#calcifer rising

[elizabugz]

[hellish-cruelty]

Ghibli food

Ghibli featured - 1. Ocean Waves (1993), 2. Ponyo (2008), 3. Spirited away (2001), 4. How's Moving castle (2004), 5. The Wind rises (2013), 6. Kiki's delivery service (1989), 7. and 8. When Marine was there (2014), 9. Castle in the sky (1986), 10. From up on poppy hill (2011)

[stories-of-imagination]

Sometimes, and for seemingly no reason at all, I get irrationally mad we never got a prequel to Howl's Moving Castle.

[spiteweaver]

previous | next

(Note: this story takes place in May of 2020!)

--

The sharp rapping startled Branwen out of a comfortable doze. His library was cast now in heavy shadow, save for what little of it the light from the dying hearth could reach. There was no color along the horizon, and the night beyond his window was deep. He feared, for a moment, that he had awoken at the breaking of a second time loop, but relaxed at the sound of Calcifer milling about in the kitchen. The smell of tea roused him further. Sighing, he set the book he’d been reading aside and got shakily to his feet.

Another series of quick, almost frantic knocks sounded at the door. His ears flicked forward and then back. It hadn’t been a dream; someone, very real and very persistent, was standing on his front stoop. He couldn’t imagine who it could be at such a late hour and turned to the window once again to confirm that the capital was not in flames. As before, all was quiet and dark.

“I’ll get it!” Calcifer called.

“No,” Branwen replied as his mate hurried out into the foyer, “stay behind me.”

Calcifer raised a brow. “I’m a foot taller than you, Bran.”

“You’re also wearing a frilly pink apron,” Branwen pointed out, and before Calcifer could protest further, strode forward with only a split second’s hesitation.

On the stoop stood a dam, her figure obscured by an ashen grey cloak, and in her hands was a gently glowing glob. Even without the meager light it provided, however, Branwen would have known her. He did not need to see the silhouette of her face, her warm, dark skin, or the wisps of smoky hair poking out from beneath her hood. Her scent was enough to evoke vivid imagery in his mind of roaring flames—and the cinders they left behind. They danced before his eyes, a translucent mockery of a pain he had never quite managed to rid himself of, before flickering and dying against the bitter chill of a late spring evening.

The next thing Calcifer knew, his mate was throwing himself at their guest. He reacted swiftly, getting his arms around Branwen’s waist and hoisting the enraged Spiral up in a bear hug meant to disable him. Instead, it only incensed him further, and he shed his scaleless guise, slipping between Calcifer’s fingers like sand.

“You,” Branwen fumed, “you monster!”

“Calcifer,” the dam said, stepping back to avoid one of Brawnen’s blind swipes, “had I known you had taken a mate, I would have brought wedding gifts.”

“We aren’t—” Calcifer gripped Branwen by his tail and pulled back with a grunt— “married yet, Oya!”

All at once, Branwen’s squirming ceased. He turned in his mate’s grasp, but rather than anger, there was a misery so deep and so poignant in his eyes that Calcifer dropped him then and there. Branwen’s scales gave way to soft flesh again, and in the tiniest, most pitiful voice imaginable, he asked, “You know her, Calcifer?”

“I—I—” Calcifer’s mouth was suddenly bone dry. “Well, yes. I helped her construct a suitable home for her, ah—Ogun is a bit hard to explain, but I helped her make his hearth.”

Oya, meanwhile, was examining Branwen with renewed interest. She recognized him, though she wished she hadn’t. “You’re that hatchling,” she murmured thoughtfully, “from the Emberwood.”

The Emberwood—Calcifer knew it well. Colloquially known as the Scorched Forest, it stood on the border between the Ashfall Waste and the Shifting Expanse, not far from Emberglow Hearth. Very few clans called it home, as it provided little in the way of shelter or smithing. In fact, most of its residents were magic-workers, who found its isolated locale inviting.

Magic-workers…

…like Branwen.

“Whatever happened,” Calcifer said, “I don’t know anything about it, Branwen.”

“How could you not?” Branwen asked. He seemed to curl in on himself then, growing smaller with every word. “If you know her, you must know what she did.”

Calcifer reached for him, but he pulled away. “Branwen, I swear—”

“Listen to your mate,” Oya said. “Do you think I speak of my wretched work to every dragon who crosses my path? I come to him now not because we were intimately acquainted, but because, as he said, it was he who built Ogun’s hearth.”

