#birds writing hell

[birdsaretoddlers]

no static shock tonight but im writing something infinitely funnier i think

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lap Pillow

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[archangeldyke-all]

ok hear me out angel, what about reader asking sevika about Isha’s family? Like wondering if they shouldn’t find her family or anything.

Maybe Sevika could open up about her own past with her abusive father and confess that she relates to Isha because she was probably either an orphan or running away from a toxic environment?

idk if you share my vision but I loveee when Sevika is vulnerable.

🖤

god :,) i love this

men and minors dni

as a family, you've all been learning sign language to better communicate with isha.

the girl is young and restless, and she gets frustrated easily when her hands can't keep up with her thoughts. she would rather just use jinx's surprisingly good interpretation of her facial expressions to communicate.

so, none of you are experts yet, but isha is able to tell you all a little bit more about herself the more she learns.

she doesn't know how old she is, but in the mines she was grouped with kids aged 4-6. so she's close to there.

she doesn't have any parents, and she doesn't remember ever having parents.

and when she met jinx, she had made an escape from the mine camps she was raised in, being chased by goons wanting to bring her back. tiny hands are useful in mines. and isha was a for-lifer.

isha explains this all to you slowly, over time, mostly with jinx's encouragement. and living in the undercity, stories like isha's aren't as rare as they should be. so you're all a little numb to the true horror of isha's life before jinx.

it hits you all at different times.

jinx is the first person to shed tears for isha. you wake up in the middle of the night to horrified screams coming from the girls' room, and both you and sevika sprint in, fearing the worst.

it's just isha having a nightmare, but it's still heartwrenching to watch as she sobs and shakes and screams out in her sleep. jinx is the only one who could wake her up, her voice seeming to break through the horrors for poor isha. the girl snaps awake with a gasp, launching into jinx's arms with a relieved cry.

"w-what happened, kiddo?" jinx whispers, her voice shaky.

isha quickly, shakily signs something only jinx can see, and she bursts into tears, wrapping isha up in a hug.

"what was it? what'd she say?" sevika asks.

jinx shakes her head. "'canary went quiet.'" she says, shakily. "she dreamt about the mines suffocating her."

you shiver, and sevika sighs heavily. both of you crawl onto the floor, preparing for a long night of soothing the kids to sleep.

the next person who cries about it is you.

you stumble to the kitchen in the middle of the night in search of a glass of water and catch isha in the fridge, stuffing her face with leftovers from dinner.

"you wan' me to warm that up for you, kiddo?" you ask around a yawn.

isha jumps and stumbles to her feet, her eyes wide and fearful, the food splattering to the floor. sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry-- she signs over and over.

you blink. "no-- what? don't worry about it baby, 's just some spilled rice--"

isha bursts into tears and starts tugging at her hair, worry consuming her, you gasp, darting forward and pulling her in for a hug. she flinches just a bit before she realizes you aren't going to hurt her, and your heart shatters.

"isha, baby, you can eat as much food as you want, whenever you want." you whisper into her blue hair. isha moans against you. "that's a rule here. you'll never be in trouble for taking food. even if it's jinx's 'secret' cookies." isha giggles a little at this, and you start to cry, burying your face against her scruffy head of freshly dyed blue hair.

you both cry until isha's stomach grumbles, and then you burst into giggles.

"c'mon. i'll make you your favorite if you help me." you say, standing from the floor and flicking a light on. isha gasps.

blueberry pancakes? she signs with a grin. when you nod, isha darts forward and hugs your legs. thank you ms. baby. she signs. it makes you start to cry again.

sevika's the last one to crack, but that doesn't surprise you.

what does surprise you is how open she is about it.

isha asks about family one evening over dinner. it's got you all a little emotional, the sweet questions she signs.

is this family? she asks first.

a few forks clatter onto plates, and it's silent. isha's inquisitive gold eyes dart around the table, waiting for one of you to speak. sevika looks at you you look at isha.

jinx speaks. "close enough, yeah." she says.

you grin, and bite your lip. sevika sighs.

is there more? isha asks.

all your smiles immediately fall as the solemn topic of more family, alive and dead, is brought up.

jinx sighs. "you know vi, my sister, the asshole cop." she mutters. isha giggles at the curse. "i... had parents. don't remember much of 'em. mostly, i remember the stories vi would tell me about 'em. felicia and connel. they died when i was young. then i had a few brothers and vander... and they died too..."

isha pouts and darts forward to hug away jinx's far away look.

sevika takes over while jinx starts stroking isha's hair.

"then she had silco. and me, i guess." she says with a shrug. jinx smiles a little.

"do you have any family in zaun, sev?" jinx asks.

you reach out and grab sevika's hand, and she kisses your knuckles before speaking slowly.

"i had a dad. we had a... shaky relationship." she says simply. jinx understands this, and she hums with a nods. isha's blinking at sevika with big eyes, listening intently. "he died hating me, i mean we were always feuding. but then sometimes, we weren't feuding, and..." she shakes her head and huffs. "and after that i kinda thought family was somethin' i just wasn't any good at." a few tears fall down her cheeks, and she looks up at the girls across the table.

but look at you, now, big mama. isha signs with a happy smile.

jinx bursts into laughter at the use of the nickname, and sevika bursts into tears.

you giggle and coo, pulling sevika into your arms to let her cry in your shoulder. "'s okay, big mama." you tease.

