and dread, and an intense hostility towards the demon.

"Young master, is that… really true?"

“Yeah.”

I answered Rona's question nonchalantly. Then, I clenched my fists and added with determination.

"I’m going to kill them. And for that, I need you all to be here."

Their gazes hardened. Now they finally understand who they got under. They knew what kind of ruffian they were serving.

This crazy hell party has a very simple goal.

'To wipe out all demons, I need to build my faction and strengthen my units. To do that, I have to start by taking over everything here at Eldain, the main stage where the events unfold.'

To put it simply, that’s it. I’m about to enjoy my medieval fantasy school life…

Making friends…no, subordinates, monopolizing the academy’s key episodes and hidden pieces. Well, stuff like that.

just like a trivial game-like stuff? …. it would be something like that…

Of course, it’s the worst game filled with tough demons and nerve-wracking battles, but still.

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

Eldain Academy has many facilities for students, but none are as popular as the cafe 'Afternoon Teatime.' It’s located right in the middle of the 4th Commercial District.

Just a moment ago, a woman with a voluptuous figure visited this place. Astrid von Kaliud. She’s a longtime friend of Noah von Trinity ['Witch of Ice'] and one of the last surviving dragonkin, those who inherited the blood of a dragon believed to have gone extinct. Existence that known as the last survivor.

Astrid, with her orange hair glowing faintly, was staring intently at one place. The boy she had followed into the cafe. It was Nox von Reinhaver, whom she was meant to look after.

And she knew.

Nox von Reinhaver.

The cheeky brat already knew she was watching him. He had already sensed her presence and figured out her magic.

‘This is going to be fun, isn’t it?’

Astrid smiled. Yes, she was just as crazy as Noah. That’s how it is with those known as the "Four Sages."

Meanwhile, Nox smirked.

'So, she’s finally here. One of the current Four Sages, [Flame Mage] Astrid von Kaliud, who’s going to become my master soon.'

Nox had already figured everything out. He knew Noah would assign her as his magic instructor.

'Things are about to get interesting.'

Nox smiled.

How much could he squeeze out of this time? With that thought, Nox felt like he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.

Like a child holding onto cotton candy, he was excited like a child who had a screw loose somewhere. As if he had long craved a twisted sense of power.

Just like Noah in the past.

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

Note/Question

Can anyone tell me what "majin" translates to in English? You know, like in Majin Buu, etc? I felt "demon" would fit, but it could be confusing since "majin" means "demon person" in a more literal sense. Whereas in the novel "demons/akuma" and "majin" are different entities

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

Main [마인] = Majin [魔人] = Manusia iblis. Ada yg tau bahasa inggrisnya manusia iblis? Kayaknya kalau 'demon person' kurang pas ini '_'

Thanks

[retribution-if]

-> Demo (TBA)

-> Playable Trailer

-> Character Appearances

-> Vibe Playlists (Part 1, Part 2)

You never really learned to let go.

Did you?

Hello, little godling, are you here to seek out an exchange? What is the phrase those mortals say? "Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth"? Are you here to exchange death for death? How counterproductive, no? Though it seems that you refuse to listen to any sort of reason nowadays.

A pity, really.

I expected better from you. However I can't blame you and the emotional storm you brought yourself into. Afterall, having the man you called "Grandfather" turn on you and slaughter your family one day is an understandable thing to fuss over. Personally, I could care any less if my brother died. Your aunt and I would be just fine, frankly. Everything would be better off with one less Primordial, but really, does that matter now with the problems he helped cause?

Regardless, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Here you are, a child of barren nature and moving time, with the dagger of your wilted sister Spring, the sickle of your arid brother Summer, and the laurel of your decayed brother Autumn.

Now, tell me this, little godling.

How much blood must be shed until you think it's enough to satisfy your sense of naive justice? Until every enemy you'll make and have have their blood spilt and pooling by your feet? Until they are on their hands and knees, begging for mercy, for you to spare them, just so you can be the judge of their fate?

Whatever your choice is, I'll simply be here watching you struggle and fall, and drop what remains of chaos you choose to leave in your wake.

~•~•~

Retribution, He Cries is a revenge story set in the Dark Ages of the fictional world of [REDACTED] and other realms, and will be written in Twine. This IF is rated 18+ for heavy themes such as: talks, witnessing, planning, and execution of murder, mass genocide, graphic violence, graphic gore (dismemberment, mutilation, disembowelment, & beheading), body horror, blood, physical assault, witness, descriptions, and mentions of death, religious themes.

*Content Warnings will be updated when needed.

Customizable Winter deity—let your appearance be the last thing He sees

Command and control the howling spirits

Learn how to hunt like your siblings

Give head pats to your dire wolf

Avenge your mother and siblings—leave chaos in your wake

Romance or befriend 4 people that walk with you in this journey

Seek justice for those who have fallen

Don't forget to keep running, little rabbit.

◈ Despoina (Goddess of Magic, The Arcana, Mysteries) She/Her)

The former lover of the god of life. Your grandmother is a powerful goddess of magic, and the giver of it to her mortal disciples known as "Magi". She's been cast out of the Pantheon due to being blamed for her inability to stop your grandfather. Currently, she's been deem "mad" for her constant dreamy attitude despite the horrible circumstances occurring around her.

~•~•~

◈ Nyx (Goddess of the Moon, Peace, Strategy) She/Her)

Daughter of the primordial cosmic goddess Emmera and the [late] god of fate Karma. She is your cousin and a fellow traveller in your journey. For being the goddess of peace, she isn't a very tranquil person, often resorting to violence at every inconvenience. She holds a calm aura whenever she's around, a bit aloof and insensitive at times, though has a soft spot for loved ones.

~•~•~

◈ Sansone (God of the Sun, Wrath, War) He/Him)

Son of the primordial cosmic goddess Emmera and the [late] god of fate Karma. Nyx's older brother and your cousin as well. He's here for the same reason as you and his sister, though mostly just to keep an eye on you both. He has this underlying storm underneath his relaxed façade, but you know better than to provoke it. Often takes the more pacifist route in situations, an opposite to his sister.

~•~•~

◈ Ectorius (Deity of Art, Fae, The Forest) He/They) ♡

You never expected them to join you on this journey. A close confidante and dear friend of your sister, Ectorius is an eccentric and somewhat odd individual. Always blabbering on, and on about making his next greatest magnum opus whenever he can. Though despite how dramatic he is, they are extremely cunning, but he likes to call it "persuasive".

~•~•~

◈ Nakia (The Former Priestess) She/Her) ♡

Having lost her village to the same god she worshipped, her faith in the gods has diminished. Seeking justice for her people, she joins you in your journey, unaware of your origins. An astute and patient woman who is willing to risk all for what she thinks is right. You worry for her and her inability to pick up and swing a sword, preferring to use the way of words to handle conflict.

~•~•~

◈ Faisal (The Archangel of Justice) He/Him) ♡

A member of High Court, which is Malkiel's Fifteen Generals in Zion. He is sent down to assist you in your mission to avenge your family. You know him from your time growing up in Zion, one of your first and only friends after the tragedy. He's willing to lay down his life to protect you from anything, even if you won't do the same.

~•~•~

◈ Lilith of Locked Heart (The Sin of Pride) She/They) ♡

A demoness from Hell, and the personification of Pride. She is a Queen of a kingdom in Gehenna, and accidentally stumbled upon them when she was crawling out of a cave, bloodied, bruised, and broken limbed. Now she joins you in your journey to, in their words, "beat the bastard that ruined them", though you have doubts that it's simply just that.

~•~•~

◈ Abel (God of Life, Joy, Birth) He/Him)

Your grandfather. The catalyst of this madness.

◈ Horatio (God of Time, Wisdom, Change) He/Him)

Father Time himself, and well, your actual father. A scarred and grieving man that refuses to partake in your journey. He does not wish to seek the justice for your family, but instead chooses a more passive way instead.

~•~•~

◈ Emmera (Goddess of The Cosmos, The Unknown, Fear) She/Her)

Your aunt and one of the three Primordials. Grieving over the death of her husband, she has formed an everlasting rage towards your grandfather and grandmother. She has gone spiteful over the years, with a scowl and glare on her face.

~•~•~

◈ Samar (God of Stars, Childhood, Shepherding) He/Him)

Sansone and Nyx's younger brother. Traumatized and confined in the body of a child, he has gone fearful of many things. Samar is often found in the arms of your aunt, clutching a wooden sheep figurine in his hand that he refuses to let go.

