#drew the thing on the right before i tried actually plotting out the designs

[czcreation]

Winter puts me in a really cool end of the world mood

[wlntrsldler]

how to disappear | luke castellan

warnings: betrayal, fluff, mean!luke for like five lines, extremely long, not canon, drug use and language, probably got some things wrong but it's for the plot; i sobbed writing this. (this might be my favorite piece i've ever written)

part 2: shades of cool

pairing: aphrodite!reader x luke

description: based on how to disappear by lana del rey

i. all of the guys tell me lies, but you don't. just crack another beer and pretend that you're still here.

"hey, angel," a voice startled you out of your thoughts. your feet were dangling over the pier as you stared out into the lake. you twisted your head to see luke approaching. a soft smile was on his face. "been looking for you everywhere."

"needed a breather," you said, scooting over so he could join you. "sometimes i forget how overwhelming being back here is."

he rolled his cargo pants up to his knees, letting the cool water touch his bare skin. "i get it. sometimes i wish i could take a break."

"you can, you know," you nudged his shoulder, "you're old enough to leave camp during the year. nobody would fault you for wanting to go away for a while."

he dug into his front pocket, pulling out a messily rolled joint and the pink lighter you gave him last summer. the heart you drew on the plastic with sharpie was starting to fade. he placed the joint between your eager lips and lit the end. he tried to ignore the sparks that shot up his arm when your fingertips brushed against his.

luke shrugged, "i know, but then who would take care of the kids? mr. d isn't really the model citizen."

you quirked an eyebrow, passing him the joint, "and you are?"

"better than mr. d," he let out a chuckle before taking a drag. luke closed his eyes as the smoke escaped his lips. he could taste your lipgloss. "maybe when you get your own place, i'll take some time off and visit you."

"i'm off to college soon," you said. "going to california. i got a scholarship."

"of course you did," he grinned. the weed didn't take effect yet. usually, when you smoked with luke, his brown eyes are hazed over by the effects, but while he was speaking, his eyes twinkled in pride. "didn't doubt it for a second."

"you'd leave camp and visit california for me?"

luke had a knowing smile on his face now, as if you were ridiculous for even asking that question. "'course. only problem would be that i'm broke as shit right now. being camp counselor doesn't really pay the big bucks, y'know."

you hummed. it was weird really, how camp was just a fraction of your life. your dad made sure that you could have a semi-normal life, or at least as normal as a half-blood's life could be, but not all demi-gods had the luxury, luke included. his dad made sure of it.

at first, luke despised you for it. why was it fair that you were your mom's favorite child while his dad barely cared enough to make sure he survived his failed quest? if aphrodite was his godly parent, he was sure that he wouldn't have this ugly scar on his face to remind him that he was nothing but a failure. she would stitch him up and make sure that he was okay.

this is not to say that luke liked any of the gods; he just preferred aphrodite above all of them. she gave you to the world, after all.

"what else is new?" he prodded, passing you the joint again after his third drag. "anything else exciting happen in your life since last summer?"

"nothing much," you coughed slightly. you didn't smoke unless you were at camp with luke. "just the usual senior year things, i guess. graduation, prom, you know."

"no, i don't know, actually," he laughed, "well, i know the idea of it. did you decorate your graduation cap? did your senior year live up to your expectations? did you have a date to prom?"

"yes, yes, and no." you pretended not to notice how luke's shoulders relaxed at your answer. "i did decorate my grad cap. my dad has it framed with my diploma. the design was my college's logo. i didn't have a date to prom because i didn't really like anyone at school. i would rather take a date i actually enjoyed the company of."

"that's fair," luke said. he took another hit from the joint. you watched the smoke evaporate into the air, the smell of weed surely sticking to your clothes. "tell me about your senior year."

"it was fun," you said, longing on your face. "it's weird to think that i'm kind of on my own now. after camp, i'll be shipped off across the country to take classes for some bullshit degree that i probably won't need because i won't make it long enough to see the workforce."

luke chuckled at that. it was morbid, sure, but he would be lying if he said that that reality wouldn't be a possibility. he didn't like to think about it much, the idea of you dying, but the life of a demi-god was unpredictable. he's surprised he even made it to eighteen.

you continued, "but i got to be a kid and i'm thankful for that. i just can't stop thinking about how this is my last summer here. i'm eighteen now. i've aged out."