“You came to my home,” Branwen began, his fists trembling at his sides, “the home of the drake whose clan you slaughtered, to commission my mate?!”

Oya glanced down at Branwen’s quivering hands. “Yes.”

“Go,” Branwen spat, “before I kill you.”

“I will not,” Oya replied. She did not flinch when Branwen rounded on her again. “Allow me to rephrase: I cannot.”

Before Branwen could make good on his threat, Calcifer stepped forward. “Can he survive in our hearth for a while?” he asked. “I’ll need to gather the proper supplies and dig out my old blueprints.”

“How long?”

“A week at most.”

Oya looked to the glowing glob in her hands, as if for confirmation. It pulsed once, twice, and she nodded. “A week,” she said, “no more.”

“Did you miss the part where I said she slaughtered my clan?!” Branwen asked, his rage so potent that it forced his voice up by several octaves. Typically, Calcifer would have found this amusing. Tonight, he was sweating like a pig. “I know you aren’t stupid, Calcifer! Quite the contrary, you’re meant to be the emotionally intelligent one in this relationship!”

“I’m not doing it for her, Bran,” Calcifer replied. “I’m doing it for Ogun.”

“The glob?!”

“He’s not a—” Calcifer pinched the bridge of his nose. He loved Branwen, but he was still learning how to communicate with him. “Oya,” he muttered in a tone that suggested he was struggling not to rip fistfuls of his hair out, “you can explain it better than I can.”

“Ogun is a homunculus,” Oya said with a shrug.

Branwen cast his mate an exasperated look. “You could have just told me! I know what a homunculus is!”

“I don’t!” Calcifer replied. “Whatever they are, they aren’t exactly commonplace! I’ve certainly never met one, and that’s not how Oya explained him to me!”

“I suppose I went into more detail,” Oya conceded, “seeing as I was entrusting the building of his hearth to you. All your mate needs to know is that I created him as a tool to use in my work. Yes, I see you glaring at him.” The dam’s molten gold gaze snapped up to meet Branwen’s. Neither was willing to back down. “He had no free will then. In the matter of your clan’s destruction, he is blameless.”

“He’s the figure I saw in the fire,” Branwen growled lowly. “He’s the one who enacted your will!”

“Because he could not refuse me,” Oya said again, “which I regret deeply. Over time, free will grew within him. That is why we are here. He—” She faltered, and Branwen cursed himself for feeling a pang of sympathy— “he begged me not to use him again. He knew that the Grand Circle would order us to quash Por’s rebellion. The thought of it made him sick. Perhaps it made me sick as well.”

There was more Branwen wanted to say, but for once, he bit his tongue. “I want your word that neither of you will harm myself, Calcifer, or any of our clanmates.”

“You have it.”

“If you put a single toe out of line, Dreamweaver will hear about it.”

“Of course.”

“You know Dreamweaver, don’t you? You’ve heard of them?”

“I have, and I do not wish to cross them.”

Seemingly satisfied, Branwen turned back toward the open door and motioned for the pair to follow him. “You can stay in the guest bedroom,” he said, “until you’ve secured your own housing.”

—

“So what’s all this about a clan?”

Branwen answered Calcifer’s query with a drawn-out sigh. After ensuring that both Oya and Ogun were comfortable, he had slipped away into his study for the express purpose of avoiding this very conversation. It was complicated, and he was tired. Unfortunately, Calcifer had come with a bribe. Smiling softly, the Imperial crossed to where he sat hunched over his desk and offered him a mug of piping hot tea. It had been made just the way he liked it, sweetened with sugar and honey.

Begrudgingly, he accepted the bribe.

“I thought I made myself quite clear,” he mumbled, blowing the steam from his mug and taking a quick sip. “Oya slaughtered my birth clan, every last drake, dam, and rook. Knowing that she was working for the Grand Circle puts things into perspective. We were a rebellious lot, and the Grand Circle doesn’t like rebels.”

“You told me that no one had ever loved you,” Calcifer said as he took up residence in the only other chair in the room that wasn’t piled high with books, “and that you had never loved anyone else.”

“That’s what makes it…complicated.”

Calcifer reached out to squeeze his knee. “Take it one word at a time.”

“I…” The words stuck in Branwen’s throat. It was an admittance he had promised never to utter. “I may have loved my parents, despite their many failings. When Oya came, I was still young, only a hatchling, but I was old enough to know that I was unwanted. My mother and father were rebels. They didn’t have time to raise a well-behaved hatchling, let alone one of my choleric disposition. I was a picky eater. I demanded constant attention. I was often ill. They shunted me between caretakers, whoever’s schedule was the least hectic on a given day. I was the only hatchling in our clan.”

