#ITS JUST THAT THEY WERE PROMINENT IN THE BIT OF HISTORY HE WAS MENTIONING

[nerfedbytheuniverse]

Had a friend ask me the other day if I “notice that people seem to be very protective” of me.

And I said, “no, usually I’m the protective one.”

And I have receipts to back that up but I was not about to start trauma-dumping over it.

And he says “I guess since I feel somewhat protective of you, others might too.”

And like. Here’s the series of issues I have with that:

1) he’s the same age as my immediate-younger brother,

2) Which means I’m older than him by 4 years, and

3) Literally what kind of protectiveness do people think I need?

Like sure, I’m cool with people being protective of me, and I kind of have to be okay with that considering that I AM so protective of others. I don’t let people talk shit about others or themselves, I’m constantly trying to lift people up, and when people vent to me about issues they’re having with others, I’m waiting for an excuse to squeeze myself into the drama and tell people off. Nobody is allowed to hurt my friends.

But I also make the point of reminding myself that my friends are capable people. I remind and sometimes encourage people to eat or sleep or do other self-care tasks, but not because I think they can’t do it alone; I wait until there’s at least an inkling that the need isn’t being met, like if someone messages me at 3AM, or when someone brings up that they’re hungry af.

So I’m careful about how I remind people to take care of themselves. Or at least, I try to be.

But also, there’s this bitter voice inside that’s just like “oh how great, people are protective of me NOW. Where was that energy when I was being abused or bullied or talked down to?”

They didn’t know me yet. And it’s not their job. I want to believe that if shit got bad I’d have help but. I don’t. I want to.

But my closest connections outside of my household live over a thousand miles away. My friends in state? I haven’t known them long enough to expect anything from them. Not even advice.

I just. It’s been bugging me since it was said. And I guess it was a lie, since people are generally trying to help me with things and offer advice. I just didn’t really think of that. Because I know I’m smart, capable, and can handle myself for the most part.

And I have two school friends who really seem to get that balance. The balance of “I know you’re smart and capable, BUT you don’t have to do shit alone.”

They’re the two that I’m closest to, shocker. There’s no feeling that I’m being infantilized. Any defensiveness that relates to me is from a place that I’m comfortable with.

Because ultimately, I’m fine with people feeling protective of me but I’m still a whole entire adult and I can manage my own triggers and most of my own responsibilities. And if I need help I’ll probably ask.

But this kid saying he felt protective of me kind of felt weird, because what could he really do?

[mariacallous]

“There are only so many books on Ukraine we can review each month,” an editor from a major British newspaper tells me at one of the country’s largest literary festivals. He looks a bit uncomfortable, almost apologetic. He wants me to understand that if it were up to him, he’d review a book on Ukraine every day, but that’s just not how the industry works.

Since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion, I’ve had a glimpse into how several industries work: Publishing, journalism, and the broader world of culture, including galleries and museums. Even before the big war, I knew more than I wanted to about how academia works (or rather doesn’t) when it comes to Ukraine. A common thread among all these fields is the limited attention they allocate to countries that do not occupy a place among the traditional big players of imperial politics.

Cultural imperialism lives on, even if its carriers often proclaim anti-colonial slogans. It thrives in gate-keeping, with editors and academics mistrusting voices that don’t sound like those higher up the ladder, while platforming those who have habitually been accepted as authoritative. “We’ve done Ukraine already” is a frequent response whenever you pitch an idea, text, or public event centering the country.

The editor who can’t keep publishing reviews of Ukraine-related books walks away, and I pick up a copy of one of the UK’s most prominent literary magazines to see their book recommendations. Out of a handful of reviews, three are on recent books about Russia. It seems like the space afforded to Russia remains unlimited. I close the publication to keep my blood pressure down.

Keeping my blood pressure down, however, is challenging. When my social media feeds aren’t advertising another production of Uncle Vanya, they’re urging me to splash out on opera tickets for Eugene Onegin. What happened to the dreaded “cancelling” of Russian culture? The Russia section in most bookshops I visit in the UK is growing daily with everything from yet another translation of Dostoevsky to accounts of opposition figures killed or imprisoned by the Kremlin.

The international media focus on the August 2024 release of Russian political prisoners was yet another example of how the more things change, the more they stay the same. While these released prisoners were provided with a global media platform to call for an end to “unfair” sanctions on “ordinary Russians,” there was no mention of the thousands of Ukrainian civilians who continue to languish in Russian jails.

The ongoing international emphasis on all things Russian goes hand in hand with a reluctance to transform growing interest in Ukraine into meaningful structural changes in how the country is perceived, reported on, and understood. Although there has been some improvement in knowledge about Ukraine since 2022, the move is essentially from having no understanding to having a superficial grasp.

Each time I read a piece on Ukraine by someone not well-versed in the country’s history and politics, my heart sinks. The chances are it will recycle historical cliches, repeat Kremlin propaganda about Russophone Ukrainians, or generalize about regional differences. And to add insult to injury, such articles also often misspell at least one family or place name, using outdated Russian transliterations. A quick Google search or a message to an actual Ukrainian could prevent these errors and save the author from looking foolish. Yet aiding this kind of colonial complacency seems to bother neither the authors nor the editors involved.

I often wonder what would happen if I wrote a piece on British or US politics and misspelt the names of historical figures, towns, and cities. How likely would I be to get it published? And yet the same standards do not apply when it comes to writing about countries that have not been granted priority status in our mental hierarchies of the world. We can misspell them all we like; no one will notice anyway. Apart from the people from those countries, of course. And when an exasperated Ukrainian writes to complain, I can almost see the editors rolling their eyes and thinking, “What does this perpetually frustrated nation want now? We’ve done Ukraine. Why are they never satisfied?”

It is not enough to simply “do Ukraine” by reviewing one book on the war, especially if it’s by a Western journalist rather than a Ukraine-based author. It’s not enough to host one exhibition, particularly if it is by an artist or photographer who only spent a few weeks in the country. Quickly putting together a panel on Russia’s war in response to a major development at the front and adding a sole Ukrainian voice at the last minute doesn’t cut it either. This box-ticking approach is unhelpful and insulting.

It is important to acknowledge that some Western media outlets have significantly enhanced their coverage of Ukraine over the past two and a half years. They have typically done so by dedicating time and resources to having in-house experts who have either reported from Ukraine for many years, or who are committed to deepening their knowledge enough to produce high-quality analysis. However, many of these outlets still seem compelled to provide platforms for individuals entirely unqualified to analyse the region. Surely this isn’t what balance means?

Since February 2022, more than 100 Ukrainian cultural figures have been killed in the war. According to the Ukrainian Ministry of Culture, by May 2024, over 2,000 cultural institutions had been damaged or destroyed. This includes 711 libraries, 116 museums and galleries, and 37 theatres, cinemas, and concert halls. In May 2024, Russia bombed Factor Druk, the country’s biggest printing house.

When I attended this year’s Kyiv Book Arsenal, Ukraine’s largest literary festival, each panel began with a minute of silence to honor the memory of colleagues killed in the war. All this is in addition to mounting military losses, many of whom are yesterday’s civilians, including journalists and creatives who have either volunteered or been drafted into the army. This is the current state of the Ukrainian creative industry.

To save time for Western editors, publishers, and curators, let me clarify what all of us perpetually frustrated Ukrainians want. We would appreciate it if they turned to actual Ukraine specialists when working on Ukraine-related themes. Not those who suddenly pivoted from specializing in Russia, or who feel entitled to speak authoritatively because they discovered a distant Ukrainian ancestor, or those who have only recently shown interest in Ukraine due to business opportunities in the country’s reconstruction. We would be grateful if they took the time to seek out experts who have been studying Ukraine long before it became fashionable, who understand the country in all its complexity, and who care enough to offer Ukrainians the basic dignity of having their names spelt correctly.

I like to fantasise about a time when editors of top Western periodicals will choose to review books on Ukraine not simply because the country is at war and they feel obliged to cover it now and again, but because these books offer vital insights into democracy, the fight for freedom, or the importance of maintaining unity and a sense of humor in times of crisis. I hope for a day when galleries will host exhibitions of Ukrainian art, not just because it was rescued from a war zone, but because the artists involved provide fresh perspectives on the world.

I also dream that we, the perpetually frustrated Ukraine specialists, will eventually be able to focus on our own scholarship and creativity rather than correcting the mistakes and misleading takes of others. This will happen when cultural institutions, publishing houses, universities, and newspapers acquire in-house experts whose knowledge of Ukraine and the wider region extends beyond Russia.

Dr Olesya Khromeychuk is a historian and writer. She is the author of The Death of a Soldier Told by His Sister (2022). Khromeychuk has written for The New York Times, The New York Review of Books, The Guardian, Der Spiegel, Prospect, and The New Statesman, and has delivered a TED talk on What the World Can Learn From Ukraine’s Fight for Democracy. She has taught the history of East-Central Europe at several British universities and is currently the Director of the Ukrainian Institute London.

[beevean]

https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.beyondgames.biz/43436/from-vampire-video-game-to-hit-netflix-animation-an-interview-with-the-castlevania-nocturne-creator/%3famp=1

This...should also be interesting

man you're having fun sending me peak :P

This got a bit long, so under the cut it is - I'm also afraid I'm annoying others with this lol

Castlevania, the long-running and influential platform game series launched by Konami in 1986, follows the generations-long battle between the Belmont family and vampire lord Dracula. The Castlevania TV show told that story across four seasons.

This is a lie. Not only the og show only adapted one adventure and not the entire legacy, but that adventure barely took half of the runtime.

Yes I'm being petty, but can you blame me? They can't even gush about Best Videogame Adaptation Of All Time right.

I didn’t know the games, but I’d seen the earlier [Castlevania] show and liked it very much.

I had no doubts 🙂

Even as a fan of the show, though, Bradley's knowledge is lacking. Dude forgot basic worldbuilding like Devil Forging and the effect of crosses on vampires.

"Konami also gets sent notes and the scripts." I find funny how there is zero mention of their input lol. "yeah they get kinda warned that we're doing stuff with their brand. just in case someone cares"

I did quite a bit of reading up about it, especially the two games in particular. One of the difficulties in terms of working out a story is that in many of the games, including these two, Dracula was prominent. But in the original TV series, the Dracula story is kind of put to bed! Dracula gets a happy ending after season four. So I had to work out how – or whether – to handle Dracula. I started looking into other villains. There were two. I researched the games and cherry-picked what I could use. Olrox is in the game, but he’s different. And there’s Erzsebet Báthory, who appears in a different Castlevania game with an Anglicised name. I knew who she was already: she’s a famous historical figure. I decided to treat her as the historical character (who’s supposedly the worst female serial killer in history – [folklore] turned her into a vampire).

Nice to see Bradley has learned from Ellis' school of thought of just randomly selecting elements you might recycle with no further consideration. I'm surprised he chose Erzsebet and not, say, Barlowe, who was definitely alive back then.

To be fair, though, I can understand his frustration at the absolute idiotic ending of the og show.

[The Deats brothers] know how to use things from the games creatively and in ways that will work even if you don’t know the games.

... no. Moving on.

There is a character called Annette in Rondo Of Blood who is Richter’s girlfriend. She’s trapped in Dracula’s castle, and he has to rescue her in the game. Now, I was never going to do an eight-episode season, never mind two seasons or more, of Richter running around a castle rescuing a girl.

I can just hear the scoffing.

Alright, fair, I understand his point. You want a more dynamic plot, I get it. But you basically went "this is shit, I'll just turn her into my OC", just like you did with Olrox and Erzsebet, and just like Ellis did with pretty much everyone in the cast. You all just take names and create your own stories by leeching off the popularity of the source material and then expect to be clapped for writing the Best Adaptation of all time.

One of the tasks in developing the show and its story is that, of course, the reason it exists at all is because of the game. So you want to please fans of the game. But it can’t only be for fans of the game. It has to have a broader appeal. There’s a significant fan base, but you need more to justify a Netflix show. You have to have something that will work for a wider audience. It has to be something on its own, and you have to find the logic of the story that you started to tell. Sometimes, the problem with adaptations (especially if they aren’t very complex stories to begin with) is that if you keep trying just to come back to that, you’re going to lock yourself into a dead end. What you do is you develop characters and then the characters have a logic. And the story has its own logic. And you have to allow that to happen, or it will fail on every level.

... so, what was I saying?

This speaks for itself. I have nothing to add.

The name seems to work for a Mexica background – although it’s not really Aztec

the fuck are you saying? Olrox is a mistranslation of Orlok. It's German! What, just because there's an X there suddenly it can pass off for Aztec? So much for hiring writers that can help you with writing other cultures

So we have a bunch of kids who are out of their depth. Richter’s too cocky. He thinks he can handle everything, and he can’t. Maria is even younger than Richter and Annette. They’re all very obviously out of their depth. And there’s something very Buffy about that, in a way.

And Annette is just perfect, isn't she :) it's not like her brash outburst lead to Edouard becoming a Night Creature and she, instead of blaming herself, kept snapping at Richter for wanting to make her reason :)

also lol that Maria is only described as "young". She really has no personality and contributes nothing to the story.

There’s a lot of that in Olrox, and Drolta also has a touch of Anne Rice about her. Those particular vampires are quite ambiguous – and sexy!

Drolta is literally what the fandom believes game Isaac to be, a shallow evil horndog simp, but with tits. Ambiguous my ass.

We knew that the vampires in this universe are aristocratic.

bro accidentally wrote a story about vampires infiltrating human nobility to the point of becoming an accepted part of their world because he forgot that not all vampires are inherently aristocratic. i'm shitting myself.