"you can come back, you know," luke said. these summers with you were the only thing he looked forward to each year ever since you first arrived. "i'm still here."

"that's because if you step a toe out of this camp, they'll find you," you said, although you knew luke knew this already. he was powerful. he would attract monsters left and right and he'd be putting himself in jeopardy if he left. your suggestions for him to visit you were more wishful thinking than anything. in those moments, you let yourself pretend that you and luke were normal, that nobody would be trying to kill you if you tried to watch a movie at a theater or something.

"fair," he offered you the last hit, but you shook your head. you already felt your head spinning. "beth wants to go to college, too."

"does she?"

"yeah," he put out the joint on the wooden pier. neither of you spoke as the flame was extinguished with a sizzling sound. "told her to talk to you. you know more about it than i do."

"i'd love to talk to her. i think she'd do great in college."

"she would," he smiled, sadly. his eyebrows furrowed in thought. his mouth opened and closed a few times, like he was trying to find the right way to frame his words. you sat in silence patiently. he gulped, "i feel like everyone is moving on without me."

luke propped his elbows on his knees. he looked across the lake, watching the sunset turn into a pink horizon. he couldn't look at you while he spoke. "don't get me wrong, i'm so proud of you for leaving this place. and i'll be proud of annabeth when her time comes, but i think i just hate the fact that at the end of it all, i'll be alone. everyone in my life has a life outside of this, but i don't. this is it for me. i don't know what it is about this place, about this life, that keeps me stuck here, but i am."

you weren't stupid enough to correct him. you both knew the gods had a plan for luke. it was something bigger than the both of you, though neither of you truly knew what it was; but it was always this looming dark cloud above him, a second shoe waiting to drop. luke tried to ignore the feeling most days, but sometimes, he couldn't help but feel himself get pulled into the darkness; like in these moments, when reality hits him a little harder. you probably won't be back after this summer.

"well," you placed a hand over his own. he flipped his hand over to hold yours properly. he still wasn't looking at you. "let's just make the most out of this summer, yeah? think about everything else when we get there."

he squeezed your hand, "yeah."

ii. met me down at the training yard, cuts on his face cause he fought too hard.

"castellan."

luke winced, not because of the pain of the open cuts on his face, but because of the tone of your voice. that voice meant that he was in trouble.

he mustered up the courage to smile weakly at you, trying to ignore the droplets of blood that spilled from his open wound. "hey, angel."

"don't angel me," you hissed, marching to him. you grabbed his face gently, inspecting the damage. "what were you thinking?"

"i was thinking the kid was a bitch."

"castellan."

he cringed, "sorry."

"what happened?"

"i haven't been getting much sleep," luke whispered, "nightmares are back."

you sighed, picking up a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. the apollo kid who was tending to luke earlier was smart enough to leave the room when you walked in. you muttered half-hearted apologies as he hissed in pain. "i'm sorry to hear that, but that's not the answer i was looking for."

"he was just talking shit," luke said through gritted teeth. whatever the ares kid was saying must've been really bad because you could feel luke's anger rising again. you rubbed his back slowly until he calmed down. "don't wanna talk about it."

"okay," you resigned, finally wiping away the final remnants of blood off his face. you stared at him; even with an open lip, red bruises, and flecks of blood on his face, luke was still beautiful. he plopped his forehead against your stomach, wrapping his arms around you to pull you closer.

this was common with luke. he acted all big and bad around all the other campers, but in your presence, he turned into this; always looking for comfort, always touching you somehow, like he was finally allowed to breathe. you cradled the back of his neck as he let out shallow breaths, leaving feather-light kisses on his crown when you thought he wouldn't notice them. he always felt them, but he never let you know that he did. he was afraid you'd stop doing it if you found out.

"how bad are they?"

"bad," he sighed, eyes closing. he tugged on you to bring you even closer, though you didn't know how that was possible at this point. "haven't slept in days."

"why didn't you come find me?"

"your sisters don't like it when i interrupt their beauty sleep."

"why didn't you tell me sooner? i could've stayed in the hermes cabin."