“How did you escape?” Calcifer asked. “Someone must have loved you enough to bring you to safety.”

Branwen shook his head. “It was Oya who spared me. I remember wailing over my parents’ bodies. A shadow fell across me. I thought—” He sucked in a sharp breath— “I wanted her to kill me, but she didn’t. She told me to leave the Ashfall Waste and never return, and I obeyed.”

“I’m—I’m so sorry, Branwen.”

“Don’t be.” Branwen drained his cup in a single gulp, hoping that the heat of the tea would settle his stomach. “I can never forgive Oya for what she did, but my life there would have been a miserable one.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Calcifer said, “I’m sure your parents didn’t hate you. It sounds like you were born at an inopportune time, and they were unable to adequately care for you as such. That doesn’t mean they didn’t love you, though.”

Try as he might to suppress them, tears sprang unbidden into Branwen’s eyes. They fell into his empty cup in fat, silver drops, and Calcifer, seeing them, spread his arms in a welcoming gesture. The pair embraced. Branwen sniffled pitifully into his mate’s chest, and Calcifer ran his fingers through the witch’s wild ginger curls.

“You know I’ll never let anyone hurt you,” Calcifer whispered, “don’t you?”

Branwen nodded.

“We’re doing the right thing.”

Another nod.

“Once Ogun’s hearth is built, you’ll never have to speak to her again.” Calcifer’s grip tightened, his fingers clutching the back of Branwen’s shirt like a lifeline. “If she ever comes near you, I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Branwen asked with a snort. “Kill her? I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I’d do it,” Calcifer replied, “if it was for you.”

Heat rushed into Branwen’s cheeks. He forced his face deeper into Calcifer’s chest to hide it, but Calcifer knew by the twitching of his tail tip that he was flustered. So, before his mate could tease him, he blurted out, “We should get married!”

“Wh…?” Calcifer pushed him back to hold him at arm’s length. This, of course, exposed Branwen’s beet red face, which only flustered him further. “What did you say?” Calcifer managed to wheeze. “I think I misheard you.”

“We should get married!” Branwen repeated. “This Flameforger’s, we should do it!”

For a moment, he was certain Calcifer would reject him. They had been together for two cycles and readily called one another mates, but weddings were official business. In the eyes of their Patron, marriage would bind them eternally. It was a lot to ask, perhaps too much. In fact, Calcifer deserved better. Branwen was hot-tempered, and socially inept, and pessimistic to a fault. That settled it. He would pass it off as a joke, and they would go back to their comfortable, uncomplicated mateship.

Then Calcifer broke into a tearful smile, and all of Branwen’s doubts shriveled and died.

“Yes,” he said, “let’s do it!”

[doramaditor]

Forever and forever Let's stay here Nowhere's nowhere I don't want to go.

[depresseddepot]

I didn't feed my sourdough starter for over a month (depression) and thought that he was dead but I fed him today and he bubbled up just like normal!!!

[shellbound-hellhound]

In an alternate universe calcifer is mikey's fire demon and I stand by that

[plaguerare]

🗺️

[hmcbook]

WEED KILLER WINS. The ultimate triumph of romance!! The peak if you will. Sophie realizes she has fallen for Howl and gets so angry she tries to kill him with weed killer!! Your OTP could never imagine being this iconic. Acts of disservice as a love language. Let's celebrate the rightful win of the best Howl x Sophie moment. :') <3

[nadiajustbe]

Underrated HMC moments I've never seen anyone talking about part 2

Howl choosing "H. Jenkins" for the shop's sign wich is the one and only moment in the series he actually uses his legal initials, as "H" can stand for "Howl" and "Howell" in the same time

Lettie being so angry about Prince Justin calling her "a sweet lady" that she said that she would prefer ever Howl over him. Wich is. Telling.

The King assuring that he never pushed Justin off and that everyone who knows them both wouldn't assume that.

Sophie being so RAGED with the whole weedkiller and daffodils situation she wasn't saying A SINGLE FULL WORD for about a page in the least. All of the sounds were like "argh!" and "Sophie gave the wordless glump of range"

The seven-league boots having the funniest description of use ever, as every time someone used it then the effects were simply narrated as "Zip!"

Howl raises the skull and quotes Hamlet directly to it, wich becomes a hundred times funnier when you remember that this Skull is canonically and ironically the only "person" in the room who can understand the reference.