The Night Creatures are in the old Castlevania show, and the game. But they tended to be a bit gross-looking. In contrast, we wanted something a bit more beautiful. It fits with the story about [transformed singer] Eduard. It felt important that in his Night Creature form, you could still see the beauty of the character. He needed to be a beautiful Night Creature, preserving his voice, and you needed to see the sadness in his eyes and everything. And he couldn’t be stupidly different from all the other Night Creatures, so they changed a little, too.

... what?

So you fucked over the entire lore of Night Creatures just to have a pretty Edouard??

I. No. Moving on again.

(also this is an insult to abel, even the one in the show)

There’s been less complaint about the portrayal of the Church than I thought there might be!

Yeah, because the audience of NFCV is so anti church that they cheer at the sight of the Devil sending human-eating demons to slaughter peasants who did not stop one execution.

Talk us through some of the other characters, please. You’ve got some great voice actors! Alucard was always going to be in it right from the beginning of working on this. The question was just when. We decided to end it on a cliffhanger. If you’re going to have a cliffhanger, you might as well make it as good a cliffhanger!

question: hey would you like to talk about the voice actors

bradley, not containing his boner: OMG HAVE YOU SEEN ALUCARD ALUCARD IS SO COOL WE ALWAYS WANTED TO GO BACK TO ALUCARD THE ONLY CHARACTER PEOPLE CARE ABOUT

One of the things that was great with this – and it’s a credit to Kevin Kolde and to Netflix – is that it is a very ‘free’ adaptation. They were very open to that and okay with it. Nobody at any level was saying, ‘Hold on a minute! You can’t do that.’ With any adaptation, there are things which you probably want to be more faithful to, because the story is already so great.

... is it me, or does it seem like he's saying "we were free to do as we pleased, while usually we can't because the OG story is already great - which was not our case, RoB's story was so shallow that nothing was worth keeping"?

Like. I don't think it's what he meant because it would be rude as fuck. But it sure sounds like it.

But yeah, I can tell no one gave a shit about Nocturne being an actual adaptation.

[pohjalainen]

We can't have a constructive discussion on the Kalevala and its relationship with cultural appropriation without first seeing it for what it truly is - a multicultural hybrid that pulls from many sources.

And claiming otherwise is proof of how little people know about this topic, the contents found within the book, the origin and history of the project, and the cultures and tradition the book borrows from.

There are misconceptions (and a bad game of telephone) at play when it comes to this topic: first one being that Kalevala "belongs" to finns, and the second one being that it "belongs" to karelians. Neither of these ideas are correct nor are they based in reality. This false narrative is solely driven by emotions rather than fact on both sides of this argument, and it leaves out everyone else whose tradition and beliefs are used in the mythos of this story book, including ingrians and ostrobothnians, such as myself. My home is the starting point of the entire project, including runes and concepts which were collected and documented before the birth of karelianism. Without ostrobothnia there would be no Kalevala. The start of the project is never discussed in a truthful manner and I just can't imagine why. I hope it stems from ignorance and lack of research, because honestly I've mostly seen people parrot the same exact unsourced claims without anyone fact-checking what they're actually saying. Finns have historically not been a monolith and to this day some still aren't, for example many ostrobothnians would proudly declare that they weren't finns up to the 1900s. It's also wrong to simply divide Finland into west and east, as this is a bit too simplistic and it creates a binary that doesn't exactly exists. The truth of the matter is that there isn't just one culture, ethnicity, country or peoples who can claim the Kalevala for itself. Nor many the "characters" included, such as Väinämöinen, who is a prominent figure in the runes and beliefs of multiple cultures, such as mine. He doesn't belong to anyone nor can anyone claim him, especially when you consider the fact that his role and nature differs depending on who you ask. Trying to hog a widespread concept to one peoples/culture is ignorant at best and erasure at worst. It's downright depressing to see the "Lönnrot came up with (ostrobothnian deity)" and "finns didn't think their own culture was exotic enough" lies spread around every website. Lönnrot was first familiarised with concepts and ideas Väinämöinen, Ilmarinen, Louhi, Pimentola/Pohjola (to name a few) from published ostrobothnian runes and lexicons, namely Mythologia Fennica. He was familiar with these concepts long before he ventured to Kainuu and Viena, he knew what he was looking for thanks to all the published works he was able to get his hands on. In fact the main reason he went eastward was because he thought he wouldn’t be able to find new material from the documented places in Ostrobothnia, and thus decided he might be able to find more material for his “longer narrative” elsewhere (1). After learning that merchants from Vuokkiniemi had recently visited Zacharias Topelius in Uusikaarlepyy/Nykarleby, he decided to head there next. Even Viena, where most runes were collected, has a unique culture due to being settled by karelians in the 1500s, and ostrobothnians in the 1600s (many of them rune singers). No doubt that pieces of the indigenous sámi (most of whom were pushed northward by the arrival of karelians) also persist in the culture of the region (possibly along with savonian and tavastian settler influence) (2). Just because these populations assimilated into karelians doesn't mean they shouldn't be mentioned when discussing the culture of Viena, and of course Kalevala. While I understand the frustration around this subject, and I do think much of it is justified, it's extremely disheartening to see just how easily attempts at conversation are shot down by both finns and karelians, and how quick people are to completely disregard and shun other cultures and peoples involved... and for what? I understand the anger, but it won't take us anywhere. It’s detrimental to push down others when attempting to uplift one’s own culture.

 I truly wish people did more research on this subject and started to actually respect and acknowledge the cultures involved - and I mean all of them. The ignorance and staggering lack of research concerning this topic is unbelieveable.. and of course extremely saddening. 

Footnotes:

 He explained this in the foreword of old Kalevala. (X)

Karjalan sivistysseura - website’s History section on the settlement of Viena. (X)

I find these two sources the most important to the conversation; however everything I’ve just said is quite easy to research, especially if you speak finnish and swedish. These are not the only sources either, and everyone familiar with this topic knows how skewed this conversation is online, especially on tumblr and twitter.

[pilferingapples]

   ah that bit in every Romanticist bio where we gotta get the who's who as the author sees it (all this is from the Fourth Musketeer)

At the Café de Paris, on the boulevard, Alexander breathed the air of the great world. There the celebrities of journalism, literature, and dandyism met.

...this gets long

That man with the warlike hat and blinking eyes' is Nestor Roqueplan who has now left his garret, his washbasin-clock and his pistols-candelabra for the comfortable offices of the Figaro.

OK was this before/after/during its time as an anti-Romanticist paper??

Next him is Jules Janin, who looks comfortably rotund but thinks only of snapping at his neighbor, and who will later fight a duel with Dumas about a wretched question of dramatic criticism.

JULES JANIN DUELED ALEX DUMAS?? ...JULES JANIN DUELES ALEX DUMAS AND LIVED?!?

That fellow by way of being a gentleman, dressed with the correctness of an English lord in a blue coat with gold buttons, a yellow waistcoat, and pearl-gray trousers, is the husband of Marie Dorval, Merle, one of the legitimist party, an epicure and an authority on gastronomy.

..wait, isn't that outfit a Werther cosplay? Am I getting the colors wrong?

. . Over at the long table, orating in a high voice, with his face awkwardly swathed in an enormous neckcloth to hide certain unpleasant scars, is Veron, nicknamed the Prince of Wales, actually the manager of the Revue de Paris, who pays Dumas royally, at least for the time being. With his high color, his greedy lips that look as if they were smeared with jam, and his gluttonous eyes, he seems at once an abbot of former times and a comedy valet.

This guy is way more important than you'd guess by how little he shows up in histories! Also he got his start in patent medicine, which is really jumping out at me post-Blue Castle read!

     That tall, thin, dark man, with hair cut brush-shaped and a prominent nose, wearing a velvet caftan and a cap lined with martin fur, is Adolphe de Leuven, librettist of the Postillon de Lonjumeau, who launched Alexander. By his side, flaunting a magnificent kidskin waistcoat and whirling his rhinoceros cane, is handsome Roger de Beauvoir, with a mop of curly black hair, the only one of Alexander's friends who is an aristocrat of wealth-Beauvoir who entertains six hundred people at the Hôtel de Pimodan, and who has just challenged Balzac for accusing him of being named neither Roger nor Beauvoir. Although Balzac took the trouble to send him "forty pages of excuses," the dandy will listen to nothing and proclaims: "I scorn M. de Balzac's prose, I want only his skin!"

holy shit Balzac you messed up??

     Here is Eugène Sue, very smart in his sea-green coat, with a rather vulgar turn of the nose that detracts from his good looks. Last, simpler and jollier than the rest, is that good fellow Méry who passes for a librarian at Marseilles, but who is always off on a lark to Paris; an amazing improviser who can compose correctly an act of a classical tragedy within two hours, and in the drawing-rooms describe the tortures of hell so vividly that the ladies beg for mercy.

Fun new party game: Describe the tortures of hell!

     Near these gentlemen, but on a lower plane, the madmen appear. "He who was Gannot" and has made himself God under the name Mapah, is a fop and a billiard player now fallen on evil days who sends out manifestos signed "By Our Apostolic Ruin."

The Mahpah is one of the wildest ...visionaries? religious ...somethings? movement leaders? of the time, love seeing him get mentioned (Wiki) (Nonbinary wiki)

Jean Journet, called the Apostle, goes about dressed as a begging friar and sells his verses unfailingly entitled "Songs" or "Cries."

...I have no idea who this is . Sounds like he's coping with poverty very artistishly.

Poor Petrus Borel imagines himself to be a wolf; at his house Alexander has eaten cream from a skull. . . .

excuse you he never said he was a wolf he said he was a werewolf and no one actually disagreed also man,you serve ice cream in skulls ONE time...

         ...you might see (Dumas) in the rue Grange-Batelière, in the salon of the dancer Marie Taglioni, "the sylph of sylphs," or at Delphine de Girardin's on the days when she recited her poems. But Alexander always grew sentimental near "the Muse" and asked her to receive him in private. "I love you," he said, "with an affection too selfish to share you with the world." Then, when they were alone together, she would interrupt him with questions about dramatic art. "Do tell me how one writes for the theater?" Dumas laughed at what he called "the naïveté of genius."      He was attractive to women, there was no doubt of that, even to the most distrustful of them. When Sainte-Beuve, who was fond of playing the rôle of intermediary, proposed to introduce Alfred de Musset to George Sand, she answered: "I don't want you to bring Alfred de Musset. He's too much of a dandy, we should never get along together. . . . Instead of him, do bring Alexander Dumas, in whose art I have found a soul, exclusive of his talent." Alexander came and Sand took a great liking to him.

Wow, imagine if George Sand had ever hung out with Musset What a disaster that would have been huh in that alternate world ><

[strywoven]

no one at all: me, dropping a new ( mha/bnha ) verse: ................. 🧍

don't ever say i don't do nothing for y'all ( i'm doing this for exactly 2 people ) . another yappening incoming, so it'll be under a cut. it's unspoken in this post but verona, sloan, and kadai have roles in this verse SOMEWHERE ... i shall get around to expanding upon that later anywhere between 6-10 months weeks. anyways, tw for: self-mutilation, mentions of abuse & neglect, murder, etc. proceed with caution if that's not your vibe.

Some say that “the family home is where the deepest resentments grow”. Often, we never realize how true that is until there’s no undoing the damage which has already been done, collected over years spent in suffocation within these walls that held onto each miserable memory made.

In a word, the Rolavs seemed altogether normal; just another average, nothing-special, nuclear family with everything to hide. Yet you see, NAMES BURDEN WEIGHT ( at least, that’s what tradition might say ), and this one is no different. “Rolav” is a surname belonging to a long-lived clan of villains ( a criminal organization, shall we say, which operates off animalistic creed & specializes in hunting, in eluding the public perception ) . With trace roots back to SCOTLAND - a heritage boasted in their savage disposal of requested/required quarries - the family itself is oftentimes regarded as an “INVASIVE SPECIES” by other criminal families of the villain underworld ( however, are regarded with no less respect ) . The Rolavs are - or were - a prominent player, as far as powers go. However, in recent generations, the heritable Quirk most notable to the clan - “ALL-FIRE” - has become unstable, unpredictable, rendering most progeny currently with it, entirely unable to properly utilize it to its fullest potential. Which brings us to the current era, where Ceres Rolav, the standing patriarch of the family, is desperate to have a child that would carry the Quirk and manifest it IN FULL, just as it was generations ago. The issue being, there’s no guarantee that it would ( at least, not without destroying the child in the process; but, to secure the bloodline, sacrifices are necessary ) .

Per tradition, the Quirk would likely pass down to the FIRSTBORN SON who would then be raised to inherit the clan itself and assume the role of patriarch ( & to effect, he shall also inherit the name “BRAZEN HART” ) . However, Ceres’ whole world turned over when he was met with a doe ( a daughter ) rather than a buck ( a son ) . In fact, he was disappointed, concerned, even a bit angry. Despite his so-called wife’s protestations, Ceres endeavored to raise the child as planned, AS IF MALE, completely ignoring their birth gender and proceeding to groom them for their role as future patriarch irregardless.

