#They'll be. Going through a lot.
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that-weird-mime · 5 days ago
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Pretty sure Miitopia is going to win, so I'm making some refs! I meant it when I said this was self indulgent, there's going to be ocs galore (shoot me an ask if you want an oc in this too! Zac already has a couple.) Anyways, our dorky hero Frankie. Before crap hit the fan, they were traveling the world documenting monsters they find. They know a lot about most monsters and can (and probably will) ramble on for hours about their little specifics and how they live. Really upsetting for them to beat them up at first, but they'll get used to it. The guardian spirit will be around a lot more, and is Frankie's little cheerleader.
They struggled to keep friends, mainly due to their travel and their utter lack of social awareness. Kind of hard on themself. But they care a lot, and oigjdsmre I love them, I'm so happy I'll be able to use them more AUGH.
On another note, all of our team members will be from different places around the land! Frankie's from Greenhorne, so their upbringing was one of the most peaceful.
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cakemoney · 1 month ago
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there are six color-slices on the orrery wheel. there are six main types of rolls (other than magic and mark) based on the original kids on bikes/brooms concept. there were six heads (including evan's) during the confrontation with evan's shadow entity in the first season
i normally don't post specific theories because i get embarrassed if i'm way off but thinking emoji
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fromtheseventhhell · 7 months ago
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"It's normal for siblings to fight" Okay well it's not normal to be extremely classist and look down on your sister for being non-conforming. Or to go to the woman who ordered the death of your pet to tell her about your father's plans, when he specifically warned you against doing so, because you want to marry the boy you saw attack your sister and her friend (contributing partially to said father's death and your sister being unable to escape on the ship he chartered). Or to think of your sibling as unsatisfactory in comparison to another when you believe her to be dead. I notice that none of the "Sansa and Arya are going to reunite and instantly have no issues" crowd ever acknowledge any of this, which makes it seem like they don't actually believe what they say about their relationship being normal and easily reconciled. People wanting them to have no issues simply because they're siblings is another example of how fandom likes to flatten complex characters and relationships. They get reduced to being bickering siblings when their conflict runs deeper than that. If the author is telling you that they have "deep issues" to work out [X], I don't understand being so adamant about ignoring said issues. I also get the sense it's about ignoring the capacity for a certain character to be flawed, but that isn't going to change the fact that her "slip of the tongue" is very likely to be revealed and a source of further conflict 🤷🏾‍♀️
#arya stark#sansa stark#house stark#asoiaf#also if it's so normal for siblings to fight then why are you guys losing your minds over us theorizing they won't get along??#the amount of condescending /that's just how siblings act/ takes I see 🙄#sorry I guess? that we read the book and don't just delete parts of the story because we find it convenient?#it's not even like takes about them being enemies is widespread the most I see is that they aren't instantly bffs when they reunite 😭#some people theorize they'll never be close but guess what? that's a completely fair and valid assumption based on their relationship!#personally I think they'll have a sweet reunion before the issues they have inevitably surface again because while they've been through#a lot they haven't fundamentally changed as people or the values they hold#and I think that's going to be very interesting to read about!#I can't figure out why people always take the most boring bland route for how things will play out#mostly because people seem to be unable to swallow the concept that Sansa is a flawed character who isn't perfectly sweet all the time#and the fact that their conflict is instigated by Sansa's classism#which is funny cause in the grand scheme of things her being mean to Arya is such a mild thing that opens the door to a ton of growth#never seen anybody but stansas equating her being a bully to her sister to her being evil/a villain#all we do is point out that it exists in the story...people in this fandom have no concept of nuance I stg 😭#anyways they're both complex characters and their conflict is interesting and I hope we get to see how it plays out#cause it's definitely going to be better then that trash d&d came up with 🙏🏾
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mars-ipan · 5 months ago
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some postgame doodles for pride month
#martzipan#komahina#hajime hinata#nagito komaeda#domestic kmhn likers pspspsps cmere#i never draw just fluff/domestic things bc i get too in my feelings lmao. this one was no exception#i had to take a break midway through bc i got sappy. IT'S OK THO we got it done :3#neways these tie into some headcanons of mine so i'm gonna share 'em here#mainly i hc them having little ways where they just look out for each other#komaeda is usually the only one who can convince hinata to take a goddamn break without having to forcefully drag him away from his work#bc hinata does NOT take enough breaks. and he does not listen to reason#until there is a komaeda who is tired and can't go to sleep without his human teddy bear :((( can't let him go to bed aloneeee#n i think hinata just. casually feeds komaeda ALL the time#bc he won't eat enough on his own. and if you offer him food he'll be inclined to see it as a nicety and try to reject it#but if you just. Put Food In Front Of His Mouth. he'll eat it#it's kind of a reflex like komaeda doesn't realize he's being fed most of the time#they take care of each other bc they won't take care of themselves otherwise lmao. it's a little dysfunctional but they're trying#i think once they've recovered enough to be able to just enjoy each other's company they get REALLY really giggly#they have a lot of teenage/young adult love stuff to catch up on and since they didn't really have a puppy love phase. they laugh a lot#they'll try to do something tender or sweet but then one of them will start to laugh. and then it's not long before the other breaks#komaeda usually breaks first. bc he's always in awe of just how happy he is. bc he never thought he COULD be this happy#not without hell looming just over the horizon anyways#when hinata breaks first it's bc he's thinking of how much they've both been through and put each other through#and he's just sort of like 'how the fuck did we end up here'#(btw komaeda snorts when he's trying not to laugh. this is just fact trust me)#OH AND I HAVE MANY HEADCANONS ABT THEIR SLEEP STUFFS#as stated hinata runs hot and komaeda runs cold. but ALSO#hinata's a sprawler. komaeda gets Clingy. it works out for them tho#if komaeda doesn't have hinata to hold like a body pillow he'll curl into the tightest little ball. it gives him back pain lmao#oh and yes. they absolutely wake up with their legs incredibly tangled together
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inkstainedarchivistmagpie · 6 months ago
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You know, playing through Penacony after playing through both Persona 5 and Who's Lila practically back to back is an incredibly surreal experience and makes everything hit you as hard as we hit Sunday with the Astral Express.