~•~•~

◈ Malkiel (God of Aether, Order, Angels) He/Him)

One of the three Primordials and one of two of the oldest gods. He's the man who housed you and your remaining family in his realm. Your father and aunt often warn you to stay away from him whenever you can.

~•~•~

◈ Radian (God of Void, Bonds, Justice) He/Him)

Your uncle. You don't know much about him, since you rarely ever see him during family gatherings. A mysterious and stoic man, with a heavy weight on his shoulders and of few words.

~•~•~

◈ Blair (Goddess of Death, Grief, Funerals) She/Her)

You're not expecting to nor know that you have a grandaunt, and she's not the kind of woman you expect her to be.

[lovinglettersacrosstheverse]

Special Delivery!

We've got a letter for Louise Worth @mysweetlouise! And there's even some pressed flowers! 💖💕

My Dear Lou.

How long will you make me wait? Dancing on the edge of my reach with the one you know I despise most? I know you enjoy games but hasn’t this gone on long enough?

A part of me feels this is my own fault. Some form of punishment for the state I left you in. I wish you knew how much it has tormented me over the years. Knowing what was only a second in the world was decades in the mirror with Damien and Celine, I can’t imagine how alone you must have been. How much time you spent alone, trapped. The centuries we will never know. You did not deserve that. Which is why I don't understand why you keep playing with Mark. It’s not the same Mark, fine, but they all have that same seed of narcissism inside them that lead to our fates.

We could make a home in this new reality, if you would only give me the chance. I haven't made one without you yet, not really. There’s a building where I meet with others, unusual like us. I have a room with a bed here, but I do not rest. If you were here, it would give the old bed purpose and I would keep you company. The affection of Damian and curiosity to know you of Celine live on in me, memories of you that are not mine haunt me. Your face is what I see most nights Louise, before everything went wrong, the college days, the games, the late walks across the college grounds. 

And the look in the mirror when you were left behind. I don’t know which one is worse.

Please! I have been tortured enough, join me and we will make sure Mark receives the same punishment as I or better yet, ensure he can’t hurt another soul when he next feels the need. While I drown in the past of our fury and pain, he lives on free of his sins. 

I’ve taken a breath and a moment of reflection. This isn't about him. This is about you and me. And you deserve better than you have ever gotten, Lou. I want to be the one to provide that for you, we can provide a better life and a better future for each other. You never truly got to be the D.A. in our past life, but you can be anything in our future. Not just playing a role, a meaningless game where nothing matters as you do now. We can make something with substance that actually counts for something. But I can’t do it without you.

Maybe I sound like a fool. We haven’t gotten the chance to re-familiarize ourselves with each other in some time, despite how long we’ve had. You’re a different person by now as well, I imagine. I wonder how many habits you still have from the past. What new ones I could learn about you. 

When you tire of your current circumstances, remember that my door is always open and a new home of our own making ready to be built. 

Sincerely,

Your Ever Waiting Darkiplier

Well, there is one more thing....

I also found a torn paper in the mailbox today, it looks like a journal page? I'm not sure this is supposed to be here... but I think its for a Louise Worth as well so maybe i am supposed to deliver it!

It’s late now. I’m in my office, reading the most recent report from the Jim’s when the radio changed. It started playing this slow jazz and these memories came to my mind, unbidden. Damien's memories of you, late nights listening to jazz as you both studied for exams. A record you’d put on the phonograph that became his go to for focusing on work in the years after. The years apart as you all worked for your separate goals, when Damien would spend these nights wishing for your company once again. Lou.

You're not even here. I write only for myself, a page i will tear and burn when I have the chance. But still, writing to you makes it easier somehow. Calms me in these moments.

This body always aches, and I can imagine at one point the heart would ache for you. If I told you it still did, you would know better than to believe me, wouldn’t you? I saw it in your eyes the last time we met, your silent regard for me. You're getting wiser to the situation. I can’t fool you into thinking the Damien you knew is still in here anymore, can I? Nor can I convince you that being as I am, I can feel anything other than rage and resentment. Perhaps the resentment I feel towards Mark for making that promised future of you and Damian working together side by side once again is a form of love itself?

But it’s not even by his remnants you stand by now is it?

Do you have any idea what it’s like to be in a body constantly in a state of decay? I feel the pull of death over me constantly, trying to drag me away like a fist around my throat, never tightening more than it is but never loosening either. And yet you’re out there in your own new skin, where did it come from?

(Note from here to the * was originally all scribbled out but i managed to make it readable... though maybe I should have left it)

Do you want me to apologize for leaving you there? None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for him, I am trying to get revenge for us all!

And now you go and have your little adventures with that monster! In practically every reality, you two are connected in some way, you really think any Mark in any other universe is any different than the one who did this to us? This is why you couldn’t stay! You’re too soft, you weren’t angry enough at the right people. You are the exact fool Celine pegged you for that night, all those years ago. 

How did you get a new body? How, how, who did you take it from, where did you get it, why do YOU have one?*

I apologize. You know how this unstable amalgamation of my being can be. I'm getting better at controlling it over the years, but I still have my moments. Can you not lend a hand to an old friend?  Or perhaps those old tales you told Damien once were true, and this is my repentance for breaking a mirror?

No, perhaps you're right. And there is more to atone for on my end. You should not have been pushed out. I was blinded by the mission of my birth. Clearly I underestimated your strength and resolve, if the way you stand against me and the endurance of your soul is anything to go by.

We are still old friends, aren’t we? You were there when I was created, the first face I saw and even behind whatever cloaks me now, still the face I see in every mirror and reflection. What some might say should be guilt or softness I should feel at that is as all things, replaced with the rage of knowing why I carry you with me in such a literal way…

I wish to confide in you one thing Louise, that I barely confide in myself. There’s one other feeling I'm capable of that sits so deep within me it’s but a grain of sand in the void fractures that make up my sewn together soul. Fear. I am the living testament to their hatred and thirst for revenge. If, when I see their retribution through, then what? What will become of me? Will I have any purpose? Will I continue to exist at all? What will be left when there is no one left to despise? You are the only one I can think of to ask. How did you survive the void of the mirror for so long that you escaped? What feeling motivated you? What purpose?

I shouldn’t keep bringing up old wounds, but what else can I do as a living scab of a soul myself? It is only this mission that keeps this broken body together.

If you just let me in, I can fix all of this. Just let your old friend in Lou.

[1nm8translations]

1Nm8 Official Fan Book vol. 2 - 1Nm8 Team Trivia

I've translated the new information on 1Nm8's from the 2nd volume of the Official ParaLive Fan Book, including their team colors, information about their apartment, relationship map and more!

Notes and explanations about the translation from me are included in [ ] .

Disclaimer: This translation is made purely for entertainment and for easy reference. It will not include any scans or pictures from the Fan Book. I highly recommend getting the Book for yourself and supporting the series if you're able.

1Nm8 Team Profile:

A 3 person unit made of unidentifiable persons, lead by an overwhelming genius

Three people who have an extremely high affinity for Phantometal, capable of producing unique illusions. Their leader, Kei, used to be the center of VISTY, but withdrew from the group due to personal circumstances. Currently, the three members of 1Nm8 live under the same roof. The otherworldly atmosphere they create moves the hearts of all who listen to their songs.

1Nm8 Team Episode:

During Kei's time as an idol, he had a fateful reunion with Rokuta as the latter played a street piano. Having nowhere to go, Rokuta and Itsuki ended up living with Kei. Filled with sadness and anger over the state of the two who had their minds broken in the Phantometal experiments, Kei begins working to end the Phantom Live.

1Nm8 according to Buraikan:

Their strength comes from purity, but they have a certain fragility to them, as well. They're unprecedented musicians. Very intriguing.

1Nm8's apartment

1Nm8's share house:

The 3 live together in a spacious 2LDK where Kei used to live on his own. A simple, minimalist residence, only furnished with the minimum needed for daily life. Kei's room is soundproofed, and it's also used for recording songs.

Floorplan:

[The Fan Book includes a bird's eye view floor plan sketch with the rooms named. The following description is my own work based on the picture.]

In the upper part of the floor plan there's the entrance, with the WC to the left and the washroom (laundry room) to the right of the door. There is a small storage unit opposite the entrance.

There's a large space for the kitchen, living and dining area (open plan) in the center of the apartment. To the left, there's the bedroom, which is a long and narrow-ish rectangle with a bathroom above it, and to the right, there is an almost square soundproofed room described as both Kei's room and the Rec room. It has a walk-in closet.

They have a long, narrow balcony running along Kei's room, the living/dining room and the bedroom. There's 2 entrances to the balcony, from Kei's and the living room.