Howl saying "Denmark" in the same sentence. And, again, they're in a fairly tale fantasy word. Sophie has absolutely no clue what to hell is Denmark. For Howl this is the basic knowledge of elementary school level.

Poor Percival being almost KILLED for transforming in the middle of a valley because people thought he's a WEREWOLF.

Poor Percival being STROKED with information of him being made of part of two other people right after experiencing heavy trauma, beheading, physical damages, not really well-planed adopting and moving a house.

Percival describing laying on the shelf and looking at the other parts of himself. What a lovely kids book.

Sophie accidentally making cayenne pepper magical. She would make a great seller-witch career because she doesn't need to know the spell in order to make. She takes random powder. She says it will do the duel fair. It makes the duel fare by making an opponent sneezing uncontrollable (wich is also just a way cayenne pepper affects people lmao)

Sophie's first thoughts after she heard that Howl is leaving the black door knob where it is being "Of course! There's miss. Angorian!'. Sophie, dear, he has a family out there.

Michael, apparently, hiding the money under the same brick Sophie will soon describe in CITA as "the brick where we're hiding money from Howl"

Miss Angorian and Howl acting like the spell in a modern Wales is the most normal thing ever. "That's a spell!!" "Oh yeah of course I suspected that"

“Didn’t know I used to fly up the wing for my university, did you, Mrs. Nose?” “If you were trying to fly, you must have forgotten how,” aka Sophie absolutely not understanding modern world sport terminology

Drunk Howell trying to get through the door MULTIPLE times, bumping on it before "discovering" the door

Calcifer "taking" that huge mention they lived (and almost never visited) in without buying it. It was literally said the owner is just Not Here.

Sophie loosing an acces to her own room. Wich must be really sad.

Witch of the Waste leaning on a swing when literally capturing Howl's family

Additionaly: Howl canonically NOT altering his clothes while rushing to save his family. He was running around in a long-sleeved medieval closes on a welsh playground

Sophie and miss Angorian having a whole fight over the guitar pulling it back and forward while it was making horrible sounds

Sophie literally pushing miss. Angorian off the house using the said guitar

Howl immediatly reacting when someone mentioned that the star Michael tried to catch looks sad.

Scarecrow literally running around with parts of Justin's body on its sticky shoulders for eighty percent of the book's finale

Howl saying he could be "the evil fairy at his own christening" which is probably a reference to the "Sleeping Beaty". Also. rises a question: did Howl HAD a christening. There's a huge chance he actually did.

Ben and Justin just. smiling at each other for enough amount of time for Sophie's narrative to say "If she had paid any attention she would see them". Am I interuppting something???

Lettie hating Howl's courting SO MUCH she asked Percival to bite him several times.

Additionally: Ben apologising to Howl for trying to bite him. That's also probably first time they're interacting

Howl ignoring all of it because sOPHIE HATTER

[bittersweet-jack-of-no-trades]

Mabel, of course, is a huge Studio Ghibli fan (Dipper is too but he's at that age where he thinks they're a little too "girly" despite their strong anti-war themes and sometimes violent scenes, he'll get over himself in a year or two). Her favorite is Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind because she likes how the bugs end up being the 'good guys' at the end (and the theme of environmental justice). Dipper, when he's forced to answer, says it's Princess Mononoke because of the cool action scenes and the fighting--- in reality it's his second favorite, his favorite is actually Ponyo. Stan loves Spirited Away because he thinks he could absolutely run that bathhouse and be damned good at it (he also related just a little too much to No Face, but he doesn't tell the kids that). Ford and Mabel binge watch all of them over the course of a week shortly after Weirdmegeddon while eating glittery snacks, in between reconstructing the shack and building the Stan o' War II. His favorite is Howl's Moving Castle.

For summerween, he, with the help of Fiddleford, outfits the Mystery Shack to look like the Castle (not quite as violent as the mech they made it into to fight Bill). Soos and Melody dress up as Howl and Sophie. They make Waddles Calcifer by painting him blue. (Somewhere deep in The Theraprism, Bill gets jealous.) They do scare a lot of children by stomping around town in a house with legs. Stan laughs. A lot.

(Bonus: Soos' favorite is The Wind Rises, he cries every. single. time. Wendy likes My Neighbor Totoro. They all go see the Boy and the Heron when it comes out; Ford can barely watch it because the parakeets' kingdom looks just like a universe he was trapped in for a terrible, terrible eight months. Ford and Stan do find a Ponyo-like creature while sailing the Indo-Pacific; Ford wants to capture it to show the kids and Stan has to stop him.)