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megidoreyn · 6 months ago
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Happy Satan Saturday! 🌞 Had to draw the canon Satan husbands fusion of Walter-Lucifer and Jonathan-Merkabah to celebrate😈🙏👼💕 I hope everyone has a great weekend! 💙💛
💙twitter 💙bluesky 💙misskey 💙pillowfort 💙poipiku
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tastycitrus · 2 months ago
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the flora discuss conductors
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hella1975 · 1 year ago
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the closest ill ever get to being a pick me girl is the joy that fills me when the chefs at work so clearly favouritise me. like im there nicely cleaned up in my smart-casual uniform just a 20 year old waitress smiling my customer service smile and behind me spawns Scary Dog Privilege 10x in the form of several burly middle-aged chefs at least three of which have criminal records and would all stick a bread knife in someone for bothering me
#like it's really funny bc i worked HARD with back of house bc i knew my job would be significantly easier if they liked me#(it speeds your orders through. you can ask for things without being told to fuck off during a rush. they'll get you food on shift etc)#and also there's a stereotype especially in fancier places where floor staff look down on kitchen staff and i think that's shitty#so i was always going to be try with them and be nice but ALSO when i first started my job it was in a peak era so while these days#we're struggling a lot and have had to employ a lot of college kids that dont know what they're doing#when i joined it was all private school girls that would swan about the place very snootily. so the divide between front and back of hosue#was INTENSE when i joined. and there i was a little state school girlie and the chefs immediately recognised that#and took me under their wing. so even though the class angle doesnt exist so much anymore and theres majority state schoolers#im still very much in with the chefs in a way not many of the other floor staff are. and there's also the fact im not scared of them#like chefs ARE rude and a lot of them DONT like or even respect floor staff but i will GLADLY tell them to fuck off if i think it necessary#and that's a language they understand like ironically there's one chef that doesnt get on with ANY of the waitresses#(i talked about him on another post he's the soup one) but he likes me bc when he tried that rude dismissive act i told him to shove it#and now the other waitresses literally SEND ME TO TALK TO HIM when they have questions/want something bc they know he'll listen to me#and me and the head chef are besties and the one kp will talk OVER THE OTHER WAITRESSES' heads and completely blank them#so she can talk to me and it's all just really funny bc the kitchen staff LOVE me and that's not even me being arrogant#it's like a known thing at work that they love me and im just. a 20 year old 5'2 waitress with my little pearl necklace and blouse#and some tattooed ginger mohawked 6ft chef is there getting angry for me when i come in complaining about a table#or the kp that is literally on probation will give me a sticky toffee pudding and tell everyone to leave me the fuck alone LMAO#hella slaves to capitalism
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eddiepeaches · 5 months ago
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feeling so loved and cherished tonight!!! got to see all my favorite people, I have amazing friends 😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️
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fragmentedblade · 5 months ago
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I think I've become an official HI3 player. I check the HSR leaks hoping for iterations of HI3 characters now
#I have little hope about some of them. For instance the Su and Kevin voice actors are taken by Aventurine and the Trailblazer iirc?#Kalpas' voice actor does the male Dreamseeker in Part 2 of HI3 which is not as terminal considering HSR is a different game but still#Luocha thankfully exists. I don't think they'll be introducing Kiana anytime soon#I would love Sakura but I'm way more into PE Sakura than CE Sakura and then there's what they did with Miko#Some of my favourite things of PE Sakura they gave to Jingliu or Acheron already (freeze time‚ haunted and corrupted by loss‚#unable to unsheathe a sword and memories coming back to her when she does‚#piercing someone's heart with her sword but the other person living on with a new life‚...)