"s-shut up!" sevika cries. isha giggles, and sevika lifts her face to smile at the girl, tears streaming down her cheeks. "look at me now, kid. exactly."

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone

[birdsaretoddlers]

lkjsdnkjbngekrj that's exactly what static shock is tbh

Hey Mr Prince!

As a writer you can make all your wishes come true, but is there any HH fic you'd love to read but wouldn't want/be able to write yourself?

Hello! :D It's been a minute!

Personally, my writing style and preferences are more suited to short or mid-length fics that focus on simpler plots but have high emotional stakes. However, I LOVE burying myself into 60k+ word plot-heavy fics, and find them so so satisfying. Serious admiration toward those that write them!

I'd love to read a slowburn Alastor-centric found family fic feat. the hotel crew, Rosie, Lucifer, et al. and just digging into the idea of Alastor slowly getting dragged into having Feelings. Alternatively, basically Static Shock by @birdsaretoddlers which is thankfully already being written, hahaha.

[gentlebeard]

If I could hold you for a minute, Darling, I’d go through it again

For @edsbacktattoo & @stedesearring 💕 Show: Our Flag Means Death - Season 1 & 2 Music: Francesca by Hozier YouTube

[gemgdynamight0]

In this scene Katsuki is looking at the camera and saying "see you later", so it means we're gonna have a Katsuki centered spin off and-

[iphigeniacomplex]

[It is abominable, unquenchable by touch] by Diane Seuss

It is abominable, unquenchable by touch, closer to the sublime than sentimental, more animal than hominid, I've seen it in the eyes of birds weaving on a stem of ragweed, voracious, singular, there is no one like me, Dickinson in her narrow bed, her cold clenched hands, her penmanship unreadable, even following a recipe for black cake, her black cake came out strange, lusher than the template, and every freak I ever met had that same look in their eyes, armless, threading a needle with their lips and teeth, legless, rounding a corner on their cerulean cart, monarchic, imperious, wild, sad, and like every virgin queen, the need for love revolting and grand.

[aria-greenhoodie]

You asked and ye shall receive. Aria,why do you use birds to symbolize Abigale's inner turmoil?. Besides the obvious surname thing. Also you apparently have more thoughts on the Muse art? 👀,explain?.

So obviously yeah, “Blackwing” is such a bird surname. BUT THATS ONLY THE SURFACE!

Birds are so often used as symbols of freedom, creatures untethered by laws of the land due to their ability to fly. In the same way, I imagine Abigale as being similar; free, not having to abide by the laws of her land as much as others did. In order to explain I think I have to dive into my version of Abigale’s backstory a bit…

(Warning: I’m going off what I know about 1800-1900s American Society. I’m no historian, but I’ve tried to keep things as believable as possible. I will say I’m pretty confident in that believability thanks to my feminist history class I been taking this semester.)

Born in the early 1880s, the Blackwing family was wealthy, yet fairly unknown. Calling it a “family” before Abigale’s birth would be a stretch in many’s opinion, being made up of just Mr. Atticus Blackwing and Mrs. Chastity Blackwing. Chastity tragically passed in childbirth, leaving Atticus to raise Abigale all on his own. He became fiercely protective and supportive of the young Abigale, a tiny spitting image of his late wife.

Abigale was always an insatiably curious child. At first, Atticus tried to teach her how to be a lady, to be domestic, to cook and clean and dote on her future husband, but quickly realized he was woefully unequipped for teaching a subject he knew nothing about. What’s more: Abigale HATED her womanly lessons. Instead, Atticus decided to let her learn something she actually was interested in; inventing.

Abigale loved to tinker, to create. The mechanical was a fascination of hers from the moment she saw it. Atticus as an architect had some mechanical knowledge, but not to the level Abigale’s insatiable desire to learn needed. But what engineering school would allow a woman in? At this point in the late 1800s, women were nearly always snubbed in inventing spaces, most universities not even offering engineering degrees for female students.

And so, Abigale’s “twin brother” Abraham Blackwing was created. A pseudonym for Abigale, under which she would don Atticus’s old clothes from his boyhood and attend a prestigious engineering school. Her father even falsified documents like Abraham’s birth certificate to make him appear like a legitimate person. It was risky, as crossdressing was a punishable offense by law back then, but Abigale was willing to take that risk if it meant she could learn.

Between her rich father supporting her every decision and passion, and her alter-ego, Abraham, to fall back on, Abigale had a lot of freedom growing up. When her father died of an illness just before she graduated, he left “Abraham” everything, which of course meant that Abigale could “live with her brother” and hold a bank account under his name. She was truly given every opportunity for freedom, more than any woman of her time.

And then, Bill Cipher enters her life.