[The bedroom is described simply as "bedroom", not "Itsuki's and Rokuta's room". It was said or shown a couple of times, including in the comic in the fanbook, that the 3 often share one bedroom. Kei's room is probably the one he used while living alone, and where he goes when he's composing and sleeping at weird hours, as you'll see in the timetable of his day.]

1Nm8's relationship map

Kei → Rokuta: Beloved younger brother

Rokuta → Kei - Love!!

Kei → Itsuki - Trust

Itsuki → Kei - Gratitude for Kei taking him in

Itsuki → Rokuta - Raised at the same research facility

Rokuta → Itsuki - Someone who's like an older brother

Itsuki & Rokuta → Ryu - Raised at the same research facility

Kei → VISTY - Former VISTY center

[The relationship maps seem to show the minimal 'default setting' at the start of new teams' stories. For exaple, Rokuta's budding friendship with Ryu and Shiki isn't reflected. Itsuki's and Kei's conflict with TCW, or VISTY's grudge towards Kei, isn't either.]

1Nm8's Team Colors

Main #BDC3C4

Sub: #7AD49B

1Nm8 Members Individual Trivia

Kei

Itsuki

Rokuta

[beholdingbenevolence]

[HITHER] Us Against the World

"THAT is our SON?!"

Alone in their room together, Lady Fate and Depranir were discussing their current predicament… A new youth, grown in appearance but not in experience; one born from their blood and the darkness of what they saw as a parasite… Fate's tone in her words pierced Depranir into his heart, what he felt was a sort of attack upon both him and their child. His posture would flinch, a soft gasp escaping his mouth as he processed his beloved's reaction.

"I- I know that it was due to circumstance but- But he is still of our own bloodline…!"

"And you are willing to forget what EXACTLY it was that brought him here in the first place?"

"That does not mean he inherits its will! He came out of that egg clueless and innocent, fresh into the world not unlike other new youth!" There was no disturbance to his stance on this matter. Depranir kept his ground, heart pounding in both worry and fear. "He is still a CHILD; we have our responsibility to raise him as one of our own!" Lady Fate crossed her arms, her posture tilting slightly as she leaned onto her left side. Some things don't change with him, huh? It made her wonder why he even was given his old name in the first place, even if he did discard it later on. Was he even in his right mind saying all that? This new youth came from a hive mind beast!

"Depranir. Are you really willing to let yourself die on this hill? Just for something that could spell doom the minute our backs our turned? Do you even hear yourself right now?" Fate's gaze became daggers as her eyes looked right into the other's. "You may have had your points; we would not have lasted much longer had it not been for Pavavorey. But-"

"There are no buts!" With fists clenched, his voice elevated. "I am not going abandon our son just because of how he came to be and what it was that gave birth to him! The moment we let ourselves become consumed by this fear and uncertainty is the same moment we guarantee that what we fear will come to be!" Depranir's stance became firm. As much as it hurt for him to even reach this point of conflict… His beloved was overlooking so much. Why would their new son be damned just because of his surrogacy? Why should he be condemned to distrust and suspicions just because he bears resemblance to the beast that easily took out the colony's best soldiers in one swoop? He still holds Vegalian blood within him!

"I will NOT let your distrust lead us into a sort of self fulfilling prophecy!" Depranir would approach the door- "And if you aren't willing to let yourself be a mother and at least tolerate him, then so be it." -and slam it behind him. He would rest upon it, letting out a harsh, shaken sigh as the intensity of the confrontation would begin to gradually leave him. Why is it always that, whenever he had his concerns, no one would be willing to even listen to him? His hands would reach for the hood of his cloak, about to raise it over his head… Hiding himself within…

"Touch crowd, huh?" …Only to be stopped as another voice entered his hearing.

Depranir's gaze looked around before landing upon who was standing right next to him. It was Vyson.

"Wh- W- How- How long have you been there…?!"

"Long enough to hear everything." Vyson would give Depranir a quick tilt of the head, gesturing the other to follow him down the hall. The newly made father exhaled as he wrapped himself more into his cloak, the hood slightly around his head.

"I… I wanted to… I-I wanted her to be on my side. I thought she'd… She'd try and understand."

"She's Velvettan, do you really think it'd be that easy to sway her?" Knowing how many times the Vanguard have been invaded time and time again, he didn't blame Lady Fate for being so steadfast with her viewpoint. Seeing how much that clashes with Depranir's open heart? It's no wonder that such an edge would wound who is pretty much one of the most sensitive people of the Crimson Tartarus.

Though, as it has been proven, sensitivity does not equal weakness.

"Listen. Depranir. I'm not gonna argue with ya. Plus, you hold more weight to it than she does."

Vyson would receive a surprised look from the other. He… Agreed with him? Depranir had to take a moment to even find the words to say. And when he did…

"You… Were the one that warned everyone of what was coming. And… You're with me?"

A short yet hearty laugh escaped Depranir's charcoal companion. "Let's just say you've rubbed off on me in more ways than one. If Fate's not gonna take the time, I'll pick up the slack. B'sides, I've heard the kid's warmed up to ya."

It almost felt hard to believe… But, if Vyson was willing to help raise his son… Depranir had no idea how else to respond. But yet, he could still feel deep gratitude.

The two would eventually find themselves at a balcony overlooking the foyer. The former's eyes would land upon a lone figure roaming around below them. It was said new youth, endlessly curious about the world around him. He looked to be wearing some of his father's spare clothes, too. An inquisitive hum escaped Vyson as he looked upon the other…

"That's him, eh?"

"Yeah… That's him."

"He already takes a lot after you, you know?"

"Does he…?" Depranir would tug his hood a bit in response, a soft laugh being let out. "Well, I… I just want him to have the support he needs. It doesn't feel fair to either of us if I… Didn't take up the mantle of being his father."

"Does he have a name yet?"

"Ah- Um- Uh… No… Not yet."

Vyson let out a hum, taking a better look at the youth. Even freshly hatched, he still showed a lot of strength and potential… Strength in body and mind. He's able to walk with ease at this point and, from what he's overheard, the young one was able to understand Vegalian right from birth. This was a powerhouse in the making…

"…Goliath." Depranir looked to Vyson as soon as the latter spoke again. "The kid has a lot going for him already. Feels fitting."

The former would repeat the name to himself, a finger going to his chin in thought. It rolls off the tongue, it does feel fitting… But it is that very reason that made Depranir a little unsure. It almost felt… Similar to his old name; a name associated with power. Would the young one even accept such a name?

"I would have to bring it up to him… If he likes it, then… Then he'll be known as Goliath from that point onward."

[sanijoys]

Between Reality and Fiction

Chapter 3: A Dreading Fate

The moment you close your eyes, light shines through your eyelids. You slowly opened your eyes, trying to adjust them to the bright light.

'What the...'

Your initial confusion deepened as you took in your surroundings. You were inside a white void—a completely featureless void that expanded infinitely in all directions. This was a stark contrast to the bustling market that you were previously in.

"I really, really hope this is just a dream; if not, I hope I am unknowingly on drugs," you muttered to yourself, desperately looking for an explanation for your current predicament.

As you grapple with the little sanity you have, something unexpected unfolds before your eyes. A pink orb morphs itself in front of you. A scream came out of your mouth.

"What the f**k!" Your heart raced as your scream echoed through the empty void.

At that moment, you were so disoriented, until the pink orb started to shift into a small, adorable creature. The creature's presence only added to the strangeness of the situation (and your depleting sanity).

The surrealness of the situation continued to wash over you as you stared at the pink, creature-like being. You couldn’t help but make a comparison to Mew from Pokemon, but the absurdity of the moment left you grappling for words.

"Hello, I'm Maomao; you must be Y/N, correct?" said the creature, or Maomao, as it introduced itself cheerfully to you.

Looking blankly at Maomao, you unconsciously nod while also taking note. You confirm that you are indeed on drugs. Hopefully.

"Where... where am I?" you asked, trying to calm yourself as you knew that there was nothing you could get if you just continued to panic. But you couldn't help but voice your bewilderment as your gaze fixed on the curious creature before you.

Maomao's eyes sparkled with a childlike innocence as it responded, "You are in your dream space, Y/N. Or, as I like to call it, 'Home space.'"

Your mind raced to comprehend the bizarre circumstances that you found yourself in. "So, I'm in a dream? So, you're telling me this is all a dream, and I'll wake up in my cozy apartment any moment now?"

Maomao's expression remained unchanged, her demeanor patient. "I'm afraid not, Y/N. You see, this is more than just a dream. You are now part of a 'Game-like System' that is connected to the manhwa you were last reading."