#Thus an iteration of all that but with the cool things missing could get messy and unsatisfactory pretty easily#Mobius and MEI are similar to Mei and Herta so they're in a similar situation to PE Sakura#I find Griseo somewhat unsettling in a good way and in a way same with Eden. I love all the loss weighing on her as if she had already dead#with the concept of her being The Era itself and the era dying. So I wouldn't mind seeing them too#Hua seems like she may appear in the Xianzhou? Given the Marshall existence and that the Xianzhou drinks a lot of those concepts#Blade‚ Dan Heng and Jingliu drink so much of Fu Hua. I don't care about Hua though. The Herrscher I did like though#I'm curious about what they'll do#Other than the Chinese voice actor having already a steady job in Mihoyo‚ there's echoes of Kalpas in Blade‚ Arlan and Sam#so I really don't have much hope there. Not as little as with Kevin and Su perhaps but... yeah not really a lot of hope#Yet here I am. Hopelessly hoping for a Kalpas iteration. Imagine how beautiful the fire would be *sigh*#I was so mad about him being my favourite in HI3 but it just makes sense#Besides the Guzm.a process he went me go through‚ he truly has a lot of themes going on that recall Blade. I don't know...#I like his CN voice actor a lot‚ and how he plays Kalpas in particular‚ both when he's calm and when he's deranged#The Dreamseeker doesn't have the same voice at all unfortunately. I would really love to see him in HSR what can I say#That's the kind of person I've become. In a little bit of time I'll be wanting a Kalpas plushie at this rate#I talk too much#I should probably delete this later
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tangledinink · 2 years ago
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First of all I couldn't remember the name of your blog to ask this question and keep searching for twisted spoon.
Second of all, dude I loved ch 12 but I'm so worried about the boys. Like what will they eat now that they're turtles? Can Donnie have any of his safe food or will it not work with turtle digestion? What if Raph accidentally cuts someone with his spikes? It just seems like so many things can go wrong I'm simultaneously worried and excited for the next chapter
First of all, changing my url right now, twisted spoon is way better--
Second of all, thank you so much! But don't fret! :) They're not gonna have to worry about feeding themselves for the next few days! :)
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ehlnofay · 11 months ago
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It’s not until she hears Sissel’s knees hit the floor that Efri is jolted back into her body.
She blinks, whipping her head around. Sissel is kneeling, bracing a palm on the ancient stone pavement, at the barrier – no, the barrier’s gone, it’s just Sissel on the floor. She lifts her head and meets Efri’s eyes; her hair is wispy and wild, the little plaits meant to keep it neat come loose and tumbling, her eyes wide. The barrier's gone, but still, her pale face is lit up blue.
“Are you okay?” she asks. She doesn’t speak loudly, but it echoes in the great stone chamber.
Nine, Efri doesn’t know.
She blinks again, looks down at her hands, clinging to the metal stick so fiercely that her joints ache. (Her own stick, her nice wooden one, is still on the floor somewhere, where it slipped out of her grasp when she hit the wall.) The lumpy heavy end of it, the clobbering end, is still resting on –
Not on. It’s in the thing’s head, fitted neatly in the opening of its dented helmet, the horns spiralling over the floor. There’s a tooth, perfectly preserved, by Efri’s foot.
One by one, she unwraps her gloved fingers from the handle of the metal stick, letting it drop to the floor with a clang so loud it makes her wince. Kazari is nosing at her side. (When did they let go of it? When did they get so close? She must have missed that. She feels out of the loop. Her heart is juddering like fish on a line, battering like some frightened trapped thing at her ribcage, and her breath is coming fast and heavy.) Absentmindedly bringing up a hand to press over her sore shoulder, she says, “’M fine. Not too – barely touched me.”
Kazari turns and spits on the floor. Efri blinks. She does it again, tongue lolling out of her mouth, face very disgruntled – and oh, Efri gets it. She does not glance down at the thing at her feet; she doesn’t need to, she knows what its arm looks like, chewed almost to pieces even through its banded armour. (If she hadn’t been so busy being scared of it, that sight might have made her a bit scared of Kazari. But not now, when they’re trying to hack and spit the taste of dead man arm out of their mouth.)
Efri unclips her canteen from her belt and holds it out. “Here,” she says. Her voice is rough. Her heart is racing too much to let constructing sentences be easy. “Not much, but –”
Kazari stands still while Efri tips half of the remaining water onto her tongue, and then Efri watches her swilling it around in her mouth, trying to bathe all of her teeth in it, before she spits it again on the floor at the dead thing’s feet.
The water is still clear. That’s something, at least; the dead man was too old to still have blood in him. Or maybe he was embalmed, drained of it hundreds of years ago, thousands.
“Are you okay?” Efri asks Kazari when they’re done, because they were the one doing most of the fighting, who was closest. They tip their head, shift their weight – wince when they put weight on one foot. Their lips peel back from their teeth. Their clothes on that side are singed.