Ceres’ regime with young Kaen was relentless. He was less and less a father and more a stringent authoritarian, impressing upon them the looming demands of their future inheritance ( & nothing less than perfection was ever acknowledged ) . Kaen’s childhood was little more than hours spent being drilled on family history, on family tradition, on family creed -- always ABOUT FAMILY & STRENGTH & HONOR IN THE GLORY OF FIRE . Very few times did their mother stand for them, did she curtail Ceres’ insatiable ire and ambition ( instead, her always-sulking, half-drunk presence made things worse ) . Though, there was one memory that sticks out to Kaen, even now, where their mother told them: “Don't be like me. Don't be like your father. Be better. DO GOOD THINGS.” Words that they didn’t understand the meaning of until many years too late.

Kaen’s peace was found in being able to go to public school, escorted away from the hidden-away estate tucked in a remote location somewhere in the mountains. And considering Ceres made strides to keep his “professional” and personal identities separate, Kaen was able to have a mostly normal school career. It was, at least, until Kaen’s Quirk manifested at age 5, bursting to life in a sudden act of altruism that nearly set several other classmates ablaze as they stood to defend another from getting picked on. Unfortunately, even when the teachers rushed in, Kaen found it INCREDIBLY DIFFICULT to snuff; this, a recurring issue that was never quite solved. Several other accidental incidents of arson occurred in the months thereafter, leading to a meeting between Kaen, their parents, and the principal to discuss “options”. But truthfully, everyone already came to a simple conclusion: to remove them from the school and eventually the public entirely.

Ceres remained with Kaen and their mother for ONLY ANOTHER YEAR before something in him seemed to change the more and more he noticed Kaen’s Quirk evolving. Kaen overheard him telling their mother, “That is my son, I know, but there’s something else in him.” And no sooner had they heard this discussion than they distinctly remember the scene of him walking out the door without so much as a backward glance. Despite everything he put them through, Kaen tried to run after him, only for their mother to grip their shoulder - a little too tightly - and hold them in place, telling them that he was not someone worth chasing nor wasting their tears on.

From bad to worse, Kaen’s life from then began to spiral as their mother did not take well to Ceres outright abandoning her with a child who possessed an out-of-control Quirk. The only signs that Ceres - or even that the rest of the clan itself - still held any regard for her and Kaen were the infrequent deposits of money into her bank account, as if INSURANCE to keep them at least somewhat afloat and sustained in his absence. Otherwise, no matter how often Kaen saw their mother try to reach out to him ( & to other members of the clan ) , Ceres seemed to have fallen off the face of the country. So, it might’ve been fear that drove her to do as she did, drinking so much, ignoring Kaen’s needs, striking out at them again and again and again-- Or perhaps, it truly was her own brand of resentment ( even if misdirected ) .

In those years, trapped in that house with that woman, Kaen became very familiar with the police, having called them on numerous occasions for some sort of help ( or some sort of comfort ) . And what good it did. Nothing ever changed ( & why would it ? ) . Particularly, there was one woman that stood out: Yuna. Yuna had just joined the force, and didn’t anticipate becoming so fixed in the life of a teenager as she did, so keen on trying to “save” Kaen from, what exactly, she wasn’t sure yet, but she knew she had to. She managed to convince their mother to allow Kaen back into the public, under supervision, so they can continue a proper education, and - thankfully - to remove them from the house for at least part of the day before a more suitable solution can be recognized.

Before they know it, it’s the summer, during academic break. Summer makes their Quirk especially active ( heat begets heat, as they’ve realized when they were younger ), and even more so worsens their temper. Kaen was currently nursing a blooming welt on their ribcage from their mother’s recent tirade earlier that evening, and suddenly it all becomes quite clear: you have two options, their father’s voice echoes, you either live or die, that’s the way of things, so make your choice. And they do.

Kaen musters up their courage, compounding it with the contempt which has been building within them for years, and looks into their mirror. They’re gaunt, haggard, beaten-looking-- And there, atop their bedraggled red mane, sits a budding crest of antlers that resembles their father’s. It’s instinctive, then, this sudden surge of HATE which seethes in them, compelling them to grab those awful little horns, beginning to YANK & PULL , their body jerking disjointedly. It hurts, yes, but is this really anything in comparison to what they’ve already gone through? No. They can tolerate it, just a little more-- And with a sickening, awful CRACK , the antlers splinter in their hands, the bone breaking off and falling into their bruising palms, rivulets of blood trickling down their brows and into their eyes. Their reflection grins back at them, own teeth grown sharp and gaze burning in a way they don’t recognize. This will do.

Whatever happened next is not pretty, and most of the evidence was lost in the miles-wide inferno that ensued ( a fire which also engulfed them in the process, yet strangely did not harm them ) . But the remains of the corpse of Kaen’s mother - whatever could be recovered of the near-ashes - divulged the fact that Kaen brutalized her with MAKESHIFT WEAPONS before setting everything in the surrounding area ablaze ( that is, the detectives found the scant remains mangle-twisted around … antlers, of all things, likely wielded like knives ) .

Kaen was just 16 at the time, only an honors-level student in a small, civilian high school located in the foothills ( no-one knew, no-one had any idea that they were capable of such violence when all they did towards their peers was smile & act so kindly ) . The official reports said they had A PSYCHOTIC BREAK and once apprehended, Kaen was put on a hold to be properly evaluated, just to cover the bases. During this time, Yuna approached Kaen, noting that they seemed PARTICULARLY CALM for someone who is facing severe charges and just suffered an intense mental fallout ( in her words, “they don’t look the same anymore. whatever came out of that fire wasn’t the kid i knew.” ) . Yuna told Kaen that it would be a conflict of interest for her to have any involvement in their case, however she intends to give them a lawyer for the upcoming trial. When Kaen asked her why she’d ever do that, Yuna shrugged and said, “Some people are worth making mistakes for.”

The trial which ensued was - in no uncertain terms - the MOST performative in recent history, likely due to their bloodline ( the one they tried hard to reject & deny ) . The publicity from the case set the foundation, putting the Rolav heir into public prominence with the press eating up their image, chasing after their secrets, and hanging on their every word and action ( “the sweetest little killer”, tabloids sensationalized, “seems this is the chip off the old buck, isn’t it?” ) . At the end of a two-month deliberation, they were acquitted, if only because of the grace of their expert lawyer and their own performance in front of the judges. From there, it would be a chance at REHABILITATION. And when flocked by press at the end of it all, asked what they intended to do with their granted freedom, Kaen smiled and replied, “Everythin’. This is jus’ the beginnin’. I’m gonna … DO GOOD THINGS.” This, Kaen even still strives to achieve.

From there, Kaen is granted asylum with Yuna, living with her as the estate is closed and recovered, all effects secured until Kaen turns 18. With Yuna, Kaen is transferred to a different district, and a new high school, but doesn’t escape the newfound infamy. They do, however, finish off their general education with honors, graduating top of their class. And after, they confide in Yuna that they intend to pursue a career in film ( something that had always inspired them & comforted them when they were a child ) . Yuna supported the idea, and remained in their corner even when they began striking out on their own and touching base with agencies over the course of the next year or so.

By 20, Kaen is signed to a prolific agency and already finished filming for their first movie as a titular antagonist ( a role that, although their first, would become their most well-known & well-beloved ) . And today, at 26, Kaen has landed several other roles, 2 of which were primary billing spots in other films. Kaen had successfully rebounded, capitalizing off their perverted sense of fame from their trial to become an actor; the public adores them, aggrandizes them, and yet … FEARS THEM just the same. Now that their heritage ( & unstable quirk ) has gone public, people are more than a little wary of them, and Kaen has been vested with the mantle of, “THE UNTOUCHABLE DOE” , both for their image and for their power and influence; a character that no-one can get close to, that no-one can really be near enough to know in full.

Currently, Kaen’s overarching goal is to track down their clan - rather, their father - and challenge him for the right of the patriarchy ( as they believe it’s owed to them ) , to inevitably return their family “to the light” rather than allow them to live unnoticed in the shadows. However, Kaen truly does not intend to do harm, and does not intend to follow the role of villainy despite what their heritage may incline them to do; they’re not exactly the most moral of creatures, either ( especially not towards themself ) . How their story ends, how they wind up ultimately participating in the unfolding strife between villains and heroes, entirely depends on whom they interact with. So I’ve decided to leave that open-ended. But make no mistake, this entire story is a TRAGEDY, Kaen cannot be saved … Though they can be FREED.

Quirks ( yes, there’s technically 2 ) :

“ALL-FIRE” — Primary — In essence, this is a Quirk of highly potent immolation; All-Fire allows Kaen to set themself or others ablaze without the use of direct physical contact ( lit. actual pyromancy ) . Kaen’s flames are ATYPICAL of most fire-users, manifesting in an array of hues and colors all at once; it is extremely mesmerizing, but also, in practice, a pure-combustion that can incinerate a target to ash if not controlled or restrained properly. As mentioned, Kaen lacks control and even worse, lacks proper Quirk training. Because of this deficit in education, Kaen is UNABLE TO TRULY CONTROL All-Fire, nor have they ever been able to “turn it off” ever since it first manifested at 5. By 16, it continued to evolve and burn through their system unchecked, and for over a decade, Kaen has effectively been BURNING ALIVE . Although this sounds bad ( & it is ) , it comes with an upside: Kaen is impervious to being harmed by fire, full-stop, and is no longer hurt by their own flames ( they are, essentially, a walking inferno ) .

“HETEROMORPHISM : CERVIDAE CARNIVORA” — Secondary + Residual — A deeply foundational and biological Quirk that HIGHLY IMPACTS Kaen's functionality , even if it does not seem to blatantly appear physically as it does for the vast majority of their bloodline. It allots Kaen immense physical endurance , pain tolerance , animalistic instinct + drive ( note: not as a prey-based animal but a predator ) , and heightened sensory and strength. Kaen is a beast hiding in plain sight , even if they don't rightly act nor seem like one. CERVIDAE CARNIVORA grants Kaen deer-like traits ( making them seem outwardly doe-like or fauny ) while complimenting it with internalized carnivorous traits ( the instinct to hunt , the innate drive & fixation on things , a deeply rooted ferocity , etc. etc. ) .

A few notable weaknesses

Self-Restraint = / = Control — Kaen is notable for their demeanor ( composed, docile, calm even under duress ) . However, this is all external, and doesn’t at all match the internal strife they’re consistently combating; a struggle which tends to trigger “flare ups” in their fire, whether intentional or not. It’s never been a secret that Kaen isn’t trained or at all well-versed in how to properly utilize either of their Quirks, but because people - the press, coworkers, etc. - tend to see them be so openly placid, they tend to ASSUME Kaen has everything under control. This is not necessarily the case. Kaen may be able to better contain the range of damage when “accidents” happen, but that doesn’t stop them from inadvertently causing destruction or mishaps if they - at any point - lose their temper, or let their emotions get the better of them.

Water or Ground-based Quirks — Self-explanatory. However, Kaen also cannot swim. At all. Open water makes them nervous and shuts them down ( funnily enough, so does rainy weather ) .

Ice — Not necessarily because of a “weakness”, per-se, but because ice helps to “balance” or otherwise, literally, “chill out” their ever-burning Quirk by lowering the power threshold to a more manageable degree. Using ice on them would hopefully help to neutralize their fire. It’s why they take ice baths consistently.

Darkness — A primal fear. Don’t ask. It’s an easy win if you’ve got this sort of power.

Some other things of note for this verse:

Kaen is a known CELEBRITY , but also considered a civilian. They’re not entitled to use their Quirks at all ( unless for a role ) , and in fact were warned against it by the judges upon acquittal.

Kaen strives to change the narrative of their own lineage. Despite how people look at them, they are inordinately sweet-tempered, kind, and compassionate; they REFUSE to fall in line with the “nature” of their heritage ( & yet, there’s still an emptiness in them, a seething rage just waiting for an excuse to come forward ) .

Because Kaen’s All-Fire has remained constantly/consistently activated, they are regarded as one of the few and far-between case studies in LIMITLESS POTENTIAL , for their body has entirely transcended beyond all physical barriers to maintain an ever-evolving Quirk and it’s manifesting power for years at a time, without stopping.

Kaen has managed to stop their Quirk from incinerating people around them. However, they still give off an IMMENSE AURA of heat, of burning, of barely restrained fire that causes most to recoil and give them a wide berth. Their fire does, however, manifest inadvertently off and on in casual displays ( smoking from their mouth/nose, crackling cinders from their person, burning in their eyes, etc. ) .

As they are restricted from Quirk-usage, if they ever get into a scuffle with someone, they will NOT use their Quirks to fight. Hardly at all. In fact, they will openly mock anyone who uses Quirks against them, taunting them to “fight like a real man” and hit them properly ( another lesson likely learned from their upbringing, the preference for true fisticuffs compared to power-brawls ) .

Kaen has ANIMALISTIC TRAITS thanks to the recessive biological traits from their father’s lineage; sharp teeth and nails, and of course the antlers which sit broken and ungrown atop their head ( they cover these, typically, with a news-boy knit-hat ) . These traits become more prominent the more emotional they get ( re: they look more bestial ) .

Fire is often depicted as a force of DESTRUCTION , but for Kaen it becomes a conduit of RETRIBUTION & PURIFICATION . Take that as you will.

[nickgerlich]

Lite Brigade

My heart skipped a beat yesterday when I received a notification of the latest marketing effort from Miller Brewing Company. If there is any industry I know a little bit about—OK, a lot—it is beer. It all started 50 years ago when I was a high school freshman, and a cousin introduced me to what was then all the rage: collecting beer cans.

That eventually grew into all manner of breweriana, a hobby I still participate in today. It’s a lot of fun, and I fancy myself a beer traveler in pursuit of the brewer’s art wherever I may be. Heck, I’m going to Clovis NM tonight and nearby Portales tomorrow to do just that.