Memories of you reading the last manhwa you read before you came here You felt a mixture of anxiety and dread about your current situation.

"So, you're saying I'm inside the manhwa I last read? 'Return of the Blooming Plade', right?" Y/N inquired, seeking clarification.

Maomao nodded once again. "'Return of the Blossoming Blade,' yes. As I was saying, in this 'Game-like System,' you have a mission to fulfill, Y/N."

Your eyes widened as you listened to Maomao's explanation. A mission? You had barely wrapped your head around the idea of being inside a manhwa, and now you were being tasked with something even more bewildering.

Before you could delve further into the details, you interrupted Maomao with a pressing question. "Wait! What about my home? My family? Send me back! I don’t want anything to do with this mission you talked about!

Maomao hesitated for a moment. "I unfortunately cannot do that. To return home, you must complete your mission within this world."

You were in disbelief; does this mean you were stuck here unless you did this so-called mission?

Maomao senses your depressed state and says, “I’m terribly sorry, Y/N, but it is what the ‘System’ wants you to do.”

System?

"What... what do you mean the ‘System’ wants me to do this?"

Maomao looks at you for a moment, its round eyes filled with sympathy. "The ‘System’ chose you to complete this mission."

You wanted to ask more about this ‘System’, but as if Maomao read your mind, "However, if you want to know more about the system, I can only give you a vivid explanation as it does not allow further information about them to be known.

Your spine shivered from Maomao’s words; a nagging feeling told you that they were more than innocent words. But a subconscious warning that some secrets were better left undiscovered You chose not to press further, understanding that your predicament was far from ordinary.

"What would happen if I didn't want to do it?" You asked, wanting to know what would happen if you didn’t do what this ‘System’ wanted you to do.

However, the weight of Maomao's next words hung heavily in the white void that surrounded you. "You'll die, both here and back in your real world." The blunt and chilling statement echoed in your mind, sending a shiver down your spine.

Really, the fucking audacity of this "system" was infuriating. It had not only transported you into a manhwa world without your consent but had also imposed a mission upon you, with the threat of dire consequences should you refuse. You had also been thrust into a game-like system where the rules were unfamiliar and unforgiving.

'This...' tears filled your eyes. ‘This is so unfair.'

Frustration and helplessness welled up inside you. You had just wanted to enjoy a simple webtoon, and now you were trapped in a world of uncertainty and danger. The thought of facing perilous challenges and potentially losing your life was overwhelming. Very overwhelming.

‘Fuck them,’ you bitterly curse, ‘Whoever this 'System' shit. Fuck you.’

Maomao wanted to comfort you so badly. She understood why you would feel this way; your feelings were very valid. After all, you were sent here without prior knowledge and were only given two options for you to return home.

“Alright,” your sudden response startles the poor creature. You look at Maomao with a blank look and say, “I’ll do this stupid mission, as long as you send me back home.”

Maomao's round eyes blinked at what seemed surprising. "I'm glad you've decided to cooperate, Y/N."

Maomao tried to compose themselves: “Your main mission is to be part of the storyline of 'Return of the Blossoming Blade' and create bonds with the characters, especially the MC; this is only to ensure that the story will progress smoothly."

While Maomao was explaining to you the details of your'mission', one caught your attention.

"Main? You're telling me there are more?" you questioned, your voice tinged with apprehension. You had assumed that completing the mission meant you could return to your world, but the revelation that there would be more missions beyond the initial one sent a surge of anxiety through you.

Maomao, sensing your distress, tried to reassure you with a flurry of frantic gestures. "Don't worry! Don't worry! It's not as bad as it sounds!"

You frowned, trying to make sense of the situation. "So, what are these other missions, and how many of them are there?"

Maomao's round eyes blinked as she tried to find the right words. "Well, you see, there are various tasks you'll need to complete. (This made you shudder.) However, most are just simple tasks! Think of it as an open-world roleplay; as you interact with various characters, you’ll receive tasks for you to complete.”

"If it's similar to that," you pondered aloud, "does that mean if I were to complete tasks, I'd also receive a reward?"

The idea of receiving rewards for your efforts was certainly enticing.

Maomao nodded with a cheerful bob of her head, confirming your question. "Yes, exactly! Completing tasks will earn you rewards that can be quite helpful on your journey."

You asked what those rewards were, and Maomao graciously explained them to you.

“Rewards may vary depending on the task you are given; those rewards can be ‘experience’ which you can use to level up or coins for you to use in our'shop'."

What?

Maomao was about to explain to you further about the rewards, but you cut them off.

“Wait, I think I got the whole gist of this,” you were completely in disbelief right now. “So all of this has a setting similar to an actual game, then this'shop' has items or abilities I could buy using the coins? ”

Maomao chirped with approval, "Exactly, Y/N! It seems you catch on quickly."

You couldn't help but feel disbelief right now. The idea that you were now part of a game-like system within the world of "Return of the Blossoming Blade" was both surreal and daunting. The absurdity of it all was just too much for you to bear.

“Just to confirm another thought, could you show me this 'shop'?

-

‘It really is like what I thought...'

In front of you were various abilities, ranging from epic to legendary. Your gaze also went to the ‘Library’ where you can read about common abilities, which were just everyday chores.

Maomao explained to you that once you accept the mission, you’ll receive two free abilities of your choosing. You’ll also receive memories of the previous owner of the body that you currently possess. You couldn’t help but feel chills. Is it true that this way you have a background as an alibi but possessing someone's body? It’s dreading.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips as you absorbed the magnitude of your situation. You were not just a passive reader anymore; you were now a participant in the unfolding narrative of the manhwa you had barely finished reading.

‘I just hope I’ll be able to go home.'

“Just remember, if you want to know anything, just call my name! ”

That was the last thing you heard from Maomao when you finally opened your eyes.

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

This chapter doesn't have anything important other than giving you some insight into what you will do and some stuff.

I promise next one you will meet some people very important and part of the main story :D

[wickedsrest-rp]

The scream will set you free | Group Thread

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Downtown (Outside the encased Shelter in Place) PARTIES: Siobhan (@banisheed), Alex (@letsbenditlikebennett), Elora (@contemporarybardess), Ren SUMMARY:��The situation grows dire after one of the emergency shelters is taken by and encased in the goo. Four people -- Ariadne, Mack, Jade, and Oliver -- are still trapped inside. Siobhan, Alex, Elora, and Ren find themselves on a bridge overlooking the goo, and when they realize others are trapped and they have a way to help, the four of them save the day... and soon, maybe, the town. For now.

The more the goo oozed over the town, the more faces Alex found encased in it. Every time she saw one she couldn’t help but examine them and found herself desperately hoping the features under the mineral weren’t familiar. Maybe the nightmare of loved ones faces wouldn’t haunt her so much if Cass wasn’t literally living with the stuff. She couldn’t help but think of Nora and the crystals. These statues weren’t the same– at least she didn’t think so. It seemed a worse fate somehow, especially if they were alive under there, but thinking of them as corpses wasn’t a much more comforting thought. 

There was little Alex could do to fight the sludge. She wasn’t much of a fighter even in the best of circumstances even. Maybe desperate circumstances brought it out of her from time to time, but she wasn’t sure tooth and claw could do much against goo. So instead, she walked alongside Ren toward a large gymnasium space downtown that had been turned into a makeshift shelter for those displaced by the sludge. The tote bags she had on hand had a variety of canned foods and blankets that she hoped could be useful. She wanted to be useful. 

The little bridge that went from the university campus to the stretch of businesses downtown directly overlooked the gymnasium. Alex glanced down at her phone to see texts from Mack and Ariadne letting her know that they had arrived a few hours ago, but when she looked up, she instinctively placed an arm out in front of Ren to stop them both in their tracks. “Something’s not right,” she stated and moved toward the railing of the bridge. The smell of sludge was pungent in the air and she could see the crowd of people moving away from where the shelter once stood. The building was absolutely covered in the substance that oozed thickly down the walls. No. 

“Ariadne and Mack are in there,” she said shakily. Alex hated the sound of her voice in that moment. It wasn’t the commanding tone she found herself able to fake when there was an emergency to take care of. This was different. She felt defeated because what could they do? The sludge was already looking harder than it had moments ago while it was still somehow pouring through the blocks. 

“Stop,” Alex directed to anyone approaching from behind, “The area is going to be taped off soon, but it’s not safe.” She assumed it would be anyway. She hadn’t actually made any calls yet, but if she spoke with an air of authority, most would listen. Those who didn’t would see the sludge and hopefully gain some sense. 