Efri points it out. “Your robe,” she says, which makes it sound much fancier than it is. She’s too tired to think of a better word. She rubs a hand over her face, pushing the hair back over her forehead, says, “I’ll reinforce it for you when we get out.”
Kazari noses at Efri’s shoulder – the shredded fabric of her dress, the fraying edges stained with blood. Efri says, “I know. I’ll have to sew that up too.” Over her shoulder, she calls, “Kazari’s leg’s hurt, I think.”
“There’s blood on you,” Sissel replies. She peels her hand off the floor and leans back on her heels.
Efri touches her shoulder again. “’S fine,” she says. “Just a scrape. The blood’s drying already.”
It’s really sore, actually – the flesh abraded and tender, an ache sinking deep into the muscle – but it’s normal sore, the kind of sore you really should be after being thrown into a wall. It doesn’t feel sprained or dislocated or anything like that.  Just like it will be bruised a whole rainbow of colours come tomorrow.
Kazari noses at it again. She leans too far forward and falters on her maybe-hurt leg – rights herself, wincing, and rolls her shoulder. It gleams, just for a moment, and she nearly stumbles again. Efri puts out a hand to steady her. (It doesn’t really accomplish anything – Efri’s strong, but she’s not that strong – but it’s the principle of it.) “What was that spell?”
“Pain relief,” Sissel says from behind her. “I think. Doesn’t actually fix anything, but.”
“You’ll be okay ‘til we find someone?” Efri asks, and Kazari nods. She presses a hand against their shoulder and nods back.
They both turn to look at Sissel, then, who’s just kneeling on the floor, sitting on her heels.
“You all right?” Efri asks her.
“All right,” Sissel confirms. She doesn’t look at them. “Didn’t even come near me.”
She’s staring.
Efri crosses the floor to stand with her. (She needs to lean on Kazari – her legs are too wobbly, and she doesn’t want to touch the dead thing’s stick, doesn’t want to look for her own. Kazari limps a little on their sore front leg.) There’s a moment of total, humming silence – all of them still and staring, necks craned back, looking up at the thing.
Whatever it is.
It’s a ball. Big and blue and shimmering, it floats above a wide crystalline dish set into the floor, spinning on an axis. Just spinning and spinning and spinning, endless motion. Its smooth surface is cut through with dark wavering lines, etched with lettering, and it doesn’t quite glow but it doesn’t not glow, either, the light moving across it silkily, like clouds in a blue sky. It looks like something that should be humming – a low pitch in their ears, an eerie shiver dancing over their skin – but it’s silent. Inert, maybe, but for the spinning.
“What is it?” Efri asks. Her voice cracks as she speaks. She looks down at Sissel’s face, staring as though mesmerised, illuminated by the room’s dim lighting – the fires that should not still be burning down here, the luminous not-glow of the ball.
Sissel says, “I don’t know. Something important.”
Hovering above the dish, it spins, and spins, and spins.
“Is it what the ghost was talking about?” Efri asks. She tilts her head and squints at it. It doesn’t – well, it looks strange and unearthly and powerful, but it isn’t doing anything. And it hadn’t been clear what the ghost was talking about, exactly, according to Sissel, just that it was something important – but what else could it be?
Sissel, still watching it, shrugs. “I don’t know,” she says. “I think so.”
Efri watches it with her, brushing a bit more hair out of her face. It’s sticking to her sweaty forehead. She feels a drip of not-dry blood running down her arm under her sleeve.
Kazari is staring at it too – just as confounded as the rest of them. Efri sees the light in their irises shifting as the ball spins.
They’re not learning anything from staring, the ball staying strange and mysterious as ever, so Efri raps her knuckles against her sternum to steady her breathing (it’s slowed a bit – not normal, but closer to it) and climbs up onto the stone rimming of the dish. Kazari, behind her, lows in consternation; Sissel catches her breath, a noise like a creaking door. “Careful,” she says.
“Promise,” Efri replies, and places her feet very, very carefully on the glassy blue flooring. Nothing happens. She doesn’t step on the dark curved lines as she treads toward the ball in the centre, slow and wary as if she were approaching a skittish animal. Nothing happens.
She reaches out, and, with just the tips of her fingers, she grazes the ball’s surface.
Nothing happens.
It’s cool to the touch, and smooth, like polished metal or not-frozen ice or delicate glasswork. It continues to spin gently under her fingers, warming her glove with friction, no smudges left on its clouded face.
 It really feels like there should at least be a tingle running up her arm, a strange and unfamiliar current, a spark. But it’s just Efri, standing with an arm outstretched, pressing her hand to a ball.
“It’s not doing anything,” she reports, and Sissel clambers up onto the dish with her, fitting her palm to its gently hovering underside. Kazari balks, begins pacing agitatedly. Efri frowns. “Why isn’t it doing anything? Shouldn’t it be doing something?”