And Miller’s new campaign harkens back to my wonder years in the 70s, when they purchased the Lite Beer brand and other assets from the bankrupt Meister Brau Brewing Company in Chicago. That was 1972; three years later, Miller took the Lite brand and launched it nationwide with one of the most memorable campaigns ever: Tastes Great, Less Filling.

Now I must make mention that Miller is guilty of not exactly telling the whole truth. It’s not that they are lying, because they really did catapult the brand to national prominence. It’s just that they did not invent Lite beer, neither the brand nor the category. The latter honor goes to the Rheingold Brewing Company in New York, who had created Gablinger’s Diet Beer, which flopped. Duh. You don’t drink beer to go on a diet.

Rheingold then gladly passed along the recipe to Meister Brau, who got rid of any reference to dieting. They bragged about Meister Brau Lite having “one-third less [sic] calories,” and that it was non-filling. It was a “full strength premium beer,” lest any he-man think he was drinking sissy stuff.

All Miller had to do was focus on the obvious. Had Meister Brau possessed a little marketing savvy, they could have catapulted to national fame with their brew, but, alas, they did not.

To Miller’s great credit—and this is indeed the true part—they used their acquisition to build what was a new category. Their flagship beer, Miller High Life, was once “the champagne of bottled beer,” but that had gone flat. Lite Beer by Miller was no side show. They used burly athletes to make the point, that Lite Beer allowed folks to keep drinking beer without that belly-bloat feeling after you’ve had one too many.

Lite eventually lost some of its luster after Bud Light was introduced, not to mention all the other me-too products from every brewer ever. But now with Bud Light in the dog house following last April’s incident, this is a great time for Miller to try to regain some ground. Modelo may have been the initial beneficiary of light beer-drinking fans’ money, but it has no history in the US. Miller Lite does, though, and especially among the very demographic that was repulsed by the thought of a transgender woman drinking the same beer as them.

Yeah. Now you get it. This is marketing gold, as gold as the color of the beer itself.

Better yet, Miller is leveraging a little nostalgia, which as we have noted before, can be intoxicating in its own right. The current promotion includes VHS tapes, as well as a tie-in to the last Blockbuster store, which is located in Oregon. OK, I get the connection from the tapes to Blockbuster, but while VHS tapes were starting to come out in 1977, the first Blockbuster did not open until 1985.

That’s alright, though, because those are just details, and Miller had used the Tastes Great campaign through the last quarter of the 20th century. Normal old people like me can’t be bothered with dates like that, much less remember them.

This is genius, even if I am not a fan of the brand. I’m just a fan of the old Lite beer cans from the 60s and 70s, when I was starting my collection. We long-time collectors still laugh about how Miller brags as if they invented the brand. We know better.

But the beer drinkers know a good tag line when they see one, and I’m betting this one is going to resonate just as well today as it did 49 years ago. Ready. Set. Drink it up.

Dr “Next Round Is On Me” Gerlich

Audio Blog

[jjaynze]

I really love your art and I especially love the Borderlands stuff. In particular the Hyperion Rebirth AU. I would love to see more or even just explore the idea. Like just how Athena took over, how she did it with Janey and Fiona, they're relationship, Janey's hand, their status in the Borderlands and much more.

If your open to it I do have certain ideas for it.

Like Hyperion falling into what amounts to a civil war with Jack's death, how badly he ran it, and all the money and resources he sunk into Pandora on top of Helios crashing Planetside. Athena and Janey are dragged into one side and Fiona by a another on the company planet of Theia. (The wife of Hyperion and Goddess of sight and brilliance along with gold, silver and gems with their brilliance and value). All three meet once again and start to work together to win control over Hyperion themselves.

oh my god hi!!!! tysm for the ask i never expected anyone to ask me about this old au <3

side note btw that i apparently decided to exclude Fiona from this au 🥲 she’ll likely have an appearance other places but won’t have any direct connections to Hyperion

under the cut is a very unorganized set of pictures + explanations of what i had in mind for Hyperion’s Rebirth:

—-—-—

ORIGINS

to start, i just want to mention how this au came to be.

it was mostly fun and games tbh, where i was in an era between playing BL3 and BLTPS constantly. although i never used them, i found it ironic that in BL3, the Hyperion weapons had shields extremely similar to Athena’s shield.

since i was SUPER disappointed that Athena didn’t even at least have a mention in an ECHO, and i was SUPER deprived of content of her, i decided to make a FUN, NON-CANON ALTHOUGH HEAVILY LORE-BASED, COMPLETELY SELF-INDULGENT AU where Athena had taken over Hyperion just bc she wanted to 😇 starting this project in 2021, i would work on this on and off for my own enjoyment

flashforward only one year later—

………..hashtag goals 🤟🏼. never worked on it for a while even before ntftbl was announced unfortunately 💔

HYPERION ITSELF

you were very spot on with the concept of Hyperion being on the planet Theia, i was super confused seeing it bc i never remembered sharing anything about this 😭😭

i wanted Hyperion to be SUPER heavily reinforced, because of how widely loathed the company is, its history, and because of the overall environment of Theia. every few hours, the surface shifts from entire slabs of the floor, taken from the idea of plate tectonics.

i was also gonna work on the unique fauna, just like how Pandora has skags and Eden-6 has jabbers !! i had only given it caracals since they’re my favorite animal :,3

blands LOVES their greek myth motifs so i wanted to apply that here also

a common trend with the corporations was that each tend to have some kind of second base. i used Selene and Eos, since they were also the children of Theia and Hyperion (Helios isn’t present since it crashed obv).

i never had any ideas for Selene, but an idea i had for EOS was that it was an underwater ship.

CHARACTERS

THIS I WANT TO TALK ABOUT THE MOST!!!

a very specific headcanon i have for Athena is that it isn’t her real name. she was very young at the time she was taken into Atlas, where they had actually given the assassins different names. her real name is Gayle Alvarez, to which she rejects as symbolism to how she’s letting go over her past after all these years, accepting who she is now. (she gave herself that last name “Hoplite” tho LMAO)

^^ this all comes from that fact that i was VERY petty over the fact that her sister, Jess, should’ve been named Minerva. it makes more sense to me idk

ANYWAYS this just describes Athena and Janey’s positions in Hyperion just a little bit. Athena is obviously the CEO and Janey has taken position to where she had designed almost everything.

in terms of the third point, i had actually wanted to make the Voice of Hyperion to be a prominent character in here also!! i didn’t get too far with her unfortunately 💔

FUN FACT i was actually also gonna bring HoloJack as a character concept, although he’s just stuck in an ECHO device. i was thinking that in order to run Hyperion, Athena would need the advice of an ex-CEO. they both only agree to an exchange of management tips for a new body. Athena obviously flanks out after getting Hyperion into a suitable condition, then stuffing the ai into a submachine gun and launching it towards the furthest planet 🤔 it was a funny concept but i dropped it after a while

—

on to something more specific, i do wanna mention this art piece, which ties into another one of my headcanons.

Janey was born on Elpis, being present before and after the Crackening. as it occurred, she had been exposed to whatever unstable eridium had managed to leak through, all without her knowledge—she barely remembers anything of the sort happening

TO SUMMARIZE, Janey is like the Lost Legion Eternals, specifically, a Phasewalker!!!! from the game, the LLEs only ascend once reaching a near-death situation, which explains why Janey never figured it out. the closest she did was when she and her ex gf were mauled by Flamey, where her Phasewalking activated and she managed to get away.

STORY

there is no story, sorry. 😓🤕

the closest i have are unofficial concepts, since i had literally almost zero experience and knowledge in world building.

the main idea i had focused on was something to do with Athena’s old Atlas squad, the Omega Assassins. from some, currently undecided decision, Vulcana, Hera, Minerva, Ceresia, and Helicon found themselves alive, even after supposed elimination from the BL1 Vault Hunters. despite her betrayal, they wanted Athena back, and would do anything to prevent her from settling away.

ALSO, another idea was that after the Omega Assassins found out that Athena was married/engaged, they had cut off her ring finger. this explains why i drew her wearing her rings on a chain near her chest.

below is an extra character development attempt which i had named “scene where janey plays the guitar”

this takes place moments after the assassins kidnap Athena and destroy their home for, again, some undecided reason 😭 i wanted to study Janey’s devotion towards a happy life, since i would also think of her having extreme attachment issues. she’s typically the optimistic character that sees the good through any situation, so i wanted to try to see how she would face against her everything being taken away from her again.

i also gave Janey a resentment of anything that resembles a kraggon, no matter how friendly☝🏼

—-—-—

i wish i had worked on this au so much more than what i shared. i was extremely passionate about it and i kinda still am!! even with how half-assed most of the lore is with blands, i still absolutely DEVOUR any little bit of canon Athena content available.

a COMPLETE story of Hyperion’s Rebirth is unfortunately unlikely now, especially with how it’s heavily implied to be. CANON now 😰😰. i would love to work on it again, but i just don’t really see a reason to 💔

tysmm for the ask again, i appreciate it a lot!! i rambled a bit too much but i wouldn’t mind talking much more about the little ideas i have ^_^ 💐

[hasarjunadoneanythingwrong]

If Nasu wasn't a coward he would have done something like Sefar didn't kill all the gods, the remaining ones are just fragments and you have to fight actual pieces of gods. But no the man said my special oc has killed all gods in existence at the exact same moment in time.

incredibly i have also talked about this specific thing here b4. i also dont know why its being brought again now

anyway my largest issue with sefar is the fact that the timeline given for when it comes and kills all the gods doesnt match up with any of the gods its alleged to have killed. for reference, it is stated to have reached earth around 12000 BCE. the fucking problem with this is that none of the civilizations we are familiar with (or indeed, that fate mentions) EXISTED BACK THEN. for context, the person considered 'humanity's oldest hero' the guy that all other heroes are based off of even if their cultures were too far away for that bit to make sense, gilgamesh, has the first instances of his epic reliably recorded as having first being written down around 2100BCE. 10000 years AFTER sefar is alleged to have hit the moon and earth simultaneously (and indeed, been reported to have been killed/sealed). while its very likely that his tale existed in oral form prior to this i HIGHLY doubt his story was 10000 years old before it was first committed to paper in the fateverse and they simply never mentioned it (he mentions his father having met sefar and sefar spared him in extella so he is presumably contemporary to sefar, although this may be his typical grandstanding)

and thats just gilgamesh. sefar is also noted to have the sword of mars (specifically mars) that she gained from defeating him in combat, but rome itself was not founded until 753BCE and worship of mars didn't reach it's height until 250AD. Even if we look at his greek counterpart, ares, afaik he only first starts showing up around 1200BCE so he's off from both sefar date AND gilgamesh date. even zeus isnt a god until around 2000BCE, and if i can trust the internet greek religion as we know it wasnt properly established until 750BCE. other gods mentioned in relation to sefar have the same issue, although finding out when they first rose to prominance as gods is difficult- odin similarly seems to be exist by the 1st century AD.

ironically, when i was looking to see if ANY gods that show up in fate could potentially have existed in some form (even if under a different name) when sefar is mentioned to have landed it seems like shiva is a possible contender, as prehistoric paintings from pre 10000 BCE are thought to potentially be of him. and yet, the hindu pantheon is one of the few ones that ISNT mentioned in relation to sefar at all lmao

so like what does this mean? either:

sefar DIDNT land on earth 12000 years ago (because how can you kill gods that dont exist yet)

sefar landed, saw that everyone was still fully prehistoric and went dormant until civilization levels rose enough to start blasting (this doesnt align with what we know of her behavior)

fateverse human history started thousands of years earlier than ours but they never bothered mentioning it in anything and it hasnt effected anything of note

sefar landed and killed a bunch of paleolithic gods and nomadic tribespeople before getting killed and shes retoractively trying to convince us that no, i totally bodied zeus, just trust me bro-

sefar got jumped by a bunch of gods that no longer exist/exist under different names and like also shiva and they just dont want to talk about it and are just making shit up. shut up

sefar landed and got her shit rocked by a paleolithic human with a sacred sword (funniest outcome that had to have been the first metal object ever. we were literally still figuring out farming)

the writers either dont know shit about prehistory or they do and put this in specifically to annoy me.

i literally said i wasnt going to get into this bc ive already talked about this on this blog and wow. look at that. ive gotten into it again. anyway anon hope you like this ig

[talenlee]

The Girl Who Loved Powerglide

Wait wait wait no this is about Transformers.

Transformers, in the 1980s, was a toy commercial. It was a toy commercial in the purest sense; every component that made it up was made in service of its purpose as a commercial material that was meant to frame commercials around it. It was, in the way that modern creators are struggling to avoid mentioning, hash-tag-content. There’s a standard opening, a standard ending, and three bumpers for just before The Commercials (Transformers Will Be Back, After These Messages) but those messages weren’t important. Those messages were other people paying Transformers money for making Transformers, but Transformers was double dipping. They were getting paid money to sell the space for these advertisements in their advertisement, for their toys. These bumpers were so important that in some episodes, the third bumper would appear, then an ad break and you’d wait through the ad break to come back to just watch the ending credits of the show. Got me again, there!

These toys imposed a material demand on Transformers as a cartoon. Episodes wanted to focus on the toys that you could buy, and this meant that people got attached to toys with certain trends. For example, while there was Fortress Maximus, that toy had an original price tag of around $99 United States Eaglebucks, and as a result, there were maybe four or five episodes of the show that bothered to show you anything to do with Fortress Maximus despite him being basically a city they lived in.