"it's gross in there," he laughed. "you deserve to sleep on your soft bed in a cabin that smells like fucking roses, not on my cardboard thin cot in a room that smells like sweaty socks."

you lifted his head up to look at you, "yeah, it's pretty bad in there."

luke snorted, finally letting you go, but a hand stayed connected to your hip. he played with the loose thread on the hem of your shirt. "i still won, by the way."

you cocked your head, "huh?"

"the fight," luke's cocky smirk was back on his face. "you should see the other kid. if i'd been well-rested, he wouldn't have been able to land a blow."

you smacked his shoulder, laughing as you fell onto the bed beside him, "shut up, castellan."

"there it is," he mumbled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. he was so close to you.

"what?"

"castellan," he mimicked your voice, but there was no mockery there. he said it like he treasured it, like he was trying to memorize the way you spoke. "you're not mad at me anymore."

it was hard to stay mad at luke. the longest you'd gotten mad at him was when he didn't choose you for his quest. he stood outside the aphrodite cabin the entire day before he was set to leave, begging for you to let him explain. you were too stubborn, too hard-headed, to listen to him. when you were sure that he was gone, you finally left the aphrodite cabin to find a letter from him tucked away under the welcome mat.

you kept the letter, but you never opened it. it wasn't until he returned from his quest, on the brink of death, that you opened it. you were sitting beside his bed, eyebags darker than ever that even your mother couldn't salvage you. your eyes were stained red from crying so much.

in his letter, he explained how he didn't want to put you in danger, how he would never forgive himself if something bad happened to you because of him. your insecurities just got the better of you. you always feared that people saw you as shallow, like you didn't actually have the skills to fend for yourself. many people had misconceptions about the aphrodite kids, but not luke. luke knew that you were incredible. you just didn't resort to violence as quickly as he did.

you felt stupid then, even now, you regret how you treated him before his quest. you hated yourself for how you acted. he never gave you a reason to doubt him, to not trust him; you should've known that he had his reasons. you hated yourself for even questioning him for a second.

luke pulled you into his chest, allowing you to cuddle into his neck. the beads of his camp necklace rested beside your temple. you reached over to play with them, letting the beads thump against his collarbone when you let go. you felt luke twirling strands of your hair around his finger, gently undoing the knots that formed at the ends of your hair because of his antics. you lay there in silence, just enjoying the presence of one another. you felt luke's breathing even out, a sign that he was drifting off.

luke's words from the pier bounced in your head then. did he think that you'd forget about him after you left camp? as if you'd forget about this, about him. a life without luke castellan became unimaginable when you met him when you were fifteen. there was no version of your life that didn't have luke in it.

it was foolish to think that way, you knew that. it was stupid to let someone have a hold on you like this, demi-god or not. even your friends from home warned you about being so attached to luke, though in the version of events you told them, the stakes were much lower. to them, he was just a boy you see at summer camp a few months out of the year; he was just another hometown boy that they urged you to forget when you moved away to college so you could live your life unrestricted.

but luke wasn't just that to you and you knew you weren't just that to him either. there was something between the two of you that was hard to explain, but didn't need an explanation at the same time. even your mom noticed it. she let you know once to tell luke to stop praying to her to give you a sign whenever he missed you.

"i can't keep making flowers bloom whenever he misses you," she wrote, "it wouldn't make much sense for flowers to bloom in the winter, my child, or for flowers to bloom every second of the day."

sometimes, though, on particularly hard days when you'd miss luke, your mom made exceptions. you'd find bunches of hibiscus growing within the cracks of the sidewalk of new york city on your way home from school.

you knew luke was thinking about you then. just the thought of it made your day better.

iii. i know he's in over his head, but i love that man, like nobody can. he moves mountains and pounds them to ground again.

luke didn't know what you'd say if you found out. well, he did know, but he deluded himself into thinking that you'd listen to his reasons, that you'd actually understand why he did what he had to do. maybe you'd even join him.

percy had left camp with annabeth and grover for his quest yesterday. the air at camp felt different since percy was revealed to be a forbidden child. luke, as much as he tried to keep his resentment for the gods at bay because percy was hard to dislike, the poor kid just wanted to save his mom, felt his blood boil when poseidon claimed percy.