“It’s important,” Sissel says definitively. There’s ancient dust on her fingers, but none of it seems to transfer. “It’s something really special, I think.”
Efri shifts restlessly. She shifts her grip and tries to grab onto the dark ridged curves ringing its surface, but they slip easily away from her grasp as though her touch was no barrier at all. “But what does it do?”
Sissel shrugs.
Behind them, Kazari lows.
Efri drops her hand and grabs Sissel’s wrist. “C’mon,” she says, and when Sissel frowns at her, “We’re not going to learn anything about it this way. We have to look for clues!”
Kazari makes a more impatient noise. (Efri thinks she found a clue.)
Sissel gives the ball one last searching look and lets Efri tug her away, off the weird blue dish and down to where Kazari stands on the stone floor, at the head of the table where the dead man sat. Efri sniffs loudly and tries not to think about it too much. The table is smooth polished stone, worn a little away with time; Efri trails a gloved finger over the edge and directs her attention to where Kazari points with their chin.
There’s something carved into the surface, the edges blunted and shapes softened by however many years it must have been since it was put there. Efri squints, trying to make it out. She has to stand right up on her tiptoes to get the right angle to see much of it in full.
“That’s not letters,” she says eventually, frowning. She’s pretty sure she knows her alphabet well enough by now to know that. “Is it magic?”
Sissel shakes her head. “I don’t know what it is. It’s not like magical writing I’ve ever seen.”
Efri looks at Kazari, who also shakes her head. “Maybe it’s a different sort of lettering,” she theorises. It must have been written a long time ago, if it’s from back when the city had people. Onmund’s been reading all about it for ages, and he’s told her a bit – Saarthal was the city of Atmorans, populated by proto-Nordic people. All complicated history stuff. But they weren’t quite the same as Nords today, he said, so it stands to reason they had different writing, too. They’re supposed to be uncovering and cataloguing artifacts (at the thought, Efri glances back at the hovering ball and swallows an inane bubble of laughter) so she suggests, “Maybe you can copy it and we can show it to someone. I’m sure there’ll be someone at the College what knows what it is.”
Sissel, also standing on her toes, nods dutifully. “What will you do?”
The chamber they’re in is cavernous, and about empty but for the ball in the dish, the altar and chair, the body on the ground. “I’ll check him,” she says, and points. “See if he has anything on him that’s special.”
Sissel follows her finger and grimaces.
She digs out her note-paper and her stick of char, and Efri assumes it’s clues time, but when she turns she feels a hand grip her elbow. She looks back over her tattered shoulder at Sissel’s face, her furrowed brow.
“Promise you’re really okay?” she says, voice anxious and solemn.
“Promise,” Efri says, twisting her arm to touch her friend’s hand. Sissel presses her lips together and lets go of her arm.
Kazari trails after Efri to look at the dead man.
First thing is the metal stick. It’s magic someway, Efri knows – he waved it and threw her into a wall, flung spells with it – but she’s not sure how. Doesn’t know enough about enchantments. Didn’t need to, to use it; when Kazari clamped down on his arm she just ripped it from his grasp and –
She doesn’t quite exactly remember, actually, except for the bitter tang of adrenaline in her mouth and nose, the horrible grunting and scuffling sounds, the heft of the stick in her hands. Impact, over and over and over, against something that had a little more give each time.
Efri scrubs a hand over her mouth and grips the handle of the stick. It takes effort to wrest it out of the thing’s face, caught as it is by the edges of the helmet, and when it’s finally yanked free it’s – actually not as bad as she might have expected. There’s no blood, and the corpse was so desiccated it already didn’t even really look like a person anymore, so it registers less as someone with horrible violence done to it and more as a really gross art piece. It’s not nice. She doesn’t like the twisted, gaping mouth, teeth embedded wrong-ways in its tissue and scattered like coins over the floor. And one of the eyes, which had glowed unearthly blue, is now a dull, rotten black, squished like a plum in its socket.
It's worse the more she looks. She sniffs and turns away.
“This is magic, right?” she asks Kazari, testing the weight of it in her hands, the cool surface of the metal, and they nod. “A good artifact?” she adds, and they nod again, emphatically. Efri sets the stick aside and kneels.
It wasn’t wearing any clothes, really – or if it was, they rotted away. She touches the rusted armour gingerly, tries to avoid brushing her gloves against the shrivelled skin at all. Whoever it was had expensive taste, it seems – there’s jewellery in a shockingly well-preserved beard, pendants around the neck, armbands. Efri asks Kazari if each thing is enchanted. No to the armbands, no to the beard-ring, and then, pressed against the wizened chest where the flesh contours to the ribs, she finds some kind of necklace, sharp-edged and thrumming. Kazari nods to that, and, face scrunched up like an old fruit, Efri reaches around the ancient neck to slip it off.
She tucks it into a belt pocket with the tripwire necklace they found at the weird wall.
“Done,” Sissel says. She folds her paper and slips it into her own pouch. Her footfalls on the echo-y stone floor as she approaches the body for the first time are almost silent. “Did you find anything?”