[thinkingfandoms]

An accurate list of the best movies I've ever seen

This list also includes reasons that are all too objective and nonsensical. Avoid asking too many questions. And share what you think in the comments!

Hercules

Hercules is probably my favourite Disney movie. And I also think that's where my interest in Greek mythology started. Hades is my favorite villain from this company and he's such a mood.

The Prince of Egypt

Oh dear you don't know how much I love this movie. I know every song by heart and was lucky enough to sing them with my choir. I'm a big fan of animation and despite how old is this movie, I think it remains one of the best ever produced. I cried more times over this movie than over all the others on this list combined.

Friends & Family

I only discovered this film this year but it quickly became one of my favorites. I have never laughed for so many consecutive minutes at a movie. I approached it because it's unusual to see a gay mob-themed movie, but I immediately fell in love with all the characters and the final scene remains one of the most comic I have ever seen.

Treasure Planet

I have a soft spot for animated films about great adventures and self-discovery. Jim has been my only animated crush for years, and his story has always resonated with something inside of me (maybe the desire for adventure and his recklessness, idk). Plus, of course, "'I'm Still Here" is one of the most beautiful soundtracks ever created.

Howl's Moving Castle

One of the first films I saw by Studio Ghibli and my absolute favourite. The love stories created by this Studio are always wonderful, and this one is no different. Plus I always saw myself in Sophie (especially about the crush on Howl) and, well, there's Calcifer, what more do you want?

Les Choristes

Another thing I love: movies about music. It may be that I've been playing an instrument for years and singing in choirs, but I've always cried watching kids rediscover a new side of themselves through music and songs. And these songs are composition's masterpieces. I still remember them all by heart even though French isn't my native language.

A Christmas Carol

I'm slightly obsessed with this story, with Charles Dickens and with Christmas. I was born on Christmas Eve so you can imagine how close this theme is to my heart. I have seen several versions of this story though, and for some reason, this one remains my favourite. It may be that it's different from other more colourful versions and really shows the darkness behind the original story, idk.

How to Train Your Dragon

I literally grew up with this saga: I was 8 years old at the first film, 12 at the second and 17 at the third. I watched Hiccup grow up with me as a friend and Toothless as a fellow adventurer. I'll forever be grateful to Dreamworks for creating the best-animated saga that cinema has ever seen.

The Three Musketeers

This movie is so random that it's perfect. I watched it again recently (after like 8 years) and realized that maybe my daddy issues come from this movie: Luke Evans, Orlando Bloom and the freaking Mads Mikkelsen together, seriously? I'm not surprised it was one of my favourite movies growing up.

A Monster in Paris

The love I have for this film is enormous. I could never get over the beauty of the songs in it. The characters are so well written and Francœur will always be in my top animated characters. It's too amazing to be real.

Rise of the Guardians

I could talk for hours about this film and have not even touched the tip of the iceberg. I have an insane obsession with all the characters, starting with and especially Jack, my top animated crush for years. It's all so perfect that I don't see how people never nominate it when it comes to top animated movies.

The Hobbit

Again, I have serious problems with films about fantasy adventures. I have always preferred The Hobbit saga to its sequel because the story has always fascinated me more. And the main character especially: for me Bilbo >>>> Frodo. And then there's Thorin and Luke Evans. You know, daddy issues.

Mune: Guardian of the Moon

Another French animated movie, another obsession, another adventure, another animated character in my top. This is an example of how to do good animation. There isn't a colour out of place. The settings are authentic, the characters are original, and the adventure they make gets me every time.

Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them

I'm maybe a Muggle, but I prefer Fantastic Beasts to the Harry Potter saga. That's not to say it's better, mind you, but it reflects me more. We all know how we Hufflepuffs (and Ravenclaws) have no real representation in the HP movies, so to be able to have at least one prequel saga starring a Hufflepuff (in which I also find myself far too much) as the protagonist is wonderful. And I have an unhealthy urge to become a magizoologist.

The Greatest Showman

It's the movie I have watched the most of these. I know every song by heart and every line too. It always manages to be a roller coaster of emotions. And it has Hugh Jackman in it.

The Boy Foretold By The Stars

I'm a big supporter of the Philippine's film company. This is one movie is gentle, funny, and not based on the usual drama between Christianity and LGBT+ people (which is what I thought when reading the plot at first). Moreover, another underrated thing, the Philippines' music company here has thrown in masterpiece after masterpiece of songs, perfect for this movie.