Ren had been with Alex when the news of the ooze spread through town. The werewolf had got a message from her older sister and told Ren with such alarm. As if the nymph couldn’t feel the sudden shift of nature beneath her skin. Whole colonies of bugs were buried in that ichor. Humans weren't the only beings rendered still and silent by the terrible stuff. 

Renata Daryova wasn't much of a fae. She didn't connect to nature in the same way those raised in an aos si might. There were barely six hours a day she spent out of her glamour, and those were only because she had to sleep and couldn't control the magic while she did so. Still, she'd never been this cut off from the source. Nature was weeping, bleeding. The nymph felt faint. Dizzy. Distracted. As if she wasn't already from the stress of being separated from Gael, from her– 

This was a disaster. 

Ren didn't have time to be selfish with her skills. There were people that needed protecting. And Alex was already on that path. Ren would just have to do whatever it took to aid the other tiny redhead. (If nothing else, the bright ginger pair stood out like a beacon against the black. Not that either of them particularly liked being stared at. Maybe it'd be worth something, maybe it could be a good thing. If it saved just one person by pointing them in the right direction, then being perceived wasn't the worst fate.) 

A stifled panic straightened Ren's back as Alex made her observation. Big green eyes trailed the werewolf's gaze towards the place they were supposed to meet up with the other girls. The entomid didn't really know Mack all that well but Ariadne… the thought of her joining the sea of stone faces was enough to make the shy fae quietly reach over towards Alex's hand. 

"We– We rescue them, yes? We have to try."

When Elora had heard that there was a makeshift shelter at a nearby gymnasium, she took her time getting her supplies ready and packed up. Worm’s Row had almost been completely taken over by the sludge at this point, making travel nearly impossible. Part of her wanted to just ride things out in her ratty apartment, but she knew she’d run out of supplies or be overtaken by the goo sooner or later. Besides, riding things out with Mack sounded a lot better than staying alone for however long it would take to clear up. If it ever would. 

So, with a heavy pack in tow, she parkoured her way around the roof of her building until she found a patch of ground clear enough to move. Not too long after that, she found herself closing in on the gym. But…something didn’t seem right. It was covered in…something. Then, in horror, she realised. Mack, Ariadne, and everybody else in that building, was stuck in that goo. And she didn’t even have any assurance that any of them were alive. Her mind didn’t think, it couldn’t, her feet just started moving her body towards the danger, focused only on trying to save whoever she could. 

She ran across the bridge, and found two others standing there, also looking out at the gym. She could see rays of sunlight shimmering off of two heads full of auburn hair. Guess it’ll be the ginger trio to the rescue, Elora thought to herself as she approached them. She figured they were contemplating helping as well, and three heads would certainly be better than one. 

Frantically she ran up to the duo. 

“Do you two know what’s going on? Are the people in there okay? I was on my way to join the shelter, but it looks like it’s covered in that goo.” 

When Siobhan saw three other people on the bridge, she was ready to turn around. She hadn’t come here because she was seeking shelter, someone like her didn’t need shelter, she didn’t want these people thinking that she did. Inside her red wagon, cushioned with blankets and pillows, her dog softly whined in his sleep, paws twitching as he chased off imaginary squirrels. She didn’t need shelter, but as the goo spread through the acres of her farm, the curious creature soundly asleep in her wagon, wasn’t safe; he needed shelter. As she approached, she could see what had become of the shelter and watched crowds shift and disperse. She should have left too, but her grip tightened around the wagon’s handle and the truth settled into her: her best chance to get the dog somewhere safe was that damned shelter. 

Siobhan grit her teeth and pulled herself and her wagon up to the group. She recognized Alex, though she didn’t wave. The other child gave her a familiar chill, which only soured her mood further. And the woman was…alright, Siobhan was the most fine with the strange woman. It didn’t escape her that everyone else had red hair, and there she was, turning up brunette to the party. As the suggestion to help rose into the air, Siobhan rolled her eyes. She knew it was a terrible idea to come here. Her dog growled softly this time, Siobhan hoped he caught his dream squirrel. 

“And how do you lot plan on doing that?” Siobhan gestured, unamused. “That building is covered with the...” Siobhan winced. “…goo and even if you find some opening, you have no idea what state the inside of that building is in.” Siobhan gestured to the crowds of people turning away. “They have the right idea. What do you plan to do, Alex? And…child and…woman…” Of course, she didn’t plan on leaving either—she was desperate—but she also didn’t plan on letting any of them know that she shared their optimistic opinion. She thought she heard that Ariadne was in there and the sadness that gave her made her uncomfortable enough to be rooted in place. 

The situation was bleak. Alex knew as much but she didn’t necessarily appreciate the professor pointing it out. Even this was something she could fight tooth and claw, it wasn’t exactly like that was a thing she was practiced at. Rhett had been the exception, not the rule, if her past actions were any indication. How the hell was she supposed to stop goo? She tried to think of everything she knew about minerals, but the abnormality was something else entirely. It likely had its own properties that were consistent, it was just difficult to know what those were. 

It hardened around people and was beginning to harden around the building. Alex pulled at the sleeve of the khaki green jacket she wore and racked her brain for any idea of what to try. Cass had mentioned before maybe using her lava to melt the hardened goo, but there was no way she could attempt that now. If she knew Aria and Mack were in there, she’d sure as hell try and Alex thought that may have scared her more. 

“How different can it be from other minerals,” Alex spoke through gritted teeth. She couldn’t quite take her eyes away from ooze flowing from the building and swallowed back the lump in her throat. She moved to grab some caution tape from her bag from the state park that she wasn’t necessarily supposed to have. She handed it to Ren. “Start taping off the area so no one else can get through. You’d think people wouldn’t run right toward the goo, but if working at the state park has taught me one thing it’s that there’s always someone who’s gonna do the dumbest thing possible.” 

She waved to the other redhead with a somewhat solemn look. “The goo’s taken over that shelter… Don’t know if everyone’s gotten out yet,” Alex spoke truthfully even though the truth tasted like acid on her tongue. She didn’t know this woman and she wasn’t exactly sure she was someone who knew there had to be something more sinister about the goo. “I’m Alex,” she said after a pause, “You might wanna clear the area. There’s some other shelters over in Deersprings that should still be goo free. Not sure search and rescue is really a volunteer job for just anyone with this shit.” 

The implication was there. Whether or not it was taken was hardly something Alex could really consider. She turned to Professor Dolan. “Haven’t figured that one out quite yet,” she retorted, “It’s not like there’s a guide on probably cursed goo. The people going the other way do have the right idea. So if you wanna follow them, go ahead. I’m not asking you or anyone else to stay.” 

She knew that Ren would stay though Alex wasn’t sure how much they could really do. She studied the paths the ooze took from afar and steeled herself against the pit of nerves that threatened to take the wheel. “It may be supernatural, but it’s still a mineral of some kind. Heat, force, or acidty of some extreme nature should be able to destroy or at least break it.” She began to pace as she thought over options, none of which were very good. She looked to Ren and spoke lowly, “Cass thought of maybe trying her lava before… I don’t think she’s physically up for that yet.” 

She turned to the others, “Anyone else chill about the fact the supernatural exists and know of anything supernaturally hot, acidic, or able to deliver an extreme amount of force?” 

Ren's mind was ablaze. Heated currents swirled her thoughts around and around, a tornado of possibilities and almost all of them grim. Another fae joined the small group and the nymph had to stifle any of her programming that urged her to take advantage of the chaos to dispose of the woman. She was pessimistic and scowling, that much wasn't too strange to Ren. Kind of reminded her of Darya and the ‘strict rules, high expectations’ attitude the older woman viewed the world with. 

This only soured the nymph’s mood further which made her all the more happy to busy herself with the caution tape. Ren didn’t even say anything, just nodded to Alex and headed off. Keeping her head on a swivel for anything out of place. Any signs of life inside the ichor covered edifice. The nymph was quick and dextrous, this kind of thing shouldn’t have even been a challenge. The only thing that slowed her, however, was the creeping dread the ooze seemed to carry. The frozen faces of those completely stuck, the frantic screams of those who had only stepped in it to find they couldn’t move their limb anymore. It was horrifying. But she had a job to do. 

A few moments later, the entomid returned. Dropping down to the bridge from a rooftop above. She sidled up to Alex, resuming her spot next to the werewolf. “Northwest corner of building is clear. Lights still on inside. Stuff is on lower floors outsides, but if we could… If we get bridge to the windows perhaps?” A pause, her solution was flawed. Marred by the same problem Alex was trying to find a solution to. “Ah but– would still need something to split bars over glass.” Ren bit at her lower lip. Concern was getting the best of her, and that wasn’t something she could afford. Too much was at stake here. 