“Necklace,” Efri replies, watching Sissel’s face pinch at the sight of him. “And – stick.” She scoops up the metal stick and holds it out. “He did spells with it.”
Sissel looks at it warily. “Is he a draugr?” she asks, glancing back down at his mashed-up face.
“I mean,” Efri says, “he’s got to be, right?” She’s certainly never seen a draugr before, but what else could it be?
(Calling it a draugr makes her shiver, the set of her shoulders quaking. She’ll stick to dead man.)
Sissel shudders. She reaches out to grip the handle of the stick, and Efri’s not sure if she’s taking it or just trying to keep herself upright. “I can’t believe that happened,” she says. Her voice sounds, suddenly, fragile. “I can’t believe we’re alive.”
“Me neither,” Efri says. She presses the tip of the stick into the ground so Sissel can lean on it, stands a little unsteadily.
Kazari, with a hushed murmur, telegraphs something. Efri recognises the head incline of understanding – she’s familiar with that word, that idea – and, after a moment, the flickering ear of doubt.
“They’ll have to believe us,” she says with conviction, because she means it. “We’ll show them. They’ll see for themselves.”
Kazari presses their nose to her head.
Efri clasps her hands together. “We’ll go tell someone now,” she declares – though it’s easier said than done; they were lost in the ruins ages before they even found the crumbling wall, the halls, this horrible wonderful chamber. But they’ll get un-lost eventually. They’ll get out eventually. Surely. They have practice enough with walking. “But first – help me find my stick.”
#little girl has a kill count now!! more at 11#for context: I altered stuff leading up to the discovery of the eye#efri and sissel went off to play in the undiscovered halls of this ancient archeological dig site#on the grounds that efri has a great sense of navigation and they'll find their way back to the group no problem.#(efri has a great sense of navigation in the wilderness.)#(introduce her to a series of roads and buildings and she is lost in the sauce.)#their friends split up to look for them after they've been missing from a while (wandering around with great interest and no sense of place#(incredibly lost)#kazari happens upon them right as they've found a necklace at the end of a dead-end passageway that - when dutifully grabbed#for archeological research purposes - ended up triggering the wall to crumble or disappear or otherwise remove itself from the equation#and efri wasn't going to just. LEAVE that opening there.#come ONN kazari that's weird!! we can't just leave it!! what if it closes up and we never ever find it again and there's incredible secrets#that the college never finds! what if we never know what's through there!#we HAVE to know what's through there!#so on they go.#and so ensue the horrors#they pass a lot of dead bodies before the main all but those ones are all immobile#also sissel is the only one to receive the psijic projection warning. which she explains to the others as a ghost telling her secrets#which efri accepts bc this seems like the kind of place that would for sure have ghosts#and kazari goes sure that tracks this place is fucking creepy can we leave now (<- is also curious but HAS to put on a show of reluctance#because clearly no-one else is going to)#(permanent babysitter of kids with the worst self-preservation instincts imaginable)#(she is so strong. living every childcare worker's nightmare)#ANYWAY#:D#normal type stuff#posting because it matches the artwork I'm also posting! look at that thing!!!#fay writes#oc tag#efri
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midnight-in-town · 1 year ago
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Predicting Cordelia's last resolve
I wish I could write something more sensible and optimistic, but this chapter almost tore my heart out...
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For obvious reasons, Gudrid has a lot of plot armor and so does Karli. It makes no sense, considering last month's chapter, to have Thorfinn losing them right now, so it seems the story is rather heading towards Cordelia finding the strength to protect them, no matter what.
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After all, even if Thorfinn & Gudrid were the only ones who ever told her "it was okay not to fight", they are also the ones who welcomed her without fear and who worked things through with Halfdan so that Cordelia would finally know freedom.
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Cordelia is a kind soul, someone who dislikes fighting and war, but she loves Thorfinn and his family way more. She definitely won't kill, but she will probably die to protect Gudrid, Karli and his newborn brother with that strength of hers.
TBH as much as I really really absolutely love her character, I unfortunately don't think Thorfinn, Hild & co will make it in time. T_T Not with them currently being chased too. Last hope I kinda have is Ivar and Styrk finally becoming useful and saving them (instead of, y'know, triggering more conflict)...
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But unfortunately again, Cordelia dying might also be the only way, narratively speaking, for characters like Einar, Ivar, Hild and Styrk to realize that staying in Vinland will cost them everything they've achieved so far (and that Thorfinn is actually not such a bad leader).
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If anything though, as a dim ray of light deep within the storm that war brings, this chapter proved Thorfinn was right.
Even amongst the Lnu themselves, "desiring swords" simply translates as a way to control others: they pretend to be righteous and to act as leaders, because "violence" is the most effective way for them to keep their power over others.