he hated the gods, this wasn't new, but luke struggled to understand how he was supposed to feel. he saw so much of himself in percy. he thought of his mother; her hugs that he hadn't felt since he was nine, the taste of her burnt cookies that he hated at the time, but now he just wished he could taste the burnt crisps on his tongue one last time. he even missed her frantic mumbling in the middle of the night.

luke saw a version of himself in percy, the version that had a chance at happiness. luke hated it.

it was too late, anyway. the plan was already in motion. his allegiance to kronos was set. kronos visited him in his dreams often. luke stopped calling them nightmares because nightmares are only nightmares if they happen once in a while. what made them bad dreams was when they were compared to good ones. he didn't have those anymore.

luke hadn't slept much since he stole the bolt. it was easier to think about you, about the happy times, when he was awake. he smoked more now. it helped sometimes. he would pretend your lipgloss was still on the tip of the joint and that you were beside him on the pier, trying to get away from all the noise of camp.

as he walked toward the hermes cabin, smiling cordially at the younger campers who beamed at him, he saw the corner of a pink bag against his bed. his face dropped. luke stopped in his tracks, clutching the beads of his necklace.

you weren't facing the door. your back was turned while you folded the sheets on his bed. he saw you spray perfume on his blankets. he could almost smell the sweet fragrance from where he stood. it took all his might not to run to you and hold you in his arms. it's been months since he last saw you, since last summer. luke's hands fell to his sides before he twisted his body to turn the other way.

he went to the one place that gave him comfort. with his cargo pants rolled up to his knees, he watched the sun fade into the dark sky. there was no pretty sunset tonight. luke didn't think too much of omens, but he figured that was a bad sign. and when your soft footsteps thumped against the boards of the pier, he was certain that it was.

"you damn near running away from me when you saw me was not the reaction i was hoping for."

luke closed his eyes and took a deep breath. out of habit, he moved a bit to let you take your usual spot beside him. when he opened his eyes, he was met with the face he'd thought about for months. a kind smile adorned your lips. you looked different. your skin was a deeper shade, no doubt due to the california sun; your lips were pink and torn apart, like you'd been chewing on them; but your smile was the same.

"what are you doing here?"

"sorry i was late," you said, sheepishly. you played with the small braid in your hair, "i had to move out of my dorm so i had to take a later flight."

"i thought you weren't coming back," luke replied.

"heard there's a war coming," your voice sounded small. luke knew why. he'd listened to you talk about the dreams you had for yourself for hours over the past summers. the idea of an impending war meant that those dreams would take the backseat and you'd have to fight before any of them could come true. "is it true?"

"percy, a forbidden kid, poseidon's, is trying to make sure it doesn't happen."

"do you trust him?"

luke felt his heart crumble in his chest. how cruel is he to keep you in the dark like this? when the only thing you needed to feel okay was to hear that he trusted the kid meant to stop the war?

luke's voice was hoarse, "yeah, i do. beth does too."

"okay," you placed a hand on his thigh. luke stiffened at your touch. you pulled away, embarrassed. "sorry."

"don't apologize," he placed his hand next to yours. he could feel the warmth of your skin. "i've just been on edge."

"it's just me, luke."

he didn't know how to tell you that that's exactly why he was on edge. it was you. the girl he'd been in love with since he was fifteen. the girl he told everything to. the girl who knew him so well that if you were to touch him for longer than a second, you'd know everything.

this summer, for the first time since he met you, he was glad you didn't show up to camp. he knew that the minute you were in front of him, he'd tell you everything and there was a chance you'd want nothing to do with him after it. that was something luke couldn't handle. but now you're here, looking at him like this like his actions just hurt you.

"'m sorry, angel."

"you're acting different, luke."

"'m sorry."

"i don't need an apology," you said. "i want to know why."

luke rubbed his face with his hands, "i don't know, okay?"

"you're lying to me," you were frowning now. luke was angry. he wasn't angry at you, he was angry at the whole situation, but it didn't matter. he was taking it out on you.

"gods, angel, can you just-- not right now," he groaned. you got a good look at him. his eyes were tired, shoulders slumped like he'd been carrying a weight on his shoulders with no reprieve. "i don't really feel like talking."

"you don't have to be mean about it."

he didn't feel like himself anymore. he would never talk to you like this, but there was something in him that made him snap. luke scoffed, "i'm not being mean, you're just being so pushy right now."

you blinked, pulling your hand away from his. shivers ran down your spine, "luke, what the fuck?"