By comparison there was a line of toys, the cheaper, more accessible ones that were priced more like a GI Joe, and those characters showed up more in the cartoon. If you recognise the names Bumblebee, Cliffjumper, Seaspray, Beachcomber, Warpath or Windcharger, yeah, it’s those critters. There are other high prominence toys – Grimlock, Optimus Prime, Grimlock, Wheeljack, Grimlock, that kinda thing, but in a lot of cases, those characters were central to stories because they proved useful.

Basically, there were some toys where they were ubiquitous; lots of people had them, to the point where even I had one or two of them because they wound up in the second hand store for a really cheap price. The toys were simple, they didn’t break terribly easily, or if they broke it was in forgiveable ways. One of those names, in that space, is the unfortunately-named-in-hindsight character Powerglide.

There’s a whole lot I could say about Powerglide as a character. The fact that he’s one of the most incredibly recognised warplanes in the world, which was then given a writeup by one of the seven people in the world who didn’t seem to recognise him, and gave him a completely incongruous description and identity? That’s pretty funny and there’s a whole history of how that design has been repeated because it’s so distinctive. And what about that personality? Well, he’s a bit of a tool, really, because it’s 1980s cartoons and they’re mostly being written by guys who are angling for more of what the voice actors can easily convey than any kind of long-term character narrative with development.

And this is the character that for some reason, an episode of the Transformers cartoon decided to make the centerpiece of a story about a boy, a girl, and an attempted kidnapping by giant alien robots.

It’s one episode of the story, in which a CEO of some company or another, Astoria, gets almost-kidnapped from her rooftop birthday party by a trio of Decepticon seekers. Astoria is a comically awful character, like, she’s a woman written like a girl as imagined a four year old might understand, and her quirky trait is that machines around her fail and break. Which you might imagine could be expressed by some kind of field or magical power, but it also seems to be related to her being a clumsy goof who shoves and pushes things and ignores people telling her to stop.

Just to be clear, Astoria is awful. She demands business leaders attend her birthday party then complains they’re not having fun. She sucks. Even as she fails to instil The Party Mood with this demand, she asserts ‘it’s my party, and I’ll cry if I want to,’ which yes, I guess it is!

I don’t like rubbishing on women in media, but this is very important to this episode, that Astoria isn’t a misunderstood character. She just is a straight up jerk who does unpleasant things to peope. And Powerglide is also a dork who talks down to her, so, you know, match made in heaven.

Anyway, Powerglide rescues her from a kidnapping, then another kidnapping attempt, then gets injured failing to rescue her from another kidnapping attempt, and in the process gets injured. But he’s not content with going down! He gets a bit of medical help and then flies off to help her, before Astoria gets her brains scrambled by a Decepticon brain-scrambler machine. There’s a climactic ‘fight,’ Astoria’s ability to break things becomes important to her breaking the base they’re in, the Decepticons wind up at the bottom of the sea, and Powerglide flies Astoria off to rescue. Astoria goes back to her life, and Powerglide goes back to his own – but not before opening his chest up and showing us, the audience, a flashing set of lights in his chest in the shape of a heart.

This is goofy, and I like it, but it’s undeniably a story where you have to look at the shape of it rather than the execution. It’s not like these characters kiss or have an ongoing relationship. Astoria doesn’t show up in the series again and she’s a joke reference at the best of times. After all, if she was going to show up again, as a person who could just inherently jam machines and who’s strong enough to get punched and thrown around by computers, and laugh off a brain scrambler that finds her brain to be empty – I mean, this seems a character who’d be somewhat significant.

I assume.

This is a fun little story in the context of Transformers but what makes it really funny is that it’s not even the only time that the original G1 series made a romance between a totally normal – ostensibly – human and a popular cheap toy-line transformer. It’s just this one is particularly funny because no two ways about it, both Astoria and Powerglide suck.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[parasol-lane]

Basic understanding of 1984

*SPOILERS AHEAD FOR 1984 BOOK* *This post is also just based on my view on the book based on what I understand and what I read(in the book)/watched on the internet* *and because I am posting this so just I can explain to my friend about 1984, I won't be putting any other sources nor putting them in order as followed in the book, and apologies for any mistakes*

Intro to the book: 1984 is a dystopian novel written by George Orwell (real name: Eric Blair) in 1948/49 which was directed at the Soviet Union and a bit of N*zi Germany (and other similar communist countries in general that has a dictatorship) and Stalin's dictatorship.

Scene Takes place in the year 1984 in dystopian Great Britain (In the book is called Airstrip One) Airstrip One is one of the three supercontinents in the book whic is Oceania (The three supercontinuents are Oceania, Eastasia and Eurasia) Oceania spans from the British isles, the entire North and South American territory, parts of South Africa until Australia and New Zealand. Eurasia spans the entirety of Europe and Russia. Eastasia spans from Japan, through Korea and China, all the way down to Malaysia as shown in the pic below

Oceania is ruled under a party known as INGSOC (INGSOC = ING SOC = Inglish Socialism = English Socialism) and its leader, Big Brother. The English language (which in the book is called Oldspeak = standard english) is slowly being wiped out and replaced with Newspeak where terms are shortened, distorted or completely removed to fit INGSOC's agenda). The hierarchy is divided into three parts, the Inner Party (Higher-ups and officials most loyal to INGSOC and Big Brother), Outer Party (Other less prominent party members) and finally, the Proles (proletariat, according to the book are uneducated people, peasants)

Oceania, or more accurately INGSOC holds the following three principles: War Is Peace Freedom Is Slavery Ignorance Is Strength Part 1 We get introduced to our protagonist and the world of 1984, his name is Winston Smith, a worker in the outer partyThe poor living conditions in his home, Victory Mansion are soon mentioned. Orwell then introduced another "character" known as Big Brother, a person on posters who has a strict looking face and a moustache (A reference possibly to Stalin), it is not known if Big Brother is real. It becomes obvious how brutal the dictatorship is, all Inner and Outer party members have a TV (called Telescreen in the book) which shows propaganda videos and it comes with a camera that watches the members every move in their house. Any small hints of revolt means death for the person. In simple terms, what one speaks or even think(!!) can be illegal, which is known as Thoughtcrime (Even talking in your dreams about going against Big Brother is a crime, this will be mentioned later). One will be arrested by the Thoughtpolice if involved in such crime

We then learn about Winston Smith works at the Ministry of Truth (The propaganda wing of INGSOC where ironically lies are being produced) Winston is responsible with twisting the truth to meet INGSOC's agenda. (For example: A former high ranking officer was [possibly] accused of going against Big Brother and is now an unperson*, Winston now has to create a fake dead person who never existed to replace this actually dead person) "Comrade Ogilvy, who had never existed in the present, now existed in the past, and when once the act of forgery was forgotten, he would exist just as authentically, and upon the same evidence, as Charlemagne or Julius Caesar."

Winston remembers years ago, he saw a picture (before burning it) of three prominent INGSOC inner party members attended a delegation in New York, they were all arrested executed and became unperson/unpeople and history of them never existed. But the picture was proof that they did exist before. *Unperson means someone who is removed from history by a dictatorship / removed as in completely never born ever. *Before I continue, I should introduce the ministries of 1984. Ministries are as follows: -Ministry of Truth (Newspeak: Minitrue) -Ministry of Love (Newspeak: Miniluv) (the ministry where people are "reeducated" via [ironically] torture -Ministry of Peace (Newspeak: Minipax) (the war Ministry of Oceania which ironically is responsible for creating a forever war between Oceania and the other supercontinents) -Ministry of Plenty (Newspeak: Miniplenty) (Ministry that controls the food that is given to the people)

Another example of the Ministry of Truth manipulating the news was when one day they announced a bad news that chocolate rations were reduced to 20 grams from 30 grams. But the next day, the news announced that it has increased to 20 grams instead of decrease.

“It appeared that there had even been demonstrations to thank Big Brother for raising the chocolate ration to twenty grammes a week. And only yesterday, he reflected, it had been announced that the ration was to be REDUCED to twenty grammes a week. Was it possible that they could swallow that, after only twenty-four hours?"

And the most interesting part is that everyone seemed to believe it without once questioning it.

Next in this part, we are also met with Winston's neighbours, the Parsons. They have two children showing absolute loyalty to Big Brother and were throwing a big tamper tantrum for being unable to get to watch the hanging of war prisoners from Eastasia. Their loyalty was scary, children were taught to betray their parents of their parents ever showed one sign of betrayal towards INGSOC.

"It was almost normal for people over thirty to be frightened of their own children."

The party also holds a thing called Two-minutes Hate where Inner and Outer Party members are gathered in a large hall and a video of Emmanuel Goldstein is played (Goldstein was loyal to Big Brother before he worked with resistance groups and was assumed to be executed)(It is unknown whether Goldstein is actually real or made up by the party) In this two minutes hate, party members boo and jeer at Goldstein, showing their hate and anger until finally an image of Big Brother is played and the members shows relieve and start chanting B.B. (short for Big Brother). This shows how brainwashed people are by their government that they show absolute loyalty.

It is here we are introduced to a new character from the inner party known as O'Brien (who, to Winston's observations is an ally against Big Brother). In this part, we are also met with two other charcters, Julia and Mr. Charrington. Mr Charrington is a pawn shop owner, selling things from before the Revolution and where Winston got his diary from. Winston meanwhile, hates Julia, to him, she always looked suspicious, thinking that she works for the Thoughtpolice as a spy.

Finally another character we get introduced to is Syme, WInston's "friend" who is responsible in the production of the 11th edition of the Newspeak dictionary.

“It's a beautiful thing, the destruction of words. Of course the great wastage is in the verbs and adjectives, but there are hundreds of nouns that can be got rid of as well. It isn't only the synonyms; there are also the antonyms. After all, what justification is there for a word which is simply the opposite of some other words? A word contains its opposite in itself. Take 'good,' for instance. If you have a word like 'good,' what need is there for a word like 'bad'? 'Ungood' will do just as well--better, because it's an exact opposite, which the other is not. Or again, if you want a stronger version of 'good,' what sense is there in having a whole string of vague useless words like 'excellent' and 'splendid' and all the rest of them? 'Plusgood' covers the meaning, or 'doubleplusgood' if you want something stronger still...In the end the whole notion of goodness and badness will be covered by only six words--in reality, only one word. Don't you see the beauty of that, Winston?”

That excerpt from the book gives a quick summary of how Newspeak works

*Okay I am writing a little too long, maybe I shall shorten for the next few parts* Now I will give a summary of a summary rather than story telling * 💀💀

Part Two

We reached the part where the subplot is introduced, Winston got to know Julia after she had confessed. They started dating though in secrecy (Dating between party members is a taboo). They met at a forest where they made love after they made sure the coast was clear.

Making love in Airstrip One is strict, almost forbidden, there is even the league, Junior Anti-Sex League which aims to end sexual pleasure once and for all. Sex is only seen as a chore like sweeping or cleaning the house, doing it out of obligation instead of an act of pleasure, the party eliminates the pleasure of making love.

And since Winston and Julia made love with pleasure, they are already criminals.

“The sexual act, successfully performed, was rebellion. Desire was thoughtcrime.”

Later in the story, they decided to do making love at the room above Mr Charrington's shop where there was no telescreens to catch them.

After that, O'Brien suddenly called on Winston and Julia and invited them to join the resistance group known as the Brotherhood which was believed to be ran by Goldstein. They showed their pledge until when they were asked if they were willing to break up/betray each other if they were told to, they immediately said no, showing their love and loyalty to each other.

"Confessing isn't betrayal. I mean feelings. If they can make me change my feelings. If they can stop me from loving you, that would be real betrayal."

They were given a book which told them about the three principles of INGSOC (which I mentioned above)

“The war is not meant to be won, it is meant to be continuous. Hierarchical society is only possible on the basis of poverty and ignorance. This new version is the past and no different past can ever have existed. In principle the war effort is always planned to keep society on the brink of starvation. The war is waged by the ruling group against its own subjects and its object is not the victory over either Eurasia or East Asia, but to keep the very structure of society intact.”

Finally, one day when they were resting in the room after making love, there was a voice shouting at them, ordering them to stand still and not move. A picture fell down, revealing the telescreen hidden behind it and Big Brother was watching them all the while.

It is the Mr Charrington all the while was a spy for the Thoughtpolice andwas also responsible in the capture of Winston and Julia by the Thoughtpolice.

Part 3

Winston wakes up in what he believes is the Ministry of Truth, in a room where there are no windows and just a telescreen. He is starved and not allowed to eat and can only sit in one spot. If he even moves out of the sight of the telescreen, he will scolded. People came and went in the room with him. Until he saw Mr Pason, his neighbour. He was arrested after his 7 year old daughter turned him in to the Thoughtpolice for rebellious thoughts while sleeping (he was sleep talking as mentioned earlier)

"‘Who denounced you?’ said Winston. ‘It was my little daughter,’ said Parsons with a sort of doleful pride. ‘She listened at the keyhole. Heard what I was saying, and nipped off to the patrols the very next day."

These prisoners were taken to the infamous Room 101. Soon Winston was taken to torture (not yet in room 101). It was revealed that O'Brien too was part of the Thoughtpolice as well. This shows that in such a universe, you can hardly trust anyone. Who you may see as your ally may actually turn out to be an enemy. Same as assuming one is an enemy (Remember, Winston always assumed Julia was part of the Thoughtpolice and he thought O'Brien was an ally)

He was electrocuted as O'Brien confronted and "reeducated" him. Here we come to learn about the concept of 2+2=5. Doublethink as they call it, the act of accepting two contrary beliefs as one (Best example is the three principles of INGSOC) O'Brien makes Winston believe that 2+2=5 even though Winston knows that 2+2=4. In the end, Winston gave in because of the torture.