The strange woman’s suggestion puzzled Elora; did she know of anything supernaturally hot, acidic or forceful? Sure, she was considered “supernatural” herself, but didn’t exactly have any tools to help in that regard. Maybe she could persuade the goo to vanish? At this point, it wouldn’t surprise her if the goo itself was sentient enough to fall prey to her magic. 

Anticipation and suspense filled Elora as she watched the more nimble looking woman go scouting. She seemed to effortlessly traverse the terrain, and Elora found herself impressed and a tad envious. Were their chances really so grim? Surely there must have been some hope, for the sake of everyone inside. She glanced again at her phone screen checking her text conversation with Mack. Her last message, sent about an hour and a half ago, was still showing “delivered”. A knot started to form in the pit of her stomach, growing quickly, like an all consuming black hole in her gut. 

She was relieved, then, to hear that there was still a light on inside the building and that there was some corner of the building not yet consumed by the all consuming goo. Signs of life were still present, but she wasn’t sure how long things would stay that way. They needed to act, and they needed to do so quickly. Maybe if they could get inside they could use some of the furniture to make a path to the bridge, like some high stakes game of “the floor is lava”. Of course, getting inside the building was a task to figure out in and of itself. 

“I don’t suppose anybody has a crowbar or anything with them? I packed for survival, didn’t think to bring anything but the essentials. And for some reason I can’t get a hold of anybody inside the building either, so they won’t be much help until we get there.” She paused again. She knew there were some good people in that shelter, she’d put her own life on the line if it meant saving theirs. “I’m willing to try anything at all”. 

“Oh yes, let me use my acid breath to help us…” Siobhan whined, gesturing languidly. She knew she was being unhelpful, it wasn’t in her nature to be helpful; not with goo anyway. If one of them was fated to die, then she could be really helpful. Heroics weren’t in her blood, altruism wasn’t a skill she cared to gain and by no means did she mind that Ariadne—the student that complimented her relentlessly and who was already dead and whose peril sparked an odd flutter of fear in her chest—was inside that goo infested gymnasium. “Yes, let me use my bridge building powers…” She rolled her eyes and then started rolling her wagon with her sleeping dog away. “Well, you lot have fun playing Goo Rescue Team; I’m going to be sensible.” With a wave, she turned her back to them and started down the bridge, opposite the shelter and the three gingers. 

The fae child did a good job taping off the area; the perimeter of the bridge was secure and no other stray humans bumbled around the area. Siobhan walked to the edge of the taped area, holding it up so she could duck underneath, when something on the horizon caught her attention. Well, ‘horizon’ wasn’t accurate, it was more like right in front of her. And ‘caught her attention’ meant she’d nearly walked into it. Siobhan dropped the tape and looked up; from a fissure in the ground, a swollen mound of sludge had silently squeezed through the earth and stood at attention. Siobhan stepped back. The mass burbled and more goo oozed from the crack, giving birth to an identical mound conjoined to the first. It looked like— “Tits,” Siobhan hissed. “Bloody tits.” She rushed back to the centre of the bridge, interrupting the gang of gingers. “Tits,” she repeated, gesturing at the goo mounds that cut off the exit. “Fucking tits. We’re gooed in right now. Can’t go forward…” She gestured to the shelter and its black, sludge shell. “Can’t go back…” She gestured to the imposing goo tits, which were due to burst anytime soon, she could tell; something about them was malicious. 

She looked at them. “Ideas. Now. What did you say? We need some kind of force? What did you say? Crowbar?” She pulled a knife from the pocket of her coat and then another. “This is all I’ve got.” To demonstrate the futility, with perfect aim she didn’t even have the time to be smug about, she threw the knife into a patch of goo near the shelter. The goo made her point as it absorbed the knife, encasing it with hardened sludge. “How are we going to get a bridge to the window? What? Can any of you fly?” The acid that poured out at the idea of flight was reflexive; another thing she didn’t have the luxury of reacting to. The dog growled again in his sleep; the dream squirrels were feisty today. 

Under normal circumstances, Alex would want to gain the approval of one of the university’s professors, but these weren’t normal circumstances. There was a good chance two people that she loved were stuck in that building and the thought of giving up made her stomach turn more than pushing forward. So she found Professor Dolan’s complaints grating, especially as no one asked her to stay and help. In fact, she had Ren putting up the caution tape for the sole purpose of keeping people safely away from the incoming goo. 

“Again, not asking for your help,” Alex snapped at the professor, “So please go somewhere safe and preferably out of earshot.” For her, that meant farther away than most, not that she was going to drop that one on Siobhan. At least the other woman seemed willing to help, not that Alex was sure how she could help. It seemed like she knew some people who may have been trapped in the building as well. 

So as Siobhan walked off, Alex returned her attention to Ren and the other redhead to try and come up with some sort of plan. She looked at their surroundings and there wasn’t anything notably helpful. There were some trees still standing and some old buildings with trash cans out on the street. Those would be flimsy at best. “No crowbar,” she answered, still scanning the area before she heard the loud exclamation of one of her favorite body parts. 

“I love tits as much as the next lesbian, but I don’t think that’s gonna help here,” Alex rolled her eyes, not fully looking over to see what Professor Dolan was complaining about now until she mentioned that they were now gooed. She turned to face where Siobhan was standing. Oh. The tits thing made a lot more sense in the context of there being two mounds of goo that looked oddly like breasts trapping them in place. 

“I never thought I’d be this disappointed for someone to mean tits literally,” Alex grimaced. She wasn’t really that upset that Siobhan now wanted to help their efforts, but part of her wished that the banshee had been able to get away before getting quite literally booby trapped. “I don’t think a crowbar will do much… and not so sure we’d be able to build a bridge with much integrity… definitely not now that we’re trapped here.” 

Things were looking worse by the second. It was funny. Alex had been worried about Cass being the one to become a goo statue with the stuff leaking into her cave and here she was essentially surrounded by the stuff. The mention of flying made her look to Ren as discreetly as she could, but she didn’t think Ren being able to fly over the goo would do much for a whole group of them. Part of her worried Ren would push herself too hard either way. “No flying here,” she answered, “Claws are more my specialty… which does jack shit here. Don’t think my Bic lighter is gonna get us a lot in the way of heat either.” 

A thrum of panic was settling in. More than the ire of being around strangers, being around another fae, Ren saw the metaphorical walls caving in as the goo got closer. The mention of flying was tossed out and it looked like an ever looming inevitability rather than a last resort. She wouldn't let Alex join the legions of statues. Wouldn't let anyone else on this bridge either, but if she had to choose, Ren already made her choice. Even if it meant the werewolf would see the nymph for what she was. Even if potentially many people could get a glimpse of the buggy monster that sat just beneath her glamour.

There wasn't much Ren could add here either. She had no magic, not really. She was spry, good enough at getting herself in and out of places but she'd always been a one man show. Working in tandem with others seemed cumbersome. Terrifying. Even now the entomid struggled to let herself lean on anyone else for support. It wasn't like she was going to camouflage her way out of this pickle. Nor could she fight it with the many many knives she had hidden on her person. 

"No weapons, perhaps… gas line? No we could not get below street… one of these buildings must have something we could use." Ren was scanning around, searching for anything at all that could be useful when another fissure ruptured. Spewing viscous splatters of the ichor. A hearty thwop resounded as the first hit part of the bridge, a second glob rained down and almost hit Alex on her shoulder but Ren was able to whirl the tiny werewolf away. Shouting "Watch out!" was all she could do for the other two though, as a flurry of blobs flung through the air. 

The somewhat older woman was proving to be…unhelpful at best. Each of her words dripping with sarcasm that really didn’t bring them any closer to their goal. If anything, valuable time was being wasted, which wasn’t a resource they had much of in the first place. Elora began tuning her out, so she almost missed hearing the woman’s complaints of very uniquely shaped goo formations. Sure enough, there they were. Very realistically sculpted goo breasts trapping them in place. Really brings a new meaning to “look but don’t touch” she thought to herself. Shame, she was really looking forward to the woman’s departure. 

Flight. Of course, why hadn’t she thought of a solution that simple? She was practically a bipedal bird, after all. Then again, that would mean showing her true form to a group of strangers, and she didn’t know if she was ready to take such a big risk yet. She had only revealed her true identity to a select few people in town, and only after they confided their true selves to her. As far as she knew, all three of these women could be perfectly normal people who would be horrified by her true form. 