Bros

This is my top comfort film in the last year. It's like watching a Hallmark movie but hotter, much more sincere and gay. Very gay. And the relationship between the two main characters is so cute and sweet. And funny.

Top Gun: Maverick

I love this saga but especially love this particular chapter. I love Maverick and his relationship with Rooster, and all the other characters are so well-written. And don't get me started on the story... I LOVE it. There isn't much else to say except that Cruise is a great actor (and a terrible person).

Glass Onion - Knives Out

I love my silly little gay detective. And I have a little passion for movies and mystery series. I found this saga's chapter more compelling than the first one, and the characters gripped me more. Also I fell in love with the setting. Oh and then there are Daniel Craig and Hugh Grant.

[vinegar-on-main]

@soup-for-ghosts

"Lifting the Veil" - By Yasunori Nishiki

[paintaverse5]

Howl's Moving Castle

by: fountain_of_joy

Rising Action: - The Curse: The story begins with Sophie, a young hat maker, cursed with old age by the Witch of the Waste. She flees her home and encounters Howl, a mysterious and powerful wizard, who offers her a job as a cleaning lady in his moving castle. - The Moving Castle: Sophie's journey into the moving castle marks the beginning of her transformation. She encounters a cast of characters, including the fire demon Calcifer, who help her to understand the true nature of magic and the power of love. - The War: The war between the kingdom and the neighboring country intensifies, forcing Sophie and Howl to confront their own roles in the conflict. They must navigate the complexities of war and the dangers of power. - The Witch's Revenge: The Witch of the Waste, driven by jealousy and anger, seeks revenge on Howl and Sophie, creating obstacles and dangers that threaten their lives and their relationship. - The Search for Truth: Sophie begins to unravel the secrets of Howl's past, discovering the reasons for his hidden identity and the true nature of his magic. She also learns about the Witch of the Waste's motivations and the consequences of her curse. Climax: - The Confrontation: Sophie and Howl confront the Witch of the Waste in a dramatic battle that tests their powers and their resolve. This confrontation often involves a magical duel, a struggle for control, or a desperate attempt to break the curse. - The Revelation: During the climax, a crucial truth is revealed, often about the nature of the curse, the origins of Howl's magic, or the Witch of the Waste's true intentions. This revelation changes the game and forces Sophie to make a difficult choice. - The Sacrifice: Sophie makes a sacrifice, often involving a personal loss or a moment of selflessness, to protect Howl and to break the curse. This act of love and courage demonstrates the true power of her character. Falling Action: - The Undoing of the Curse: The climax leads to a reversal of the curse, often with a twist of fate or a magical intervention. Sophie's true beauty is revealed, and she reclaims her youthful appearance. - The Resolution: Sophie and Howl, having overcome their challenges, find happiness and acceptance. They embrace their love and build a future together, free from the constraints of war and prejudice. - The Message of Hope: The story concludes with a message of hope and redemption, demonstrating the power of love, courage, and self-acceptance. The ending often suggests that even in the darkest of times, there is always a reason to believe in the power of good.

[itmeansiris]

If you get this, answer with three random facts about yourself and send it to the last seven blogs in your notifs. Anon or not, doesn’t matter, let’s get to know the person behind the blog! 🩷

Thank you @dreamyyesenia. I got one before but I lost it. Okay 3 facts.

I love to read! Specifically about the Fantasy. I personally love any book that feature the Fae, Witches/ wizards, and magic of any kind.

When I'm not playing Sims I'm playing Monster Hunter Rise! Yes the more violent side to my gaming. But i guess i consider myself a gamer in general. (Smash bros, Harvest Moon, Pokemon, Zelda, etc)

I love to seasonal decorate. Any season or holiday is a perfect excuse to buy new bedspreads put up window clings and change the oven mitts over the stove (not for use)

(This one was extra because of the over mitts) I LOVE STUDIO GHIBLI. The oven mitts over my stove currently are of Calcifer "may all your bacon burn". I also have a pancake pan with Calcifers face! 2 posters of Howl and Sophie. A hand painted canvas made by a friend a deck of Kiki cards a Gigi in the cage music box and who knows what else!!!

Sorry the last one got pretty long.