" ‘I don’t know. I don’t know. You will kill me if you do that again. Four, five, six—in all honesty I don’t know.’ "

O'Brien then confronted Winston about the picture (as I had mentioned above) Winston said he was certain he saw the picture, but O'Brien denied it, saying it never existed and gaslit Winston.

" ‘It exists!’ he cried. ‘No,’ said O’Brien. He stepped across the room. There was a memory hole in the opposite wall. O’Brien lifted the grating. Unseen, the frail slip of paper was whirling away on the current of warm air; it was vanishing in a flash of flame. O’Brien turned away from the wall. ‘Ashes,’ he said. ‘Not even identifiable ashes. Dust. It does not exist. It never existed.’ ‘But it did exist! It does exist! It exists in memory. I remember it. You remember it.’ ‘I do not remember it,’ said O’Brien. "

And finally Winston came to accepting it never existed even though he know it exists (this is another example of doublethink) It shows how dictatorship countries control info that their citizen possess.

But still, he loved Julia more than anything else, and of course O'Brien wants to change that, they sent him to be further reeducated in Room 101. A room where it is said they have your biggest fears. Winston's biggest fear is rats so he had a cage put around his head and a rat in that cage which is near to his face and almost biting him. He screamed in fear and finally broke down and betrayed Julia.

" 'Do it to Julia! Do it to Julia! Not me! Julia! I don’t care what you do to her. Tear her face off, strip her to the bones. Not me! Julia! Not me!’ "

In the end, he loved only one person and that person is Big Brother.

Anyways, that's all comrades! (2400 words est.)

[fireandspiceland]

Nation America discovering hes gay in a war scenario? (Doesnt have to be with another nation bit if so Russia)

okay so it took me a while to find a good way to approach this because due to my lack in interest while I was in school and very boring teachers I have like zero knowledge about american and russian history. but uhm. heres a fictional little war setting :)

-> mentions of war (duh), feelings, this is kinda sad tbh, first kiss, absolutely no historical accuracy or relations to any real life events

"Fuck!" America cried out, but immediately gritted his teeth when the sharp pain eased slightly. He took a few deep breaths through his nose, trying to relax his body and calm down. By now he should be used to this, but the thick girth of Ivan's cock spreading him open still always came as a surprise.

It’d been nearly a year since he had left home, about 9 months that he knew Ivan, and precisely 147 days since they had come up with this arrangement. It had been winter, the freezing cold gnawing at their clothes, their skin, their bones. It had been the biggest cliche Alfred could imagine to happen, but if they hadn’t wanted to freeze to death they had had to share the little warmth that still was radiating from their sore bodies. Getting out of the layers of clothes and wrapped up in each other’s limbs, a pile of dirty uniforms, and worn out sleeping bags had been a fight on its own. But it had saved their lives that night, which was more than some of their comrades could claim.

When morning had approached, the storm had already subsided and Alfred had woken up to the sound of Ivan’s uneven breath and squirming. Only when the sounds coming from Ivan had started to become a little louder, Alfred had identified them as moans rather than whines. He remembered how he had suddenly felt a cold shiver run down his spine when Ivan’s rather prominent erection had been rubbing against his thigh. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, the exhaustion, the constant fear of dying or just overall insanity taking over, but Alfred wasn’t grossed out then. And he wasn’t grossed out now.

Now that he was clawing to the edge of the sink he was bent over in the small tent that served as a bathroom, while his comrade repeatedly thrust into him.

Alfred tried not to focus on the act itself, as he always did. Thinking about how they were two men who fucked each other for the sake of it, for the lack of better options, and to forget about the world outside for a moment.. it wasn't something he wanted to put too much thought into.

A quick look back confirmed that Ivan's eyes were pressed shut, tongue darting out to wetten his lips that were dried out from panting. Alfred wondered who Ivan had on his mind while he fucked him. They never talked much about their private life. Was there someone waiting for him back home? A girlfriend? A fiancé? Maybe even a wife? Did he have childre-

"Ah! That's.. god.."

Alfred's entire body had jerked forward when Ivan grazed his prostate, hitting the edge of the sink into his lower stomach, but the pain was immediately overridden by pleasure. Strong hands gripped Alfred's hips and pulled him back, thumbs caressing his spread cheeks as Ivan's thrust became faster and deeper.

With a muffled groan Ivan spilled into the condom, his grip bruising Alfred's pale hips. When Ivan's cock had stopped twitching inside him, Alfred cleared his throat, pulling Ivan from his orgasmic bliss.

"S-sorry.."

Ivan shakily removed his hands from Alfred's body and slowly pulled out before getting rid of the condom. Alfred took a moment to catch his breath before straightening up from his crouched position and pulling the bottoms of his uniform and underwear back up.

"Wait, Fredka.. You're.."

With a vague gesture Ivan referred to the obvious bulge straining Alfred's pants. He tried to dismiss the comment with a gesture of his own and a forced smile, but when Ivan approached him and freed his erection again, his throat went dry.

"What are you..? It's really not.."

"No, Fredka. We are comrades. We have each other's back, no? I shall return what you did for me. I don't like being indebted when I don't know how long I'm alive to return the favour."

For a moment Alfred studied the look in Ivan's eyes, but he couldn't find anything else than genuineness. He gave a curt nod before Ivan sank to his knees and took a hold of his hard cock, stroking it slowly.

The ground was cold and uninviting, but Ivan's pride and sense of duty didn't allow him to leave Alfred behind without taking care of the other man's needs as well. It didn't matter if it was out there on the battlefield or in here in the small tent, Ivan wouldn't leave his comrade behind. He wrapped his lips around the tip of Alfred's length, sucking gently while he kept stroking the shaft. His eyes were closed, but he looked up when he felt fingers gently carding through his hair.

Alfred's eyes were pressed shut, his mouth covered by one hand to avoid letting the entire company partake in their activities, when he felt Ivan's hand on his own at the side of his head. His eyes flew open at the gentle touch, but Ivan kept sucking and stroking unperturbed, only showing Alfred that he can use his mouth just like he had used him a few minutes ago.

Gradually, Alfred tightened the hold he had on Ivan's head, fisting his hair as he guided his mouth up and down his cock. He wanted to close his eyes again and think of.. what did he want to think of again? Watching his length disappear between Ivan's lips was almost hypnotic, strands of fair hair whipping back and forth, his nose close to touching the curly pubes.

Ivan opened his eyes when Alfred forced himself deeper down his throat, making him choke and tear up. The way Ivan's mouth and throat constricted around Alfred's cock sent a hot wave of pleasure through his body. He kept watching Ivan as he quickened his pace and couldn't stop looking at the man at his feet. He was beautiful. The glassy eyes, flawless skin, soft hair, plush lips.. Oh, those lips. He wondered how they would feel. How it would feel to kiss the man who had saved his life a few times since he met him. The man who was always at his side, who he trusted with his life.

"Ivan.. Please.."

Alfred yanked him off his cock at the collar of Ivan's jacket and up into standing position, before pulling him into a heated kiss. Ivan stiffened for a moment, too shocked to do anything but let Alfred kiss his wet lips. When the initial surprise had worn off and Alfred was about to pull back, Ivan grabbed the back of his head to kiss him again. His other hand was still stroking Alfred's cock, movements now getting faster as Alfred thrust into his hand.

"Fuck, I'm gon-"

The sentence ended with a moan that Ivan swallowed. He kept his focus on the sensitive head of Alfred's cock, rubbing it with his thumb until he had to bite Alfred's lip so he wouldn't let the entire company know about his climax.

Alfred had quickly cupped one hand over the tip of his cock so as to not stain their uniforms. He fell back against the sink, making it the one thing that kept him on his legs once again. Only when Ivan was sure Alfred had ridden out his orgasm, he let go of his lips and stepped away.

He gave Alfred a lopsided smile and straightened out his uniform, while the other man could only watch him in shock and awe. Awe about Ivan's effortless beauty, and shock about the realisation that he was about to fall head over heels for a man who he might spend the rest of his life with.

[fangirl-erdariel]

I know I talk every now and then about all the changes that the LOTR trilogy did that I wish they hadn't and that make me froth at the mouth. So I thought, for a change, I'd talk about something in the books that I, personally, would alter if I got to make an adaptation of LOTR. (Now, this is pretending that I'd basically have infinite time to put everything I want into it and wouldn't have to concern myself with how to get it into a given timeframe. But I do think that you could probably get this to fit even into something limited like a movie trilogy if you wanted to and were clever about it)

I would make Boromir talk about Faramir and Denethor more. In the books, iirc he only really brings them up during the Council of Elrond, as he explains who he is and what he's doing in Rivendell, and I'm not actually 100% certain if he mentions Faramir by name or if he refers to him only as his brother. Beyond that, as far as I remember, he really pretty much just talks about Gondor as a country and its people in general, not really Faramir or Denethor specifically. At least with Faramir, it's kinda understandable, since I know a lot of LOTR kinda evolved and developed as it was being written, and iirc Faramir specifically was a character who wasn't originally intended to really be there or have such a prominent role as he did, he just sort of appeared as Tolkien was writing the Ithilien bit of The Two Towers. But for anyone now, anyone who makes an adaptation of LOTR, the book has been written, we know what's going to happen and which characters exist in it.

And I just feel like, it's not a big thing, but it would probably be good for an adaptation if Boromir talked about his family a bit. It doesn't even need to be that much and the details he tells about don't need to be that important or that relevant to the plot, but you could easily add in a few scenes here and there during the travel sequences where they're like, idk, just camped somewhere and talking about random stuff, and Boromir just mentions them. Like the scene begins as Aragorn is finishing telling some story about the First Age or whatever and Boromir just says that he'd get along well with Faramir, Faramir is also interested in old legends and history. Another scene, he talks a little about how Denethor rules Gondor, or his approach to military strategy, or something.

It doesn't need to be much, it could be just like three or four brief scattered scenes besides the necessary background and exposition at the Council of Elrond. Just enough to establish that these are people Boromir really cares about. He wants to make his father proud, he knows how heavy the long war has made the burden of leadership his father carries and he wants to ease that, or at least help carry his share of it. He worries about Faramir because sure, Faramir is a capable man, but he's also his little brother and war is dangerous and chaotic and anything could happen and he wants his little brother to be safe and happy. He cares about his family, he loves his family, and he wants to get back to them as soon as he can, preferably with something, be it wisdom, or weapon, or allies in war, that will help Gondor stand against Mordor, but even if that's not possible, what he really, really wants is to just get back to his family, to help his family and keep them safe.

You could, and you should, still also keep in there the talk about Gondor as a realm and its people. Those should still be important to him. But I feel like alongside that, you should add more strongly and clearly there the fact that he has a family and he cares about them a lot.

Partially because while the safety of a realm is a very noble goal and all, it's also kind of very abstract thing (at least to me, but I'd think I'm not the only one). An entire nation is a very big concept and kind of hard to grasp in a concrete way. But family, or like even in a more general way individual people that you really, really care about? That's familiar to most people, I think. Almost anyone probably has at least one other person that they'd be willing to go to really great lengths to help, whose safety and happiness they'd be willing to sacrifice a lot for.

So I think that would also make the temptation of the Ring somewhat easier to grasp, it would give a face to what he's afraid of losing. With the Ring, not only can he ensure Gondor's victory against Mordor, but also the safety of his family. With the Ring, once they've won, he can help his father ensure peace and order and security in every corner of the realm, even the distant borderlands. He can help his father, he can take on more responsibility than he did before, more of the burden and trouble he's watched his father carry for such a long time. And he can make sure Faramir is safe and happy, he can give Faramir whatever he needs or wants from his life, right? Without the Ring, he can't ensure they'll win the war, but even if Frodo's quest by some miracle succeeds, even if they win and Sauron falls and Gondor is saved, which is such a frighteningly slim chance already, how can he really be sure the people he cares about will survive? How could he protect them, really? Especially Faramir, who he knows is out there fighting? Just one hit from a sword in the right place, just one stray arrow, just one blow of a mace is enough to kill a man, and war is chaotic. It doesn't even need to be aimed at Faramir as an officer specifically, though it certainly might be, it could be just blindly hitting whoever happens to be there. It could happen so easily. It wouldn't be an irrational thing to fear, that Faramir might die in battle even if the war itself was eventually won.

Like, sure, even as it is, I can understand why Boromir is tempted by the Ring. I can understand his worry and fear. But the understanding is on this sort of a very abstract level, like I understand why he does what he does, and it is tragic, sure, but it's like... it's just a little too big. Sometimes it's a good idea to scale things down a little, to take individual characters and make a character's worry for them the sort of face of their worry about a bigger, more abstract concept. Like it would just make the tragedy hit harder for me if the story emphasized more the fact that there are also these specific people Boromir really cares about deeply, these are the people he wants to keep safe at any cost.

Besides that, another reason why I think Boromir bringing Faramir and Denethor up a few times more in the story is that that would establish them as characters to the audience and create certain expectations beforehand that you could then use to build on once we meet them later on in the story. They don't need to be 100% in line with what the audience sees, either, you can make Boromir's perception of them different than the way you present them to the audience, if that's something you wanna do. And in fact I feel like it might be one way to help bring more nuance into Denethor's character - something that I feel the PJ trilogy really doesn't have, but there are other posts about it that articulate it better than I could, so I won't go into detail on that yet - and giving us an idea of who Denethor was before grief and despair and Sauron's manipulation started really getting into him.