She didn’t have time to ponder that decision much longer, as suddenly another big fissure opened up with more goo coming down around them. These ones, very sadly, weren’t shaped like boobs. However, they were likely just as deadly all the same. She dove out of the way of one blob that nearly struck her right in the head. As she was on the ground, she heard other areas of the bridge being pelted. When the bombardment had ended, she looked up to see if the other three were okay. While nobody seemed to be too worse for wear, they had a new predicament on their hands. Both ends of the bridge were now blocked off by the goo, effectively trapping them. She looked over the side rail of the bridge and determined it was probably far too high of a drop to survive. At least, for a normal human that is.

“Well shit, this really just went from bad to worse. We’ll have to forget about the shelter for right now. If we don’t break this goo, we’ll be stranded here!” 

She thought back to one of the stories passed around from her grandmother about the savagery of human beings in desperate situations. She told her of a Donner Party (which, given what ended up happening, didn’t sound very festive) and how they all ate each other when stranded in the mountains. Is that what would happen to her? Killed for a meal out of desperation? 

Siobhan wrenched her wagon out of the path of a raining goo chunk. It splattered on the ground and a string of sludge spread to her boot. Siobhan jerked, the goo had no give. She pulled her foot out and watched her boot solidify into a single mass. The amount of goo it had taken to claim her boot was drop compared to the perched tit balloons waiting to spew--a drop compared to the ocean of goo around them. Just a drop, and it had claimed her boot--a thousand dollars worth of genuine leather--so thoroughly that even she, in all of her materialistic glory, didn’t think about taking it back. To put it simply: they were fucked. “Are you certain that fire is effective against the goo?” Siobhan asked, mourning the loss of her boot with one short whine. She pulled the wagon close to her, still harbouring the sleeping dog that wouldn’t wake unless food was rattled or someone uttered one of several forbidden words, the most powerful of which being G-R-E-E-N-I-E. She was thankful his mind was so singularly focused. 

She turned to look at the gingers, whom she’d begun to think of as one conglomerate mess of red-hair. Something tickled the back of Siobhan’s mind; visions of the clearing by her house where she screamed flashed between their ginger heads. Despite the gooey state of her farther fields, her clearing was…well, to use an uncreative word, clear. To use a more creative one required more mental facilities than Siobhan was willing to spare. What was easier: hoping to find some sort of gas line, possibly blow themselves up, or a scream? She glanced down at her dog and the air heaved out of her lungs with the force of her guilt. Then she looked at the gingers and didn’t feel very guilty at all. Alex has said the goo was a mineral and she’d shattered plenty of minerals with her voice before. “Are you certain…” She tried again, looking at Alex, “are you certain that the goo is a mineral? That it can be destroyed?” 

She glanced between the other unnamed gingers, the child and the woman, “one of you take care of the dog. Cover its ears.” She pushed the wagon towards them and then addressed the ginger mass as a whole. “I have a proverbial pickaxe and…” Goo splattered beside her and she jumped away, hobbling on her remaining booted foot. “Excuse me, I was trying to give a delicate speech about--” More goo flew through the air and splashed around them. As she turned around, she noticed the twin goo mounds throbbing. She twisted back towards them. “I’m going to scream. I don’t have time to explain; perhaps it won’t work--in which case, it was an honour for you all to know me and bask in my beauty. Cover your ears, it won’t help much but it will make you think it does and the mind is powerful. Someone cover the dog’s ears, that also won’t help much but it’s better than nothing and I care more about the dog than any of you. Questions? Yes, I am always this charming. Ready?” 

It didn’t take long for Alex to realize that she should have just enjoyed the giant pair of goo tits while she could. Even if it was still goo, at least it was aesthetically pleasing because boobs always were. Goo rain? Not so much. Bird shit would make better rain than this stuff and it was flowing around them too. The eruption itself sent her stumbling into a lamppost which resulted in several splinters in her palm and her cardigan getting a sizable rip in it. She frowned down at the tattered sleeve. Alan had just gotten it for her as part of her capsule wardrobe and it was her favorite since it was forest green. She was also pretty sure the cardigan itself cost more than her rent. She wasn’t sure if that said more about her rent or the cardigan. 

Given how quickly things had taken a turn, Alex was fairly certain the situation was grim. She wasn’t giving up, she just wasn’t sure how much their efforts would count now that they were trapped with little to no resources to work with outside of the goo itself. When the redhead she didn’t know spoke, it was hard for the werewolf to not bite back that they already were stranded. It wouldn’t be helpful, not that Professor Dolan had been helpful even remotely up until this point. 

“Right,” Alex smiled weakly, “Gotta put on our own life vests first or whatever.” Except this wasn’t a boat and it wasn’t the ocean they were surrounded by. They couldn’t swim or float their way through. The bits that splattered through the sky like rain couldn’t be dodged with an umbrella they didn’t have. Siobhan’s boot had been evidence enough of that. Everything that touched the goo just became a part of it and Alex didn’t want to be goo. 

Then the professor was saying something about screaming and covering her dog’s ears. In how confidently Siobhan spoke and the new wave of determination that seemed to overtake her, Alex wondered if maybe there was something more to the whole screaming thing. That seemed too lucky though. “Scream,” she looked at Siobhan with a blank stare. 

Screaming. Great. The odd older woman must have been a banshee then. At least, that’s what came to mind for the scattered thoughts of the frantic bug fae. Ren didn’t like being trapped, the idea of being trapped in goo was even less appealing. While her face did not betray any of the troubled waters just beneath the surface, it was rapidly devolving into a whirlpool. 

The entomid turned, nodded towards the banshee and scooted even closer to Alex. Already taking a protective stance behind the other girl, ready to awkwardly fly them both to relative safety if she had to. And hopefully, to avoid being seen, should the scream mess with her glamour. It wasn’t exactly a feature of the powerful wail, but it sure was hard to keep concentration when your whole mind was filled with shrill screeches. Ren couldn’t help but shudder at the thought.  

Banshees were powerful. Feared creatures even amongst real wardens. Among the fae they were almost revered. Being so close to another one… well… It wasn’t a pleasant experience. But neither was any of this. 

“I would recommend listening to instruction, cover ears if you can.” 

Elora certainly knew the power of sound, and was also all too familiar with the piercing shriek of a banshee. While it seemed unlikely to cut through this goo, since nothing else has been able to cut through it, it was a better idea than anybody else had been able to come up with. If it was weak to sound, maybe she could offer some help after all? Not that her voice could compare in force to the powerful cry of a banshee, but it was probably better than nothing. 

Reluctantly, and with a bit of frightful anticipation, she slid over to the other girls. She would probably be a bit more resistant to the sound, she figured. She was used to supernaturally loud sounds after all. Putting her own ears in danger, she calmly reached down and placed both hands over the ears of the dog. She took a deep breath and tried to find her happy place. 

“Alright then,” she said with a nod. “Do your thing.” 

Siobhan was often taken by perverse fantasies. Despite the permission she’d been given to scream at the goo breasts, or perhaps because of it, she imagined instead turning on the girls and screaming at them. She imagined her laughter carrying through the goo as it swallowed her. Then she thought, given her luck, she’d discover the ravings of an after-life were factual and the redheads would team up and throw after-life stones at her. Uncharacteristically, she pushed the fantasy away and in the same, chillingly strange breath, she thanked the redheaded woman for taking care of her dog.

Siobhan turned, greeting the breasts like an enemy, locking down the mounds with her gaze. She didn’t like the idea of being a hero; like pastel florals, it didn’t suit her. In her adolescence, she’d learned what her role in this world was: it wasn’t to be liked, it wasn’t to be admired, it wasn’t to save people. There existed something in her nature that soured altruism; a rotten apple didn’t turn any less putrid simply because someone had chosen to eat it. Siobhan, like produce at the back of a fridge (she had some yogurt that was going bad, didn’t she?), couldn’t transform into something palatable. Yet, as she sucked air into her lungs, smiling as her chest expanded, the most perverse of fantasies flickered into her mind. The same fantasies that once plagued a little girl who shared her name, her face but none of her sensibilities.

Perhaps she could be something else: something loved, something treasured.

Siobhan screamed. The inhuman sound screeched across the landscape, turning good glass into confetti and whatever birds hadn’t exploded, rose up into confused spirals, dripping blood as they remembered how wings worked. The goo breasts rumbled and through her narrow, blurred vision, she recognized her foolishness. Of course. How stupid had she been? The goo was obviously swollen and now she’d freed it. This was what heroism wrought; she should have known better. Siobhan closed her eyes. In the after-life, would the women forgive her? How strange it was that she hoped they would. Tink, tink, tink. She opened her eyes.