She’s plagued by the triangular demon ip every night in her dreams, but she refuses to succumb to the shape’s demands. As tempting as building a machine like an inter-dimensional portal was, she knew better than to trust a man who wouldn’t explain his motives. When Abigale asked why Bill wanted this portal built, he couldn’t give her a straight answer, and that was enough proof to know he was no good.

After weeks of restless nights and aggravation, Abigale finds a peculiar ad in the paper, written by a certain Thurburt Mudget Waxstaff III…

On some level, she has to thank Bill for entering her life as much as she has to curse him for it. If he had never decided to torment her specifically, she never would have met the rest of the Anti-Cipher Society. Abigale THRIVED in the society, delighted in inventing new ways to ward off Cipher, collaborating with her dear Jessamine to create specialized weaponry, learning self defense from Horace, gossiping with O’Pimm, spending night after night explaining the mechanics of how her inventions worked to Thurburt so he could whip up a stellar sales pitch… she had never felt more alive! She was flying high, much like a bird on the wind.

And then the conference happened.

Thurburt was institutionalized, right then and there. Abigale watched the asylum workers from backstage with mounting horror. Worst case scenario for Thurburt, he’d be locked in a cell or sent out west at some work camp, but for Abigale? If the asylum workers got ahold of her, she knew they’d think her hysterical. Treatments for “insane” men were often much kinder than treatments for women in those times. Deeming Thurburt insane would send him to a locked cell, but he would at least be allowed to remain himself. Abigale had heard of women like her, eccentric unmarried women, “frivolous women” as they were often called, being scooped up by doctors and spat back onto the street with their entire personalities wiped. A hammer and a well placed nail up the inside of one’s nose could do heinous things. Abigale would sooner die then let them take what made her HER away.

So she ran. She tried to take Jessamine with her, but she refused to leave Thurburt. For six days Abigale hid in the society’s underground bunker, terrified of venturing outside, not knowing what happened to her companions besides Thurburt. She only ventured out on the seventh day because she had run out of food.

She couldn’t go back to her house, when she tried to scope it out, she saw the asylum workers already knocking at her door. She couldn’t stay in the bunker, it was only a matter of time before it was found. She was desperate for a way out, to keep herself free.

And here comes Mr. Northwest.

See, the thing about birds is that while they make excellent symbols of freedom, they also make excellent symbols of being trapped. Birds can be put into cages, forced to sing or speak for meager treats, and lets not forget that at that time most birdcages were anything but spacious and comfortable. Most captive birds of the time were expected to die quickly, only purchased in order to sing prettily for a short while before their tiny little hearts stopped beating. Birds are as much a symbol of freedom as they are of captivity, of being trapped, of the LOSS of freedom.

Abigale never wanted to be a wife, but what choice did she have? Mr. Northwest offered her a way out if she married him. Her choice was thus: escape the state with Mr. Northwest as her husband, or stay in town and eventually be found and promptly lobotomized, erased of any trace of her real personality.

She chose the former.

Better to live in a gilded cage, twittering for scraps, then to be gutted and stuffed on som taxidermist’s wall…

Right?

As for the muse stuff most of my trout process I already told you in the notes of the original piece lol

[mad-girlslove-song]

"I have known that I have wanted to be an incredible mother for as long as I have feared being a regrettable daughter."

Blythe Baird

[brigitoshaughnessy]

I don’t really care that my neighbor has 3 roosters inside city limits when they aren’t supposed to have any, but actually I do. I do fucking care because it’s 12:30 AM, and that mother fucking cock thinks it’s dawn. Also, I have to sleep with the window open, but that’s an entirely different discussion.

[birdsaretoddlers]

Hello again! I'm the anon in grad school who read Static Shock to get through finals week. Just wanted to update that I DID end up with all A's and I credit the momentary stress relief provided by your writing with keeping me awake and sane. Gonna do another reread as a reward :) hope you're doing well!

aaaa this actually gives me a good excuse to say something so!

hello, static shock nation.

the tiny bird who pilots this account burned out like a MOTHERFUCKER so im currently taking a break lmaooo. i'm still around but i've stepped back majorly from a lot of social media (though i'm lurking)! fic isn't abandoned by any means, im just Recuperating. because i wrote about 125k in Six Months.

and when you do that, you die a little inside haha. i'll be back at some point!

grad school anon i love you i wish the best for you and i've posted a LOT more fic since then so go check it all out!!!

[fistfuloflightning]

He had his father’s directions to Gusu, but the journey was longer than he thought. He had gotten lost again and again, guided back by the weasel spirits Wen Qing and Wen Ning, had been given spiritual gifts from the tree spirit Xiao Xingchen, had been given food by the eager wolf-dog Jin Ling.

But when he arrived in the mountains, Lan Sizhui realized all that meant nothing, as he did not know how to reach the city in the clouds. He did not have Lan Wangji’s ability to summon clouds nor would Bichen respond to him the way it had to his mother. Helpless, he found himself staring longingly into the sky.

A great gust of wings and Wei Wuxian landed beside him in a whirlwind of black and white and scarlet. “Uncle! You followed me,” Lan Sizhui said in surprise.

The crane bent his long neck to look into the boy’s eyes. “Did you think I would not? I hatched alongside your father’s river, have guarded it and him, and cherish him like a brother. Do not think I would not protect his son when he is unable to.”