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Honestly I'm devastated. ;_; It's not Cordelia's first death flag, Sensei left hints here and there that she would probably sacrifice herself to save the place in which "she finally could live as herself" but, after this chapter, I've next to no hope of seeing her survive. T_T
Please prove me wrong, Yukimura-sensei...!
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thebirdandhersong · 2 years ago
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I remember talking to a friend last week and saying that if I'm reading obsessively it either means I'm extremely happy or extremely in need of help. alas goodreads my good pal you have GOT to be kidding me
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skrunksthatwunk · 3 months ago
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household enemy to the yyh watchthrough number one is the olympics. it's taken us a week to get two episodes into the gamemaster fight
#out of three. please the third episode's what makes it okay im fighting for my life out here#it is NOT for lack of trying on my part but theres only a brief window of time when the olympics is not happening#and as it turns out the watchthrough is Not my mom's first priority (how dare she etc)#i do feel slightly bitter that we've gotten through two eps of band o brothers in the same time#we are fighting for the same timeslots yet somehow the hour long show's gotten a leg up??#you don't have time for a 23 min ep but DO for a 60 min one?? explain the math to me please#idk how to explain the vague feeling of betrayal bc it Does Not make sense Nor matter in the slightest#but cmonnnn we were doing so well. and my little bro's starting up school again soon and my dad's gotta go back to work#sometimes eventually (<- hes on medical leave) and my grandparents are coming over next week We're Losing Time Soon#ughhh if i'd known the olympics were happening (<- somehow completely oblivious to this) i'd have accounted for#my mom getting whisked away by the land of synchronized divers and shot putters and whatever the hell#happens in the summer olympics (<- only pays attention to winter olys)#bc that always happens. and *i* have to go back to school in Some Amount Of Time Im Too Scared To Check (p sure it's late aug though) and#when that happens i'll (hopefully) be stuck across town which means we won't be able to do it any time besides the weekends#and i don't wannaaaaa#i know this is the least important problem anyone's ever had like i get that i know but#it's important to me that they sit down and watch this with me. and watching it pull apart and being#the one who's easily the most invested it makes me look all desperate when i ask them for their time and they can't give it#we can only pull this off neatly in the summer and we were so close and now we're losing it right at the finish line#i don't want life to get in the way of this little bubble i've fought so hard to make y'know#and it's childish and embarrassing and whatever but i just want them to have fun with me with this thing i care about a lot#but i can't do that bc my mom needs to watch the judo matches at Every weight class#even though she's recording a lot of them? i don't understand but whatever i know it's her thing im just moping about it ig#i want it to be as perfect an experience for them as possible and it's slipping away from me#and i don't wanna leave this project unfinished when i start school y'know. sighh#i think they might feel like i only want them around when we're watching stuff. whcih is weird bc that's like#The Singular Way we family bonded literally my whole life so idk why they wouldn't get that when reversed#but either way that IS how i wanna spend time with them. i want them to understand this thing that's become a part of me#and i wanna talk With them about it. and so far it's been fun in a way it's never been before. my mom at least seems to really like it#and i want it to Keep going well bc if we lose momentum im worried they'll start finding it tedious. sighh
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doctorbrown · 29 days ago
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DOCTOBER '24 ⸺ 「 9 / 31 * BREAKTHROUGH 」
Walking through it hadn’t felt entirely real the first time Emmett had taken her to see the old house. Even though Clara could envision everything she had ever wanted, reach out and touch the near-tangible visions, as if human touch was all it would take to bring them to life as they walked from one dusty room to another, the pragmatist in her reminded her that this was only one set of possibilities. 
A potential future. One within reach, though nebulous, shifting and shimmering like an apparition.
But the more homes they viewed, the more she grew attached to this potential future, seeing nothing so bright and vibrant in any of the other houses. Oh, they could be happy in any of them, certainly, they’d done well with that already given their less than ideal living conditions for a growing family of four on the outskirts of Hill Valley—none of which were Emmett’s fault—but she had wanted more for her family and if they were going through all the trouble to uproot their lives to settle down in Emmett’s time, she refused to compromise.
Fortunately, having lived in the same cramped conditions for the last decade, Emmett was more than inclined to agree with her visions for their to-be home.
He’d done the best he could, improving their situation little-by-little with his knowledge of the future, but there was only so much that could be done when the builders and designers of her home clearly put little to no thought into the occupant and their convenience. 
Were she a woman of weaker constitution, it would have bothered her even more severely, however there was only so much that could be ignored as Jules and Verne continued growing at an alarming rate.
Both boys would surely take after their father.
This time, she would see to it that all the concerns that arose from their situation in the Nineteenth Century were properly addressed this time around. 
And then they found this house. Or, from what Emmett said, Marty had found this house and passed the information along. She would have to thank him properly for his invaluable help later.
For this house–!
Standing on the walkway, gazing up at their house—their house, Clara repeats in her mind, almost giddy with excitement—it feels surreal. The major step to making the move had just been completed and finalised and Emmett standing there, holding the keys and the paperwork to their new home, crowned in gold by the early afternoon sun, looks like a dream. 