But yeah, just. This is one of the things that I would actually change from the books if I could make my ideal dream adaptation of LOTR. Just have Boromir talk about his family on screen a little bit more.

[n0tamused]

Hello! Hope you're doing well! So I saw that your requests were open so, may I request something about Kakashi's gf being pregnant but being afraid of telling him? (because he lost so many loved ones, she doesn't want to pressure him into being a father idk if that makes sense) Like she's pregnant but it's not visible yet but she as some symptoms already? Kakashi didn't really noticed until someone mentioned it?

It can be a one shot or a drabble, i'm leaving that to you. But I would like it to be fluff if you don't mind 👉🏼👈🏼

It's really specific i guess and I hope ypu don't mind! If it's bothering you in any way feel free to skip it 😊

Have a nice day/night and take care!

Warnings: pregnancy, throwing up, a hint of angst

Words: 2.406

Kakashi Hatake x Reader

The cashier held the packed groceries for Y/N to take. A polite smile ever-present on her face. "Have a wonderful day!"

She managed to smile back and take the bag into her arms. It wasn't the need for groceries that got Y/n to the store, but another item that got her mind running a few nights ago.

The realization hit her then. She didn't even have to take the test to know it was true. A gut wrenching feeling broke throughout her as she was just passing through an alley, a shortcut to Kakashi and her's shared home. Frozen in place, eyes glued to the floor, she felt the familiar sting of tears in her eyes. Vision getting cloudy and blurry.

She knew Kakashi wouldn't react in a way that would harm her, not in any way, shape or form. But it was hard to deny the fact that it was anxiety inducing, this wasn't something to be taken lightly. Neither of them were planning on kids any time soon. Not to mention the sad history of the Copy-Nin. Even in the beginning of their relationship it took time for him to finally warm up, to really be comfortable with the new intimacy. With receiving such love and care, to finally be safe to be vulnerable. To feel protected and loved and to form an attachment.

The walk home from there felt slow and the wait for the test to show the results was even worse. Nausea raked and coiled in her gut as she sat beside the toilet, having thrown up some time ago. How much time has even passed?

The woman looked forlornly up at the sink where the stick laid. The tiles were cold under her, yet she found herself glued to them, letting the coldness of them seep into her flesh and bones. But eventually she had to get up.

Fear now started to rampage in her system, mind spiraling as her nimble fingers took hold of the test. An unfamiliar haze was brought over her eyes, it made it hard to see but she soon realized that she was staring at two prominent red lines on the small window of the test. Shock. The fear suddenly gone and was replaced with a hollow feeling deep within her which felt even worse. Tears began to sting her eyes again and they came pouring out like a waterfall, in large beads and onto the sink. Cold hands gripped the edge of it for some stability as the woman hunched over it, the test abandoned as the other hand came to knuckle and wipe away the ongoing stream of tears. Silently she let herself cry it out, she couldn't bottle it up any longer. Kakashi wouldn't be home until the sun was already set, and now the sun was still high in the sky.

The woman couldn't look herself in the mirror after that. Hiding the test in her room she decided that it was best to tell her beloved the sooner the better. Hiding it from him would only prolong her fear and anxiety, and she didn't want to imagine the reaction he would have after hearing the news and how much she just waited to tell him. Not to mention it would be quite a task to hide something like this from someone like Kakashi. The evening was spent with a poor attempt to make some food, something to fill the gaping hole in her gut, something to make her feel warmth again. Filled with the vast expanse of helplessness she barely made anything in the end.

When Kakashi arrived home he was met with coldness. Something he became familiar with when Y/n wasn't in the best of moods. He padded through the hall quietly, listening for any sounds that may come, but all he heard was the sound of shuffling. Pushing the door open it unexpectedly creaked, a long cry of the old worn door caused the woman on the bed to startle. Body twisting around like an eel to meet his confused stare.

"Hey, it's just me, love.. What's the matter..?"

He felt worried immediately, he was used to sadness and gloomy moods but he wasn't used to her being so frightened. Not around him. Not on the battlefield and definitely not in the comforts of their shared house.

"Oh I didn't hear you, that's all.."

Came her reply, yet she found yourself moving into him, arms embracing around his middle in a desperate need of comfort. Kakashi didn't hesitate to return the hug, nuzzling his cheek into the side of her head for a moment. Mind running laps in an attempt to figure out what got his belovee like this, but it all came back blank.

"Kakashi I have to talk to you."

The sentence made him stiff, but he nodded and let her lead him to sit on the bed, one arm loosely wrapped around her tense shoulders.

All words that came to her died immediately on her tongue, and swallowing hard her gaze fell to the ground. Eyes threatening to spill tears again but she pushed them back.

"I…"

Y/n tried, but it all felt like bile in her mouth. Not having rest properly,the stress of missions and now this too. It was all catching up to her now. From her peripheral vision she could see the brows of the silver headed ninja furrow in confusion and worry.

"Did something happen? You're looking sickly, are you feeling ill?"

"No."

Her response came a bit too quickly, head shaking before she took a deep breath, exhaling before she looked at him. His eyes searched hers as if he could find the answer that way. Y/n felt horrible. He had gone through enough and all the attempts of telling him about it came to a halt. She couldn't do this to him, not now, he had to rest. She could tell him some time during the week, she told yourself.

"I just… it was a long day, I barely got any rest last night too. I missed you Kakashi.."

His expression suddenly lightened but it did not lose its worry and confusion. She had slept alone the last few nights before work prevented him from coming home at all, so he understood. Yet he couldn't help but feel something was amiss. A small voice at the back of his head whispering something incoherent.

"I missed you too."

He replied and pulled her into another embrace. Sighing out his worry he focused solely on caressing her, hoping that would ease the stress and worries of that day. And it seemed to work. For the rest of the night they both rested in each other's arms, leading a small talk about random things, it eased both of them and even made them forget about worries and fears. In the morning, when Kakashi was getting dressed and Y/n, watching him with sleep heavy eyelids, he came to crouch before her and kiss her on the forehead. Telling her something about how he'll leave Pakkun with her that day. Smiling when he saw you blink at him, trying to grasp at his words. In the end she only nodded and attempted to wipe away the sleep from her eyes as he left.

And as promised, Pakkun remained at her side. He would occasionally chip in to say something, and even the nin asked if she were alright, saying how something felt off now. Y/N only nodded, everything was fine.

Y/N missed going on missions but ever since she started feeling so ill, she was given several days off, not that she had any choice but to accept as even Kakashi was fussing that she couldn't fight in such a condition.

In the middle of the day the nausea returned. Y/N have just eaten freshly prepared lunch and it all came back up soon after. Toppled over the toilet seat she took in a mouthful of air when she finally felt her gut settle down. Pakkun sat at the door to the bathroom, worried look plastered on his canine face.

"Hey, you should really go and visit a medic. This has been going on for a while, it can't be any good."

She heard him say through buzzing ears, a static feeling coursing through her as an after effects of having thrown up. Pushing herself away she stood on shaky legs, feeling a tad bit better but awfully tired. Only a nod came in response to his words before she padded into the living room to sit down only to end up passing away on the couch. Head feeling heavier and heavier until she felt the plush material of the couch press against the side of her face. Hands curled around a pillow she placed over her stomach, some semblance of comfort and warmth coming from it.

Meanwhile Pakkun slowly waltzed into the bedroom, hoping to find a blanket he could drag back to Y/N. Taking the corner of the folded blanket in his maw he moved back, paws pushing into the slippery surface of the polished wood. Groaning he forcefully pulled, the blanket now flying out from under the rest of the folded sheets, making Pakkun fly back and hit the work desk. If it weren't for the clank of something falling from the top drawer, the ninken would've ignored it. But the item that fell at his paws even made him stop in his tracks. His ears pinned back in surprise. It fit like a puzzle piece, the girl's weird illness finally made sense. He figured Kakashi didn't know, otherwise he would've said something along the lines of that his partner was pregnant.

Nonetheless, Pakkun figured out why that was the case too, he knew Y/N well enough, but seeing how things were going he decided to tell Kakashi on his own. To spare her some of the stress of it all. Before he took his leave he did manage to drape the soft blanket over the woman's figure, having had to jump on the couch and do quite some pulling to get it over her all while staying silent.

Pakkun found Kakashi just when he was heading home, in one of the paths between two houses that he called a shortcut. Abruptly halting the ninken panted, his gaze narrowing at Kakashi's figure.

"Hey boss. I have something to tell you."

Pakkun started, perched up on one of the roof ledges where he stared down at Kakashi who didn't quite expect him to see him there. Exposed eye widened at the sight of him, the worst coming to his mind.

"What are you- is Y/N alright?"

The silver head blurted out before he could think of anything else, hands falling out of his pockets. Kakashi already felt a small tightness in his chest, anxiety creeping up on him.

"Y/N is just fine, but why I'm here does concern her."

Pakkun responded as he made his way down from the roof, hopping from ledge to window and window and to the ground. Now standing in front of Kakashi he huffed and looked up at him.

"You really should look into bigger homes, you're gonna get a small addition soon."

At that Kakashi looked at him, guffawed. Silence followed soon after Pakkun spoke, Kakashi at loss of words as he still tried to make out the riddle the sentence represented. "What..are you saying?"

Kakashi looked at Pakkun quizzically, even as the puzzle pieces slowly fell in his head as well, he was still slow to fully process the information.

"Y/n is with a child, Kakashi."

---------

When you woke the next time the sun had already been setting, only the small arch of the sun was visible on the horizon. The sky painted in warm and vibrant colors of orange and red. Your head swam with the unconscious, still not grasping the sensation of being awake yet. Eyes blinking lazily at the bedroom window. Wait…

Finally breathing in you felt the blanket tucked around you. Yet Kakashi was not there with you. A small sense of panic grasped you as you sat up, looking around. Sleep hazed mind sent you into a frantic state and almost instantly you found yourself searching for the pregnancy stick where you hid it. It wasn't there. It was not there. Pushing books and papers aside you still couldn't find it. It was not there.

"Y/n."

Kakashi's voice rang out and you turned around. He wasn't wearing his uniform, nor his mask. A simple gray shirt clung to his figure along with some black sweatpants. He held the door open with his hand, a small hint of worry was present on his face. His lips pressed together in a thin line before he approached you and pulled you into himself. You now knew that he knew. A shaky breath escaped you as you still waited for him to speak up first but that never came. He just held you there, caressing up and down your back.

"Kakashi… "

You started but your voice soon trailed off.

"I know. Pakkun told me today." He stated simply, nose brushing against your hair and inhaling your scent.

"Oh… I was planning on telling you myself.. I just didn't...I didn't know how to tell you last night.. I'm sorry."

You felt him nod against you, humming in response. And to your surprise, you felt him smile.

"It's alright. I'm not angry… It is a bit surprising but I could never be angry at you, not for this.. Please do not feel afraid anymore, it's alright."

Kakashi reassured, pulling away just enough to move his hands to cup the sides of your face. Looking into your eyes he saw the anxiety you held melt away, his own anxiety disappearing as well. He felt nothing but pure love for you. He wouldn't like anyone else to start a family with but you.

His thumb brushed over your cheekbone and then he leaned in and pressed his lips to your temple, holding you like that for a moment before he pulled away. A smile pulled at the corners of his lips, a smile you soon mirrored when you saw it. Leaning down slowly he pulled you into a kiss, you meeting him half way and smiling into the kiss.

[pa-panda-heroes]

heya! how about a scenario where shiggy accidentally hurts the reader with his quirk and like, freak tf out? angsts with lots and lots of fluff, please! ty! ♥︎

Okokok imma do my best for my first angst!! Also I added Dabi because I got a request for him a while back and I’ve wanted to write him for a bit, now <3 hope that’s okay!

I think this was a bit longer for a scenario but... I enjoyed writing it so :>

Warnings: language, mentions of violence(? Eh...)

Tomura/Dabi accidentally hurt reader with their quirks!

Tomura:

It happened accidentally. You knew that. Right? It wasn’t his fault, but his damn quirk’s fault, the one that he never asked for and the one that never allowed anyone to get close. Rather, he never let anyone get close because of it. He’ll admit he was always proud of its destructive capability as a villain, but now that it had hurt you, he wish he’d never boasted to a soul.

Twenty-three times. He had called you twenty-three times. And twenty-three times you didn’t answer. What was he to do, now? There was no stopping the decay borne from his fingertips once it had set in, and considering you wouldn’t answer your phone... it didn’t look good. Kurogiri had whisked you away before Tomura could even utter an apology, which looked to him as though Kurogiri did so in order for him not to witness your death. Kurogiri told him something about a doctor, but Tomura figured him a liar.

He couldn’t breathe. You shouldn’t have been hurt. Literally. Tomura hadn’t so much as touched you with a single finger; if anything, he was trying to protect you from the stranger grabbing you. It happened so fast, all he remembered was his quirk activating and the stranger vanishing before he heard your cry of pain and saw the skin of your arm drying out, much like he had done to that hero at U.S.J. He couldn’t tell, but it somewhat looked as though the decay was limited to just your bicep. That could’ve been hopeful thinking, of course, and he knew it.

So he sat there, all alone and hunched over on the couch in the bar, with misery and dread coursing his veins, accelerating his blood pressure to concerning levels. He had nothing to look at but his shaking palms and red shoes as he tried to even out his breathing - to no avail. Then, he felt the weight of someone sitting next to him, and instantly recognized how far the cushion next to him sunk in. And yet, he couldn’t look at you.