Lan Sizhui felt like a little boy again, taking his first steps with his hand fisted in his uncle’s feathers, wobbly and uncertain, and felt that all over again. Relying on Wei Wuxian’s strength to keep himself moving forward.

Lan Sizhui returned his face to the billowing, gold-touched clouds high above. Somewhere hidden in them was the great city his mother had left to see the world below, and had returned to a captive. “I have been given aid to get here, and gifts, but all of it would be for nothing if I cannot sprout wings.”

Wei Wuxian clacked his beak in thought.

“I will take you,” he decided. “It was I who first urged your mother to leave the Cloud Recesses to visit the world below, despite her being forbidden from doing so. Never before have I cherished the consequences of my actions so dearly.” The crane touched his scarlet forehead against Lan Sizhui’s.

The boy gripped Bichen tightly, steeling himself. His mother was waiting. “Very well. I do not know what waits for me above, but at least I have a fierce protector in you, Uncle.”

“Always.”

Gripping his shoulders securely, Wei Wuxian carried him into the sky. And with every great wingbeat, Lan Sizhui could feel himself grow closer to his mother, her presence like a bright beacon.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

the sweetest poison

continuation of this

carrion trio angst i love them so much i have to put them through the wringer for real

(cw: violence, attempted murder, suicidal thoughts)

"no, no, no, please. sans, don't-"

"don't worry. i'll put you out of your misery. i'll save you too, like i'll save everyone."

crow is, as expected, wriggly when murder tries to pin him down on the ground. his clawed hands dig into murder's arms, tearing the clothes and drawing blood. but murder is used to this - the pain that is. it's easy to ignore the stinging pain and numb the vortex in his screaming soul. just one stab through the soul and crow will be free from the agony of this cursed world.

it was a mistake letting someone close to him again, after all this time. and now crow is hurt, and it's all his fault.

he can fix this. he can still salvage this.

"sans, sans, i don't want to die! no, please!" crow cries, a pitiful sound so different from his usual cheer it makes murder's own soul hurt just hearing it.

"it's okay, it's okay," murder attempts his best soothing voice. "it'll be over soon, i promise."

LIAR.

murder ignores papyrus' scoff as he struggles to overpower crow's surprisingly strong grip on his arms. honestly, he doesn't understand why crow is so adamant on this. dying is easy, living is hard - isn't that always the case?

after all, death will gladly welcome both of them in his realms. murder can't dream of a more peaceful ending than that.

(is it?)

murder is so focused on his soon-to-be-victim that he doesn't see a spear directed towards him. the attack hits him and flings him away from crow. as he tries to get up, multiple spears sprouts from the ground and trap him in a makeshift cage.

"undyne...?" he mutters. no, that couldn't be possible. there's no reason why undyne would be in snowdin at this time for no reason. murder can only turn his head to see a pair of blue wings covering his sight of his beloved messenger. as the interloper turns around, murder freezes. it is undyne, but not the one he's familiar with. this one sports a jacket and a pair of goggles just like crow, and she looks furious.

(ah, so this is what the true hero of the underground looks like.)

undyne takes a step towards murder, in her arms holding crow, who looks so much smaller (so much more fragile) without the weight of most of his wings. murder only has eyes on the frazzled little crow, feeling something heavy deep in his nonexistent stomach.

"dyne, no..." crow whispers, weakly tugging on undyne's jacket. the ginger looks at crow, who continues. "don't hurt him... let's just leave... please..."

for some reasons, that plea doesn't make murder feel any better, only worse.

(he doesn't deserve it - the compassion, the mercy. he needs the pain of retribution inflicted upon him.)

as the two winged monsters disappears, murder crumbles on the ground. he doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry at what just transpired.

I SHOULD'VE KNOWN YOU'D FAIL. YOU'RE NOT HIS SAVIOR.

(he could never l o v e again.)

numbly, he picks up one of the scattered black feathers and wonders if he'll ever see that friendly smile again.

[glitter-stained]

*reading Dixon's Birds of Prey* Well DC stands for disrespect canon apparently, who tf left that guy in charge of anything

[corviiids]

For the director's cut fanfic thing: ⭐⭐⭐ (these are THREE stars valid for whatever. I'm giving you blank checks)

thank you again <3

blank check 2/3 goes back to as you like it again! but this time i want to talk about my shadow designs for the akechi bossfights we've encountered in the preceding chapters >:3 there are five - the Puppet, the Singer, the Bard, the Dancer, and the Magician.

but this got really ABSURDLY long this time so ill stick to mostly the Puppet, and just do a brief ("brief") overview of the others for now.......