Even with the exterior battered and beaten by the elements, it was clear that once, the two-story home had been a proud, beautiful building. Making it perfect would be a project, but the idea of complicated renovations did not sour her to the home in the slightest. The fact that they had all this space and then some–perhaps more than they needed for their modest family–well, she was still wrapping her head around it and the fact that they had all these futuristic amenities now to make their lives easier lent only to more and more possibilities. 
It was far away enough from the major populated areas to provide them peace and privacy, yet not so far that a trip into town would require proper planning and preparation and eat up a majority of the day. With the transportation available in this century–Clara was still growing accustomed to the sheer number of automobiles on the road in some of those areas and to her credit, she hadn't let out the same unladylike shriek she did the first time one of those things had roared at her–Emmett assured her that travel into town would take far less than the hour plus it took to return home on horseback. 
“We’ll never have to worry about space again,” Emmett says, smiling, and Clara finds herself drawn further into his orbit, hanging on her husband’s every word. “There’s plenty of space for you and me, for the boys—and when they eventually become teenagers and can’t stand the sight of one another for long, there’s more than enough room to put between them—and there will be space for Marty to stay.” 
He wraps his arm around Clara's waist. 
“The realtors assured me that everything is structurally sound, but I trust them about as far as I can throw them, so I’d like to double-check before we start settling in.”
Clara nods, finding sense in that. “So you'll be making a few trips here yourself in the meantime.”
“You and the boys are welcome to come, of course, but I figure it will get done quickly if the boys aren't distracted by all the new things happening around them. It would be good to expose them to life in this century slowly rather than shocking their systems by thrusting them into it, but that may be better a little further into the renovations. Let them explore the property on their own, the house once I’m absolutely certain they won’t stumble across any weak points and fall through, and get used to seeing things that are normal for this time, but the equivalent of magic a hundred years ago."
“You're right. And with Verne's penchant for trouble lately, I'd rather not run the risks. I know you said this was a quiet location without too much traffic, but God forbid he forgets about those–those—”
“Cars?” 
“Yes. Cars, thank you.”
“They'll just have to be patient. We’ll focus on their rooms first, set up ours and the majority of the home so it’s at least habitable, then focus our attention on the cosmetic things. I may enlist Marty's help with some of the cleaning if he's willing and able.” Emmett hums.
“We’ll need a place to store the Time Machine,” Clara says, leaning against Emmett’s arm. “I wouldn’t feel comfortable leaving it out in the open, even with your security measures in place.”
“No, the Train draws far too much attention and the last thing I need is somebody spotting it and poking around where they don’t belong. Remember, I'm not exactly Hill Valley's favourite citizen. I’ve been thinking about that since we settled on this house and I have a few ideas in mind.” 
Suddenly, Emmett snaps his fingers. “I’ll also need to construct a private study, one the boys and any of the friends they may invite over won’t be able to sneak into where we can keep some of the more sensitive”–dangerous, Clara’s mind supplies–“documents and experiments of mine. As for the lab…my childhood home saw my garage turned into a lab independent of the house and I think, for safety reasons, I’ll do the same here. The old barn, once fixed up, would make an excellent workspace.”
Clara’s eyebrows shoot up and she throws her husband a half-concerned, half-amused look.
“Not that I plan to be working on anything inherently dangerous or life-threatening,” he adds quickly underneath the weight of his wife’s stare. “But accidents do happen even when you’re being careful and I’ve been on the receiving end of more than a few of those over the years. I’d rather not take any unnecessary risks, especially not with you and the boys living there.”
“Of course not.”
#back to the future#bttf#bttfdoctober#doctober 2024#i was not home at all yesterday to post this promptly but i offer it to you now#breakthrough being in a way literal and metaphorical - they're breaking through to the twentieth century with the purchase of their home#and making a breakthrough into the next step of their lives#i just thought it'd be a cute little take on this because you know that clara had a lot of things to say about what kind of place they'd#have. and she's not typically picky but for her family she wants the best#and she's delighted by the idea of actually getting to design the key aspects of their home with these renovations#the boys will have a say too of course. doc gets his workspace back#it's far enough from hv where they get privacy and they'll get to see the stars they love without the light pollution#it was just a cute moment i decided to write and ignore that it's a bit messy - i've had the worst goddamn headache these past few days#today's to come later#but their home in 18XX was far from perfect.#for clara alone it would've been fine and romance was one of the last things on her mind#let alone finding a husband and having two kids. and while that house was enough for her - it was much too small for a family of four#couple that with how inconvienient it was - it was a hell of a trip out there and back and if the weather was bad? forget it#it was an ordeal and clara - especially after the boys - didn't love that#so she absolutely did not want a repeat of those things with her new home in the century where everything's supposed to be modern#and easy. and she for sure wasn't going to compromise. with this house she got more than she could've even asked for
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