“Thanks for that back there,” you say quietly, afraid to startle him, but you recieve no response. “Y’know, I’m not sure what would’ve happened if my knight in shining armor hadn’t showed up!” You knew he felt guilty. Why wouldn’t he? But he shouldn’t. You wanted to convince him of that.

“Didn’t go far, huh,” you hear him mumble, nodding his head to your bandaged left arm next to him. There was no life to his voice and before you can say anything, he speaks again. “It won’t happen again. You’re not coming around anymore.”

“Hey, wait! That’s not your-“

“I’m the leader, and I say so! You can stay in the League, but you can’t... be close to me. You’ll get hurt.”

You stand up in defiance and put your hands on your hips in defense. “I’m not leaving you! First of all, I can take care of myself. Second, look at the League. We have a bloodthirsty serial killer and a cynical pyromaniac constantly lounging about, and you’re worried about some one-in-a-million freak accident happening again?” Patience was key with Tomura, and you knew that, but he could be stubborn and unreasonable, and when it came to you, stubbornly, unreasonably protective. “Besides, with the world as it is, I could get hurt doing something as mundane as taking out the trash, like I was when I was attacked!”

He finally looked at you, the look of a whipped pup on his face and while you knew he wasn’t doing it on purpose, you felt guilty for raising your voice at him. You sigh quietly and sit back down next to him, reaching for his hand and settling for his knee when he yanked it away. You snuck your arm around his shoulders and plopped your cheek on his shoulder, knowing all too well he would welcome it despite his standoffishness - and he did. Tomura didn’t pull away or push you off. But he hid his face. Your fingers on his left shoulder rubbed at it, his clavicle prominent enough you almost cringed at how thin he was. Your other hand on his leg idly toyed with the seam of his jeans, not having anything better to do.

“I’m sorry.” It was unclear as to whether he was apologizing for hurting you, or for demanding you keep your distance from him. Either way, it was undoubtedly genuine and soft.

You sat up straight and hugged your leader and lover from the side, gliding your fingers through his hair as you gently guided it to you. He hesitated slightly before burying his head into your chest and latching onto your ribcage for dear life, muttering the weakest “Don’t go, please,” anyone has ever heard. The desperation and vulnerability in his voice elicited your arms to wrap around him in a tight, warm embrace, your chin digging into his hair when you peck it, again and again and again. You stifled a giggle at how soft and ticklish his hair felt, electing to gently shush him.

“I just told you, didn’t I? I’m not going anywhere, even if you tell me to. I love you, silly.”

Dabi:

Dabi let out every curse known to mankind - and then some - as he rushed over to you, the bastard thugs the two of you had been after now burning alive and falling to the street. He would have sworn on his life you were not within range of his flames, and yet here you were, on the ground clutching your burnt leg and cringing away the searing tears of pain. Maybe you didn’t see him readying the attack and charged in? Maybe one of those thugs diverted his attack? He wasn’t sure.

“Y/n-“

What little color he had in his face drains completely, and his fingertips are already trembling.

“Dabi, I’m fine,” you tried to assure him. “It’s not that bad! I’ll just need a little first aid.” It hurt like hell, a white-hot, pulsating pain, you couldn’t lie. You just weren’t going to tell him that. It stretched from just below your knee to a hand’s length above your ankle and covered only the side of your leg, thankfully. The affected area was an awfully dark pink and honestly, it was hard to look at.

He practically scoffed at you. “Y/n, you’re fucking burnt. Don’t tell me that shit.” From the look on his face, it seemed bad.

That was the most cross he’d ever been with you, despite his brash and vulgar nature, and you couldn’t help but retreat a little as he knelt down to you and pulled his phone out of his pocket to make a call. “Y/n’s hurt, get us to the bar or something.” He grabbed your leg - surprisingly gently - and seemed to examine it. He paused as if to listen to the other end. “She’s burnt, does it matter? Just get us the hell out of here.” He must’ve called Kurogiri, as the next thing you know there’s a warp tunnel summoned next to you.

You tried standing on your own to leave, but the burn decided it didn’t want you to do so, and so you dropped back to the ground and bit your lip at the shockwaves of pain crawling up your leg. Dabi said nothing and helped you up himself, grabbing your arm and side to help you walk through the warp. Once through, he set you down on the couch, still eerily quiet, and left you there. The pain was so bad at this point, you began to think you’d faint, your head feeling fuzzy as tears run down your cheeks.

The stapeled villain returns with a bucket of ice water, towels, and what looks to be a first aid kit. But he stops for a second when he sees you hunched over with a death grip on your knee and the seat beneath you, and it takes all he has to hold it the fuck together. He’s unreasonably angry, and he’s not sure why. He wants to tell and scream, maybe at you, maybe not, he’s not sure. His quirk’s only quality was destructiveness. It was damaging not only to his enemies but also to his own body - and now, you.

He hurt you. Accident or not, he hurt you. The lump in his throat was suffocating.

Dabi knelt down and soaked a towel in the cold water before wringing it wordlessly, then gently tapping it to your leg and pulling back when you hiss. He seemed to notice it but didn’t outwardly acknowledge it and contintued to use the cold towel on your burn. As more time passed, the more convinced he became that it was a second-degree burn, meaning the second layer of your skin, the dermis, was badly burnt. He had no doubt it would scar, and at the thought the breath was pulled from his lungs. Dabi muttered a curse and suddenly rested his forehead against your knee, his right hand holding the cool towel to your leg.

“I’m sorry. It’s all my fault, fuck.” His voice was low, and if you looked hard enough, you could hear that it was forced out through a tense throat. He was nearly in tears, wasn’t he? He wasn’t an overly emotional person by any means, but the fact that his quirk hurt you, with its history, it hurt worse than if you would’ve left him for a hero. He hated himself. His quirk didn’t have a single redeeming quality, and he began to think the same of himself.

“Dabi, don’t, okay? I’ll be fine, really.” You can’t help how weak your voice sounds, being in so much pain, but you nonetheless plant a hand in his hair and rub his scalp.

Dabi lifts his head to look at you, and the look in his eyes isn’t something you’ve seen before. His free hand comes up to rest on your thigh, and you can feel it shaking. “It might scar, y/n. Don’t you get that?”

You huff. “So? If it does, I’d be pretty cool with that, all puns intended,” you try to giggle at your own pun and can practically feel him rolling his eyes, “Besides, I’d kinda match you, wouldn’t I? It’ll be like a couple’s tattoo sort of thing!”

He rests his chin atop your knee and a look that only be described as a pout crosses his features, but he says nothing and you can only smile. Dabi deadpans when you say nothing, forcing yourself to beam at him with bright eyes and a smile. “You’re a weird one, ya know that?” he muttered.

“You’re even weird for falling in love with me,” you teased after he began to work on your leg again.

“Pfft.”

[dandelionflower]

She tours alone

Marinette had gone to sleep right after finding a hidden path back to the manor, thank you, Culpa the kitty, and woke up feeling refreshed. Since today they were going to be touring the ballrooms, she elected to wear her ‘composers outfit,’ inspired by Nickolas Lafin, an incredible musician who lived in the manor.

Nickolas was primarily a conductor, but he often composed his own symphonies and gavots as well. Despite his incredible work, Lafin wasn’t much of a prominent character in the manor’s history and instead was reported to mainly follow his girlfriend, Anya, around. After Anya drowned, it was said that Nickolas spent all of his free time in the attic, until eventually, the boxes and trunks fell on top of him and killed him instantly.

Marinette had on a long blue coat with black and white music notes dotted along the bottom. Her shirt was crisp and black, matching her pants perfectly. She also had on a pair of rectangular earrings and red bowtie that matched Nickolas’ favorite.

After a quick breakfast where Marinette checked in on Allegra again, Grace picked them up to check out the ballroom. Adrien sidled up to her with his earnest smile and the two walked hand-in-hand next to Alya and Nino.

“Alya seems a bit shaken, is she okay?”

“She’s okay, just had an allergic reaction to the ice cream she got.”

Marinette looked at Alya again. She was leaning heavily into Nino’s side and was giving wary glares at any cup or water container she saw. She’d have to make sure she didn’t get dehydrated.

“...and here is the grand ballroom!” Grace pushed open the doors with a grin. “It’s a bit dusty since we haven’t exactly been hosting any parties lately, but with a little elbow grease it’ll be spectacular!”

Marinette looked at the dark, dusty room. Thick curtains covered the windows, but it allowed for a small sliver of light to illuminate the flecks dancing from the ceiling to the floor. Even in the faint lighting, she could tell that it was beautiful; all pastels and silvers and golds.

“What a dump.” Lila commented to Alix and Kim beside her. “Prince Ali’s ballroom is much better than this waste.”

“Actually,” Grace���s wide smile sharpened into something vengeful, “even in its current state, the Culpa ballroom is still considered one of the most lavish ballrooms in the world. Prince Ali’s ballroom isn’t even ranking.”

“I- ah well, it must have been remodeled since the last ranking.” Lila floundered, and after she looked at Adrien’s sympathetic face, Marinete almost felt bad for her.

Grace was looking casually at her phone. “Seems that the last ranking happened just a few days ago. That would have been when you were in Paris, correct?”

Almost.

“I guess I must have forgotten which ballroom I was thinking of.” Lila shrugged. “There’s been so many.”

“Yes, I’m sure.” Grace mumbled with shrewd eyes. She perked back up. “Anyway! I was thinking, as your project for your visit, you can produce a replica of the infamous Ross ball. We can have people working with flowers, costumes, music, and guests.”

The class murmured their agreement already turning to their friends and discussing what they wanted to wear.

“Ooh! Can I wear a suit?” Rose bounced on her toes, hand waving.

“Of course! We have dozens of old clothes that could easily be refitted for you and everyone else! We just need a-”

“Designer!” Nino shouted, pointing down at Marinette’s head (tall people, disgusting). “We’ve got one right here!”

“Great!” Grace didn’t seem surprised at all, even though a teenage designer isn’t someone you meet every day. “Your main job will be refitting and redesigning all the costumes for your friends. That sound good?”

“Yeah, sounds great!” Rose’s suit would of course need to be a pink, but a faint floral print on it too would look beautiful. Making it period accurate would be tricky, but the internet had all kinds of references for suits and dresses.

“We’ll need people for all the other tasks I mentioned, but for now just look around the room and check out the closets for anything you may need for the ball.”

The four of them immediately gravitated to the closets at Alya’s behest and Adrien’s adventurous spirit. There were instruments of all kinds and colors; it was like a sculpture and Marinette felt all kinds of inspiration welling up in her.

“Not much in this room.” Alya remarked. “Let’s check the next.”

“I used to really like music.” Adrien said as he followed Nino and Alya out the door. “Still do.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Marinette stayed behind, pulling out her phone to take a few pictures. A rustle from behind the cello caught her eye, and she glanced back at the open door. Another rustle, and she committed to it, stepping forwards to investigate.

“Meow.” Culpa was sitting prim on top of a drum. He was looking at the ground then at her like he just noticed another being was in the room.

“Culpa!” Her hands reached out to rub the cat’s ears, fingers vibrating with the feline’s contented purrs. “Hey, kitty. What’re you doing in here?”

Culpa offered no answer aside from leaning further into her hand and purring louder. She’d take it. After a few minutes more of petting, Culpa batted her hand away and moved towards the very back of the room, tucking into a thin passage she hadn’t noticed in the dark. When he realized there wasn’t a presence behind him, he turned around and mewled for her attention.

“Right, right. Coming.” She slipped her phone in her pocket and slipped into the passageway, which was just wide enough for her to stand comfortably in.

She followed Culpa’s flashing blue eyes through the tunnel until she stepped into a wider, well-lit hallway. Unlike the closet or the ballroom, the hall was absolutely pristine. Both of the walls were decorated with portraits, and Marinette took her time inspecting each one.

It was the Culpa family. Each one through the ages until it ended with the image Culpa showed the most attention to; Felix, eyes cold, unseeing on the canvas. Right next to it was a small framed photograph in black and white; Bridgette and Felix, laughing while leaning against each other.

She lifted the picture and smiled down at it. It was much better than the painting; it showed much more emotion. And that dress! Marinette could totally design a dress like that. It would look beautiful in pink.

“It’s a nice picture, isn’t it?” Allegra was standing in a doorway a bit behind her. She hadn’t noticed her come in.

“Yeah, they both look so… so happy. Why wasn’t this room a part of the tour?”

“We didn’t want people touching this part of the manor’s history.” She shrugged, walking forwards. “It just seemed right to keep it separate from the rest of it all.”

“Yeah, I get it.” This place seemed- sacred, in a way. She followed Allegra out of the hall and watched her lock the door.

“How’d you get in there anyway?”

“Oh, I found this cat and he led me through some passageway in the back of a closet.” She pointed over her shoulder to Culpa who… wasn’t there. “And he’s gone. That’s weird.”

“A passageway, huh? That’s cool.”

“I thought so too. Probably wasn’t the smartest idea to just go through it without telling anyone though, huh?”

“Probably not.” Allegra agreed

They walked a while longer before they were back at the ballroom. Alya and Nino were talking near one of the back doors that lead to the closets and looked up just as she walked in.

“Girl! Where have you been? We’ve been looking all over, come on! Adrien’s playing the piano.” Alya grabbed her and dragged her through the hall of closets. When she passed the one with the instruments, she glanced in, trying to catch a glance of the passage to show Alya.

She didn’t see anything at all.

.......

The rest

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