(for context: this is my palace au and akechi's keywords are akechi goro, the world, theatre.)

the Puppet (photos of giant puppets below if that freaks you out!)

the first Wing the thieves encounter is the puppet show, and the boss shadow is a giant marionette:

For one thing, it’s huge—maybe three or four times the size of a human being. It’s also gleaming, carefully polished and buffed, reflecting light more viciously in the areas where it seems the wood might be chipped or worn. The polish throws the lines of joints and pieces into sharp relief, giving the puppet the general impression of something whole that had been cut up and pieced slowly together with hinges and nails. Behind it, mostly concealed by its limp bulk, is a door. As they might have gleaned from the chatter of the audience, the show does not yet seem to have begun. As such, the puppet on stage is limp on its strings. Most disturbingly, it’s draped backward, not forward, snapped unnaturally at the spine and giving it the extremely uncanny look of a corpse on uneven ceiling hooks. They can just make out the side of the thing’s eyes from where they’re standing. Gravity has not been kind to them: the puppet’s eyelids are dropped open, bulging eyes left wide and staring up as far back as the build will let them. They haven’t rolled all the way into the wooden skull, presumably because they can’t. Instead, the unseeing yellow eyes remain fixed on the back corner of the stage. The puppet is entirely still. “I think I’m going to be sick,” Makoto says faintly.

i think the Puppet is my favourite of the five because he's so disturbing. i imagine he looks a bit like the giant marionettes by the french street theatre show royal de luxe:

but i really love these guys, so i think it's uncharitable to say akechi's shadow looks exactly like them. i know giant puppets are always a little freaky but i genuinely love the royal de luxe puppets and i think the workmanship on these does genuinely do a ton of work to dispel that uncanny vibe.

puppet akechi on the other hand is absolutely drenched in uncanny valley, so i guess imagine these puppets but much scarier. the main thing is those places where different pieces of wood are joined, in the joints / on the limbs / etc, because that's very key to puppet akechi's look in my mind, hence "something whole that had been cut up and pieced slowly together with hinges and nails". the Puppet is a marionette, but the way he's been constructed and set up on stage almost calls to mind the imagery of a corpse that's been reconstructed to perform. the way he moves is really unnatural:

Ren is beginning to think they might be able to get past and slip through that door without a fight when the whole creature rears up, back strings going taut, and lashes wildly out at him with a horrible clack of its arms—he leaps back and crashes directly into Haru, who catches and dips him like a princess before twirling him frantically into Ryuji and the puppet gouges a deep gash in the stage floor.    As they watch it screeches, howls an unnatural shriek, eyes suddenly wide and bulging larger. They ‘blink’ a few times, eyelids flipping, then the puppet Akechi goes limp on its strings again, though decidedly more upright than before, like whoever’s pulling the strings is now on guard. Its eyes stay open this time, bright gold and piercing.

very much not like something exercising its own agency, but like a body on strings being operated by someone who did not care to practice in the artistry of operating a puppet to make it look like a live thing - the puppet is literally just a tool to be flailed about.

this also shows in the way the puppet sits when it's at rest. guys do you know how god damn hard it is to find normal pictures of puppets? when you google marionette it just comes up with a bunch of fnaf shit. anyway check this guy out

at rest, they usually just kind of dangle innocently, or might slouch forward if given too much slack, right? it was important to me that puppet akechi look very wrong at rest, as if he's not "at rest" so much as he's just been left to hang. hence: "it’s draped backward, not forward, snapped unnaturally at the spine and giving it the extremely uncanny look of a corpse on uneven ceiling hooks." i'm basically imagining meat hooks, like, in a slaughterhouse or something you know? like he's just dangling from those.

that imagery was inspired by persona 5 dancing, actually - akechi's finishing pose in his dance is this:

this is just such an unnatural pose. when i saw it for the first time, i just couldn't get the image out of my head of a string puppet who'd been hung up and left to dangle without any regard for how it might look or feel (lol). not to mention that blank look in his eyes. i think a lot of the Puppet was born from this dance because the dance itself is so dynamic and silly but then the lead-up to the end suddenly gets very jerky and puppet-like. i really like his dance!

the Puppet's battle mechanic is that the applause will continue as long as the Puppet is either acting or getting hurt (kind of like the mettaton fight in undertale actually?). if the applause stops, then the Puppet will be inflicted with Despair - in p5 the Despair effect means you lose SP for each turn and then instantly die on the third turn. makoto ends up healing the Puppet and yusuke mercy-kills it before it can commit suicide:

Fox silently raises his gun. The Thieves collectively flinch as the Puppet dissipates. The applause starts back up. “If we’d left things silent,” Yusuke says, “it would have only happened again.”

because this is the first shadow bossfight the thieves encounter in the Theatre, i needed it to have some broader implications (vs some of the later shadows who have more specific interactions). so obviously the analogue for akechi is that the performance needs to continue and he needs to continue receiving acknowledgement from the public / from shido / etc because if he's not useful and entertaining and noticeable and such, then he's nothing - his life doesn't mean anything. obviously, if he doesnt perform for shido (perform in the sense of working, but also in the sense of showmanship) he'll probably be killed. but also, akechi really externalises his sense of self to an insane degree. the conceit of the palace is essentially that his entire internal world is the show, it's just this shallow performance, the backstage is empty. if he stops existing in the cognition of the masses, he essentially "stops existing".