[nullmocn]

⸺ ⟳  # 𝐍𝐔𝐋𝐋𝐌𝐎𝐂𝐍 ⋯ a  study of a tale that unfurls, woven in sorrow’s delicate threads: the ache of being cast aside when youth still cradled innocence. The bitter fracture of losing a sibling, a bond severed by the reckless hunger of teenage yearning. Of grief swelling, unrelenting. A child lost in the very sanctuary promised as home, now a ruin of splinters and ash. Where guilt blooms like a thorned vine, pointing its jagged edges inward. The weight of abandonment turning feet restless, a journey begins — to become a soldier, to craft meaning from loss, to mend the wounds left in the wake of love unspoken but deeply felt.

With every breath, the mission grows clearer: to rescue the broken, to save the stranded. To lay balm on past wounds, and rewrite a fate that once unraveled at the seams. It is the odyssey of a soul seeking redemption. A dance between loss and hope, where each step is both penance and grace.

Presently stationed at @helltownfms. Kindly refrain from further interaction unless aligned with the aforementioned group. Created and overseen by rei.

𝗖𝗢𝗡𝗦𝗜𝗗𝗘𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗩𝗘𝗥𝗬 𝗠𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗗𝗔𝗥𝗞 𝗡𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗘 𝗢𝗙 𝗛𝗘𝗥 𝗦𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗬, 𝗣𝗟𝗘𝗔𝗦𝗘 𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗖𝗘𝗘𝗗 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗖𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡.

⸻laysla de oliveira, thirty-two, cis-female, she / her ; ] … the photo on the missing poster is of PAZ MOSELEY-KAIUS. they are THIRTY-TWO, and have been missing for SIX MONTHS IN ARCADIA. when the sun rises, they work as FORMER RAPID RESPONSE FORCE ( RFF ) & UNDERCOVER AGENT / HUNTER. rumors in town say they can be RESTLESS and VERSATILE. they chose to live in THE RANCH, and have an uncanny resemblance to Vi ( Arcane ), Joe ( Special Ops: Lioness ), Sniper Wolf ( Metal Gear Solid ), Jill Valentine ( Resident Evil ), Martian ( The Agency ), Abby Anderson ( The Last of Us Part II ). can they survive another night ?…⸻ bitterness that paints her lips so completely she can’t even muster up an angry  scoff to punctuate all the things she thought she knew flipped upside down; So many daggers in her back that the shift of her shoulder blades among the many already plunged moves among kindred spirits; A weapon forged by man to quell distant foes and shadowed threats, she knows the sting of sweat upon her steel, the echoes of war’s primal cries, and the crimson truth etched into her unyielding hands.

INQUIRIES ;

How did your muse spend their first night in Arcadia, and where?

The shift is instant, a crack in time, just like Iraq — those days when the weight of the world pressed heavy on high-stakes missions overseas. Now, you’re in Arcadia, a place painted in twilight hues where shadows lengthen and townsfolk scatter, retreating to their homes as if the darkness itself carries fangs. The sheriff finds you first, eyes wild with urgency, her words sharper than the crisp evening air: “They’re coming.” You’re yanked into the station, doors slamming shut behind you. Calcifer, your steadfast pitbull, stays glued to your heels, his hackles raised, his unease a mirror to your own.

You can’t piece together how you landed here — or where here even is — but the air thrums with danger, a sensation etched into your bones after fourteen relentless years of training. Your instincts, honed to perfection, spring into action before thought can catch up. It’s what you do: assess, adapt, act. The station locks down; every door, every window sealed. Silence settles, thick and suffocating. Then, curiosity stirs — a stubborn ember refusing to die. Calcifer’s frantic barking drives you to the blinds, where you dare to peek.

What stares back chills you deeper than any enemy’s scope: a soldier’s face, one you know too well. A brother-in-arms, lost years ago to war’s cruel hand. Yet, his image twists, uncanny, his voice speaking your name with tones dipped in something not human. Your hand drifts to the glass, trembling, and the thing grins — a grin of too many teeth, a predator’s malicious smile. The shock sends you reeling as Calcifer growls low, his body taut like a drawn bowstring.

Night becomes a blur of questions, half-answers, and disbelief. You’ve stared into the eyes of the world’s most dangerous criminals, brought them to their knees without flinching. But this — this defies the rules of reality you once thought unshakable. When the sun finally rises, its light burns away none of the unease. You sit on the cold floor, Calcifer leaning against you, his presence a small anchor in this storm of the unknown. The dawn brings choices, each heavier than the last. Where do you stand in a place like this? A place that turns ghosts into predators and threats into riddles? The pit in your stomach stays, a constant companion, as you ready yourself for whatever Arcadia holds next.