Around them, shards of goo fluttered like blackened snow. The breasts were gone. They were here, alive, left with the echo of Siobhan’s scream. Without another wasted moment, without a second given to recovery, Siobhan raced down the other end of the bridge--knowing that on the other end was a clear path, she could leave--and stared down the gymnasium. Childish glee charged her next scream, aimed at the shelter. Again, a quake of sound erupted around them; snapping branches and cracking brick. 

More broken goo rained on them, evidence of her good work--and wasn’t it good? Didn’t she deserve praise? Wouldn’t someone tell her what a great job she’d done? Siobhan turned to the redheads and for a moment, found herself wondering if they would forgive her. 

There was a certain nervous energy in the air despite the fact all four women remained composed. Part of Alex wondered if that was just her own anxieties flaring up as they remained trapped on the bridge. The professor’s plan could work though she didn’t look forward to the sound. The dog was safe with Elora and Ren was close behind her. She took a steadying breath and smashed her hands over her ears in anticipation. 

As quickly as the sound happened, Alex could feel some of the kickback vibrating through her body, but she felt the collapse of the goo turned strange breast-shaped mineral abnormality into pieces. Before she could even process it fully, the professor had levelled another powerful scream at the gymnasium and a rain of hardened sludge was falling around them. 

“Fuck,” Alex practically shouted as one of the chunks hit her square in the head. It was coming down fast and they needed to move. Siobhan had the right idea running down the clear path on the bridge. She couldn’t hear herself or much of anything… which in different circumstances would have been a super cool break from the whole super hearing thing, but alas, scent and sight it was. 

“Come on,” she said, still much louder than she realized as she grabbed Ren’s hand and looked to Elora with the dog before she followed along the path Siobhan had created. “Try to avoid the bigger pieces!” 

Only in retrospect did Ren realize she had heard a banshee’s scream before. Or rather, almost heard one. The alleyway, the strange creatures that seemed to eat sound until they were so engorged upon it that they burst. The goo, in kind, responded violently to the sudden vibrations. And once again, Ren’s body felt like it was on an electric wire. 

The sound was aimed away, thankfully, but it still wreaked havoc on her. Causing her glamour to slip for just a moment. Luckily enough, Alex was already reaching for her hand, and the contact was enough to restore her focus fully. 

Shaken, but still standing. Ren shook the shock from her system and nodded toward the other tiny red-head. Hoping against hope that everyone else was just as taken by the scream to fully notice what had happened. What had broken, if only for a second. Alex had taken a strike to the head, and the nervous entomid quickly began to fuss over the rapidly weeping wound. 

“Let us get to safety.” She agreed, pulling along the werewolf as the rest of the group began to shift from the bridge to the space created by the wailing woman. 

She was expecting a very loud and disorienting scream, but Elora still wasn’t prepared for the sound that came from the banshee’s mouth. Her hands were occupied trying to stop the dog from going deaf or worse, so she bore a greater brunt of the damage than the others on the bridge. A sharp ringing sensation filled her ears, and for a brief moment she heard nothing else. She began to worry that the banshee had made her completely deaf, which would have posed a bit of an issue for writing music. She felt her legs get weak and she ended up in a seated position on the bridge, still focused on holding her hands over the dog’s ears and trying not to let go. 

She was so focused on this task that she didn’t initially realize that the goobies (goo boobies) had shattered from the sound. She was overjoyed to find out that there just might be a way off of this bridge after all. The celebration was short lived as chunks of hardened goo fell and struck one of the other women right in the head. If their plan of screaming at the goo was going to continue, they’d still have hearing loss and falling goo debris to contend with. She again thought of Mackenzie and Ariadne, and wondered if the scream hurt them too badly or if the layers of goo muffled the sound enough to a safe level. 

The group moved towards the gym as safely as they could, hoping to extract anyone sheltered there if they could. The rescue mission could almost be declared a success, but they’d still need to forge a path to safety. While the screams has cleared up a good portion of the goo, there was still way more that needed to be cleared out. 

“Maybe someone in the gym has enough heavy duty earplugs we can all use? I don’t know how many more screams my hearing can take!” Elora said, not realizing she was practically yelling. 

With the bridge cleared, the group of them moved with urgency: from one task on to the next. Siobhan’s attention dropped to the dog; he shook, tail tucked between his legs, staring up at the world with wide eyes. The woman had done as good a job as she could have protecting him and Siobhan knelt, taking the dog’s placating licks against her palm. He continued to shake as she picked him up, carrying him towards the shelter. 

The shelter, also free from goo, seemed to be given new life. Things seemed safer, despite the shards of goo fluttering down. Ariadne was safe, confirmed by her fluff of blonde hair as she stood beside three other people. Siobhan had done something ‘good’, she realised: something undeniably and morally good. Yet, even against the relief of knowing the young mare wasn’t dead-again, she didn’t feel heroic. Her stomach twisted and the dog continued to shake, whining through his nose in whistles. She spared a glance out at the bridge and wondered what was happening around the city at this moment, what other terror the goo was causing. 

But for now, there was the shelter, freed and sturdy and willing to hold them. 

[blueteller]

Random Disney Theory: Hunchback of Notre Dame

So, you know how you re-watch your favorite childhood movies sometimes, and suddenly you get wild theories?

(No? Just me? ....Okay then...)

Aaaanyway, I just watched the Hunchback of Notre Dame again (specifically, I skipped to listen to all to songs, because they're amazing, obviously). And something important occurred to me, and I can't have been the only one to notice this:

Quasimodo... doesn't look like this biological parents at all.

(Keep in mind: I know that this movie is based on a book, so maybe there are answers about that in the original source material. I've never read the book, however, and we all know Disney just takes the general concept from their source materials anyway. So I'm just focusing on what we are shown in the movie, and that's it.)

Now, I admit: it's only a defult assumption that the Romani man in the beginning with Quasimodo's mom ("Romani" being the current official, non-offensive name for the "Gypsy" poeple, according to web info) was her husband, or Quasimodo's father. It doesn't mean that was the case.

Perhaps the man was her brother, thus Quasimodo's uncle. Perhaps the two Romanis were simply friends, or temporary companions. (Personally I don't believe that, since their body language when they saw Frollo seems to imply a close relationship). Or maybe they were lovers, but due to some complicated circumstances the man was Quasimodo's stepfather, his biological father being someone else.

All of that doesn't matter, however. Because no matter how I look at it, even if Quasimodo's father was some light-skinned, green-eyed, red-haired man... that's not how genetics work. Red hair is a recessive trait: meaning, he should have taken after his dark-haired-and-skinned mother. Even if Quasimodo was only half-Romani, he doesn't share any Romani, and it's clearly not because he's deformed. He has typical European descend.

Quasimodo just isn't... a biological Romani, and it's obvious.

The answer to "how can that be?" is simple, of course: Quasimodo had to be adopted. ...Twice, if you count whatever the heck Frollo. But if you put this information in the perspective of the whole movie... doesn't that make the fate of his mother unbelievably tragic?

Picture this: a Romani woman, obviously on the run from something – probably racial persecution – adopts an infant son. A deformed infant son, of a different race than herself. What does it tell you about Quasimodo's past...?

Quasimodo was actually abandoned before, by his real birth mother. Frollo was accidentally correct about that!!

...Of course, it's possible that his birth mother just died during birth or something, but like... wouldn't then Quasimodo be adopted by one of his relatives? Or family friends? If he was loved by his biological parents, there should have been someone. The Romani clearly weren't trusted folks in that time period, so sincerely entrusting them with a baby seems extremely unlikely. It's far more plausible that Quasimodo was abandoned on a street, and picked up by the travelling couple, who took pity on the child.

Naturally, the fact that Quasimodo's mother adopted him doesn't make him any less her true son. She was a real mother to him – as proven by the fact that she died for him. She was running with such desperation, and not for a moment did she consider abandoning her baby in order to escape Judge Frollo.

And this is what makes this whole thing so tragic... Quasimodo's Romani mother loved him sincerely, with all her heart, as a mother should. There is no doubt about it. And yet, not only did Frollo kill her, then tried to kill her baby, then raised Quasimodo so cruelly... he spent the next 20 years telling Quasimodo that she was the kind of person who abandoned him. That "Gypsies are not capable of real love". He sullied her name in the most despicable way possible.

Ah, Frollo, that disgusting man... I'm so glad he was so petty he revealed the truth to Quasimodo in the end. She really deserved to be remembered for what she did for him.