i think a lot about third semester akechi in royal and how completely he's faded from public awareness. he doesn't care because he's a dead man walking and has locked into nihilism at that point. but if you look at what akechi says in the engine room:

his voice when he says this says a lot to me. akechi's envisioning the world as it will look when he has to return and face the consequences of the world discovering what's behind the curtain and realising his credibility was all a show. to be honest, i think this also plays a role in his decision to sacrifice himself in this scene. i don't think he wanted to die, but i think he did realise that the post-thieves, post-truth world wasn't a place that held anything for him anymore, and his desire to return to that reality was dramatically weakened, so it was an easier decision for him to choose to make that sacrifice than it otherwise might have been.

um, i had a point. okay, so, i was saying that once the applause stops, the Puppet begins to despair. the Puppet also is the most direct representation of akechi as someone who is being used. all the shadow bosses correlate to some aspect of akechi's need to perform and to the varying reasons why they all have that sense of desperation:

“Kinda feels like they’re just defendin’ themselves, you know,” [Ryuji] says. “Or somethin’. Look too much like him. It’s weird they can’t talk, cos it’s like fighting a dumb animal. Don’t they all seem real scared to you?” None of Akechi’s Shadows have delivered grand speeches about conquering the world. Even Futaba’s Shadow had given them a fairly strong indication of what was going on with her, that overwhelming guilt which had given birth to a resolve to lock herself up in her mind and die. Akechi’s Shadows have lashed out, tried to destroy them, sure. But it feels different in a way that’s growing more and more impossible to ignore. Desperate to fend them off, more than anything, like each one is the final bastion standing for a world that could crumble at any moment.

that's why once you figure out how to stop each shadow's "show" from going on, they instantly die:

ripping the Singer's mask off causes him to cease to exist (see below)

silencing the Bard, who relies on the power of his words to manipulate others, removes his power and reveals that he's pretty easy to take down

the Dancer's feet are always bleeding because he can't stop moving. he's hard to catch, but the moment he stops dancing, he's revealed to have extremely low defence and can be taken out very easily

but the Puppet is literally being manipulated by a puppetmaster. because he no longer has any use when the applause stops, he no longer has a reason to exist. i also just thought this would be a fun effect to start on because it's so drastic as an introduction to akc's psyche and really gives the thieves a sense of what they're working with by throwing them directly into the deep end.

ok let's leave the puppet behind for now. im gonna be more brief with the others i promise (maybe)

the Singer

LET'S TALK about. beneath the mask. a song about ren. but it's also a song about goro.

I'm a shape-shifter at Poe's masquerade Hiding both face and mind All free for you to draw

the fic goes over some of my meta about this:

[Yusuke] I have done some research. [Makoto] Oh? [Yusuke] I believe when the Opera Shadow sang of “Poe’s Masquerade”, he was referring to a short story by Edgar Allan Poe, entitled “The Masque of the Red Death”.

eternally grateful for the scene during the pyramid arc where yusuke loredumps about egyptian mythology so i have precedent to do this

yusuke summarises the story in this chapter (chapter 4), but basically: the story is about rich people abandoning the common folk to a plague, until a personification of the plague wearing a red mask enters the castle. when his mask is removed, it's revealed there is nothing underneath. everyone in the castle then succumbs to the plague.

the superficial connections to akechi are pretty obvious - red mask, plague doctor. etc. but this song is really, really telling for both ren and goro. i briefly went over this in my last dvd commentary post about the palace fic, but this relates to my meta around both of them as mask wearers. the line "all free for you to draw" is a big one - ren is "all free for you," the player, "to draw" - he becomes who you need him to be, and because you need to max out your confidants, he becomes (via you) who his friends need him to be.

goro is similar on a different scale because he moulds his personality to what the public expects him to be. he takes it one step further, because it's less utility for him and more foundational - as i said, to an extent the performance is the substance of his personality, which is the core of the distortion. so both ren and goro are wearing the mask, malleable in character, their actual personality being somewhat questionable, but that emptiness is only true for goro. ren's definitely got something underneath it, but goro feels like he doesn't.

brief cw for suicidal ideation, but i also generally take it as a given that goro doesn't really expect to live past 18 after defeating shido. not that he's actively suicidal, but i think literally or figuratively he knows after shido's downfall, his own life will pretty much be over, and that's part of what drives the emptiness. the show really only needs to go on until that point, and after that there's no need to build a real thing underneath to return to. he's very much living for that goal.

anyway: so the Singer starts out singing the Phantom of the Opera - the Shadow is very much modelled after the phantom - but swaps to beneath the mask and begins to connect with ren. the Singer wears a red mask. i really like this mask! i envision it as looking like someone pouring blood over his face and then the blood freezing in place, so it just looks very molten and liquid but fixed over half his face.

ren defeats the Singer by ripping his mask off:

[Ren] Please don’t take off my mask, revealing dark [Ann] OMG!! [Ann] THAT’S WHAT HAPPENED WHEN WE TOOK OFF HIS MASK!! [Ann] HE REVEALED DARK!!!! [Ann] HE DISAPPEARED!!!!!!!!!!

(i love the thieves because i dont have to be subtle about my symbolism i can just make them say it)

anyway, just like the figure in the Masque of the Red Death, ripping off the Singer's mask reveals "dark" underneath - he ceases to exist.