Why did your muse choose to live where they do?

The Ranch called to you first, a haven of open skies and boundless land. The earth here felt alive beneath your boots, fertile and full of promise. The barn animals, with their soft eyes and simple rhythms, brought a rare kind of peace. And Calcifer — your shadow and your solace — thrived, bounding freely across the sprawling fields, matching your stride on morning runs that cleared your head as much as your lungs.

When Hunting didn’t demand your skill, you poured yourself into the Ranch’s quiet labors, hands busy with tasks that kept the past at bay. Fighting was the only thing you ever excelled at — what you were made for — but here, for a moment, you could be something softer, something closer to whole. Sometimes, your gaze drifts to the gas station on the edge of town, where Sterling lingers in his own storm of memories. You’d once considered staying there, thought maybe proximity could mend what words never could. But his simmering animosity — and the weight of your guilt for his disappearance, sudden and raw — stayed your steps. Time, you told yourself. Time to heal, if healing was ever meant for wounds like these. If it was even possible in a place like this.

What was your muse doing when they came across the tree?

It was during your usual evening run — ten miles of quiet solitude — when you stumbled across the tree. The trail was familiar, a stretch of empty road winding through the edges of town, a place where the world seemed to forget itself. Most days, it was just you, Calcifer, and the rhythm of your footsteps pounding against the earth. But this time, something was different. The tree stood like a sentinel, strange and battered, a wound in the landscape that tugged at your curiosity. You paused, crossing over to inspect it, and in that moment, the world shifted beneath your feet. No warning, no logic — just a sudden rupture, as if you’d been plucked from one existence and dropped into another.

You followed the path deeper into the forest, your mind churning to place these alien surroundings. The air smelled different, heavier, and the light played tricks among the trees. Calcifer’s steady presence at your side kept the unease from swallowing you whole, his quiet vigilance mirroring your own.

But everything changed when you emerged into the town. The tension in the air sharpened, survival instincts sparking like a live wire. Years of training roared to life in your veins, guiding your every breath and step. Whatever this place was, it wasn’t home. But then again, you’d never relied on the comfort of home to keep you alive.

Has your muse left anything behind that they are desperately trying to return to or escape?

You were thirteen when Sterling vanished, a hole torn into your world with no explanation and no closure. Months passed, endless investigations unraveling into nothing but dead ends. The home that had once saved you from the nightmare of foster care became its own battlefield of accusations and despair. Your adoptive parents, once your sanctuary, crumbled under the weight of loss, their grief turning sharp and jagged. They blamed each other, and eventually, they blamed even you. Guilt clawed its way inside you, deep and unrelenting. It whispered that all you had to do was be there — walk with him, watch over him — but you’d been too busy chasing the fleeting joys of adolescence. Friends, stolen kisses with girls in dark corners, the selfish freedom of youth. And Sterling? He’d been a distant thought, left to fend for himself in a world that swallowed him whole.

His room stayed frozen in time, unnervingly perfect, as if expecting his return. But when the search finally ended, the police offering grim theories of abduction and death, the illusion shattered. Your parents’ marriage dissolved soon after, fractured by infidelity and the unbearable grief of losing a child. For the first time, you felt the bitter edge of not belonging in the Kaius household.

Your father, broken and hollow, took custody of you after your mother left. He was a shell, barely able to care for himself, let alone you. He didn’t notice when you slipped out at night, seeking trouble to dull the ache. Didn’t care when officers dragged you home, bruised and bloodied from street fights that mirrored the chaos in your chest. To him, you were a shadow. A ghost. Not so different from Sterling — except you were still there. Still trying to be enough.

And now, two decades later, seeing Sterling again in Arcadia was like stepping into a dream you weren’t sure you wanted to wake from. Relief tangled with disbelief, a hard truth you couldn’t ignore. You’d built a life on saving others from threats you couldn’t protect him from, but his rejection sliced deeper than you thought possible. The malice in his eyes stole your composure, the weight of his unspoken blame a thunderstorm in your chest. You watched him from the edges of Arcadia, tracking his routes, studying the scars time and survival had etched into him. He was no longer the little boy you lost, but someone changed, hardened — a stranger in the shape of your brother.

You’ve seen death. Delivered it. Yet this — this distance, this estrangement — hurts in a way you don’t know how to fight. You wonder, in the quiet moments, if you’ll ever bridge the chasm between you. If he’ll ever look at you and see something more than failure. If you’ll ever know each other again. There was nothing to escape from now, but there was something to face.