Just a cage of bones There's nothing inside

the Bard and the Dancer

when i was first plotting this fic, i was actually designing the palace not as a written environment but as though it would be a playable place. so a lot of it is informed by me picturing what this palace would be like to play through and explore, building it out as a video game environment in my mind's eye and then trying to describe it from that point. i took the same approach to the bossfights, so they're all designed around central gameplay mechanics which are largely based on status effects and how the player would strategise around them. (to that end, a lot of the design stuff in my doc never made it into the fic...)

the conceit of the bard was a shadow who can manifest abstract concepts into being by manipulating reality with his words. so the status effects he uses are brainwash and sleep, mostly. his monologues are modified versions of shakespeare's works.

part of the reason why i started writing this fic was specifically to challenge myself in aras of writing im not very confident in: so longform planning, progression of plot, environment description, and action scenes being major ones. writing all the boss fights was and continues to be a real challenge. the chapter that the bard shows up in (chapter 5) ended up taking ages and ages in part because i kept putting off writing this fight. now that it's done, though, the bard fight is actually maybe my favourite fight scene i've written lol. it always turns out that way!!! the reason i like it is because i realised the physical action wasn't the fun part of writing a fight like this. since it was focused on status effects, it meant i got to crawl into ren's headspace when he got brainwashed, which i really really enjoyed doing because i got to drag out some trauma that joker has lovingly repressed.

   to set my fellows, phantoms in the wings    in deadly hate the one against the other…    This isn’t the Casino. This is somewhere else entirely. The Casino, and everything that came with it, that was months ago. How did he forget? The cottonwool that had crept so slowly into his blood dissipates in a mad rush that leaves him dizzy with disbelief. His hands, now that he can feel them again, are trembling. The knife between his fingers, trembling. The cool floor beneath him, the air in his lungs. How close had he come to never feeling that again?    Had he really just been feeling safe about that plan? Had he really felt everything was going to be okay? If anything had gone wrong—anything at all—he’d have been gone. He’d have been dead. How had they made it so he felt okay with that?    A trick? A ruse?    How blasé they’d all been, when it was his life they were gambling with like a worthless set of poker chips! And they’re here—all around him. Safe? He’s never been in more danger.    “Joker!”    Surrounded. He’s surrounded by the ones who left him for dead.

the Dancer doesn't get as much attention in text because i didn't want to slow down the pacing of the story every few minutes to do another huge scene tgat doesn't really serve a purpose, just like the exploration of the Globe Wing didn't. all that mattered was that he was shown to be adaptable, agile, and resilient - the Dancer needs to be in top condition at all times and ready to dodge any threat. the imagery that came through to me the strongest was the idea that his feet are always bleeding, so he leaves bloodstains all over the floor.

the Magician

this was another scene i adored writing. i think environment-wise, the House of Cards is my favourite Wing in the palace because it's the most unique structure. it's not a styled theatre like the others, it's more on-theme to the Magician, like he's set up his own performance environment. so it's just a huge house of cards made of crumbling playing cards which is really difficult to navigate and which joker kind of blends into.

the premise for the Magician was someone who needs to perform miracles and present impossible illusions as reality with a flair for drama. the Magician fools the Thieves over and over and over again, because they are good-hearted people who want to save him.

did you ever see that unused mementos request in royal where akechi tells the thieves about a target to save someone, and doesn't tell them that the someone in question is dodgy themself, and watches to see how quickly the Thieves immediately trust them?

i don't think i based this fight off this request because im pretty sure i had it planned out before i ever saw this, but i was really pleased to see it because it's very much the same idea. even in the engine room, akechi calls the thieves idiots for inviting him back into the team. of course, this isn't a good or healthy worldview lol and it's something he has to unlearn because he literally trusts no one and that's not an extreme anyone should be endorsing, but he also has a point in that the thieves are willing to throw their faith into things way too easily and don't look critically at people or situations. so the magician fools them, victimises them, tricks them into considering him a victim, fools them again, traumatises them, but they all continue to feel empathy for him and try to save him when he's in trouble. akc's cynicism vs the thieves' faith is a big theme of this one i think and the question is like, when to doubt vs when to trust even when you have evidence to the opposition. i think the right position is somewhere between thesis and antithesis (which iirc is not actually the wording hegel used when describing dialectics? lol... i might be wrong. i never studied hegel so my knowledge is pretty superficial. but i think this was a translation thing anyway because allegedly goro doesnt refer directly to hegel in jp? someone can confirm or deny idk)

anyway those are the bossfights we've had so far!!! just the VIP Box to go now......................... :3

[m1d-45]

Let it be known that I love writing fluff, and I listen to character audios sometimes. SO! I came up with a cute idea for sagau imposter au. I heard somewhere that Xiao's adeptus form is a bird, so I wonder, what kind of bird? And that got me thinking. Xiao being a little song bird, or perhaps even a cardinal.

Now imagine: while looking for the imposter, Xiao stumbles upon them sitting beneath a tree, just feeding some birds. Said birds are absolutely loving the attention since the creator of Teyvat is giving them food and love!

Xiao watches, rather curious. The creator he knows hates birds, because they always dive and cause problems for them. But now... these little birds have completely abandoned any fear they may hold for human beings, happily landing on the hands and shoulders of this supposed imposter.

So he decides to test something.

Xiao turns into a small bird and approaches cautiously. In his smaller form, he's vulnerable to attack. But the person before him doesn't try to hurt him. Rather, they smile and call him "little friend" as they offer food to him. In his distrust, he bites them with his sharp beak.

His heart shatters when he sees divine blood spilling from the wound.

He's about to fly away, get as far away from here as he can. He found the true creator, and instead of worshipping them, he bit them! He caused them to bleed, he shouldn't even be near them-!

His mind stills when they pet his feathered head.

They murmur kind words to him, apologizing to him. They believed that they had startled him, that he bit to protect himself. They forgave him, they felt no hatred towards him, no anger or disappointment. Instead, they offered some chopped almonds, hoping he'd prefer that over bird seed.

He sang for them as he perched on their shoulder.

After that, he did his best to secretly protect the creator he'd harmed. He would adopt his smaller form and sing for them when they felt sad, and he'd use his human form to guard them from a distance. Yes, it made his chest ache whenever they looked at him with fear when they saw his more human form, but the yaksha only shook it off. It only made sense that you'd be scared. He was a frightening person, one that had tried to harm you before. He refused to try and change your feelings towards him. He didn't have the right.

He would be content to sing for you as a harmless bird.

-sibling anon (sorry if this is out of character for him I just like the idea)

oh….. he’s so soft…..

xiao hovering near the edge of the crowd, at first, drawing your attention since he doesn’t seem to be eating any of the seed you’d passed out.

when he finally hops within arms reach, you reach to nudge some of the food next to him closer, only to quickly whip your hand back. the birds around (on) you all flutter at the sudden movement, but you inspect your finger, the blue blood of teyvat welling up. your instinct is to stick it in your mouth, but that doesn’t seem safe considering a bird bit it, so you dab at it with a napkin.

the bird cries and flaps his wings, distraught, and your heart hurts. poor guy, you probably scared him, moving so quickly.

you pull out some chopped almonds from your pocket. the plan was to have them as a snack, but now… you put a few in your palm and close your hand around it, reaching forward to gently run two fingers over the birds back.

the other birds in the area seemed receptive to that, and this one does too, calming down considerably.

you take your hand back, opening your palm to drop the almonds on the floor, nudging them close before backing off.

“there you go,” you murmur, as the bird dips down to inspect the food. “i won’t hurt you.”

you allow yourself a silent cheer when it eats one of the almond pieces.

you see the small bird fluttering around you often, always on the edge of your vision. it’s easy to identify, the purple patch of feathers on its forehead easily standing out, and you’re always certain to push some food over to it. almonds, not birdseed.

the bird is a dark blue-teal, the underside of its wings a softer blue. it’s like no other bird you’ve seen in liyue, something that quickly catches your attention.

you brush some dirt off you as you stand, noting the way the bird immediately looks up from its food, unlike the others, to flap up into the tree you were sitting under.

you crack a smile, carefully reaching a finger for it. you’re slower this time, cautious of its skittish nature, but it lets you approach. when you carefully pet over its head, the birds eyes close.

your smile grows, and you try not to laugh at how confused the bird seems when you pull your hand away.

“i have to go,” you explain. “the millelith… they’re getting too close again. i won’t be able to see you again, little friend.”

the bird chirps, nearly indignant, and you do laugh this time. putting a small piece of almond on the branch in front of it, you wave goodbye to the other birds, seeing the blue one hadn’t touched the almond.

you frown. hopefully it’ll be alright….

xiao watches you until you’re out of sight, and even then, he stays on the branch.

you…. he’d forgotten you were being hunted by the millelith. he’d forgotten the order to look out for you. he’d forgotten the qixing called you a criminal.

who could blame him? it was easy to forget everything at your side, when you carefully ran your fingers over his feathers, scratching at his jaw with the edge of your nail. yes, he was vulnerable as a bird, but it was easy to be vulnerable with you. it was easy to be open, to sing as best he could in this form, to allow himself close enough to see the way your eyes lit up whenever another bird landed on your outstretched finger.

xiao dropped to the ground, morphing back into his human form. predictably, the birds cawed and flew away quickly. he watched them go, his mind contrasting it with how readily they flocked to you.

you…

he turned to the branch he was on, to the small almond piece left behind. the small symbol of your care, of how you recognized that he didn’t touch the birdseed and instead offered him your own food to eat. normally he wouldn’t lower himself to eating off the ground at all, let along bird food, but almonds weren’t awful and you seemed so happy when he ate..

xiao looked back to where you’d gone, to the sandbearer trees swaying in a soft wind.

he allowed his form to fall away and spread his wings, taking flight on the same breeze that urged you along.

perhaps he’d forget his orders for a little while longer, if it meant he could spend that time with you.

perhaps he’d forget his orders for a little longer, if it meant he’d get to spend that time with you.