"what?" he stood up. you followed suit. under the moonlight, you saw how dull his brown eyes were. they no longer carried the same glow when he looked at you. luke's eyebrows were furrowed, eyes narrowed, "i just can't handle this right now, okay? can you just drop it?"

"i'm just trying to talk to you!" you raised your voice, disbelief on your features. you walked towards him. holding his face in your hands. he was crying. you wiped away his tears. "i just missed you, okay? i just wanna talk to you because i haven't gotten to in months and i'm miserable."

he let out a shaky breath, your touch grounding him. he felt himself coming back to him. he nuzzled his cheek in your palm, kissing the flesh there as he mumbled apologies into the night.

"i missed you so much," a sob escaped your lips. luke didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around you, continuing his train of apologies into your ear. you continued, "i-i thought that you'd be happy to see me because i've been counting down the days until i saw you again and i just thought that even though the world was falling apart, we'd be the same. it's always been us, you know?"

"i know."

"and then you avoid me and run away from me and i just needed to see you, luke. i needed to talk to you."

"i missed you, too," he confessed. "so much, you have no idea."

"you have a funny way of showing it," you joked through your tears.

luke laughed. it shocked him. it was like he had forgotten how to. he hiccuped, removing one hand from around you to rub the tears away from his eyes, "come on."

selfishly, he ignored the pit in his stomach. he allowed himself just one more day to have you like this. as he lay on his bed, he held you close to him. he was overwhelmed with how much you filled his senses; the smell of your perfume, the feeling of your lips ghosting on his chest as you told him nonsense stories from college, the sound of your quiet giggles when he made some stupid joke, the look on your face in the dark, staring at him.

an unfamiliar feeling took over his body, rest, he realized it was, a while into lying in the darkness with you.

"i love you, you know that, right?"

luke didn't trust his voice anymore. he pulled you closer, hoping that that was enough for now.

iv. think about those years as i whisper in your ear. i'm always going to be right here.

"i love you."

you turned your head at the sound of luke's voice. camp was in disarray. percy was badly hurt and annabeth was frantic, sobbing about how luke was behind it all. you ran away after hearing it.

you didn't want to believe it, but it was annabeth. she wouldn't say that about luke unless it was true. you knew it killed her just the same to accept it.

"what are you doing here, castellan?"

it felt like a dagger was plunged into luke's heart. he'd heard his name leave your lips in different ways over the years; jokingly, angrily, but never like this. disappointment.

"i couldn't leave without telling you," luke licked his lips, keeping his distance. he was pressing his shirt on the spot percy broke skin. he looked down at his feet, "couldn't leave without letting you know that i love you."

"why did you do it?"

"i don't know."

"okay," you walked towards him. "when did you get so comfortable with lying to me?"

"angel," he sounded broken. "please, don't do this."

"you were wrong, by the way," you said. "you're not stuck here anymore, but i don't think the place you'll end up in is any better than this."

luke was silent.

"go, luke," you whispered. "don't make it any worse than it already is."

he nodded. this was it. you watched as he disappeared into the dark.

you were too preoccupied with your thoughts to notice it then; your mind was plagued with worry, but in the gaps of the wooden pier, a single hibiscus flower bloomed under your feet.

[sillyandquiteawkward]

:333 can I hear the design process that went into Ford? Or Tate?

Or if it was for Fallout OCs, curious on the Kennedy or Bayley “Concept Idea to Current” transition :>>>

<- had too much fun, did everyone mentioned.

oo so when it came to ford and tate, i had a general idea pretty strong from the get go, so there wasnt much exploration, and i wrote general notes i wanted to include in their designs and then kinda just went for it. in my notes and story plotting they were simply referred to as the waiter and the PI.

these are basically the first iterations for them, tho tate took me a while to figure out. tate was also skinnier but then i was like no i need to design with my Heart so i made him more stout instead just a simple tall guy with a dadbod body type. i just always ended up liking how ford turned out so he didnt have many changes (notably it ends up being just his hairstyle).

once i got the gist of the characters down i went back and started looking up clothes and pulling ref images to really hone in on their sense of style and fashion, since that was something for this comic i really wanted to portray. then i went back and drew a bunch of drawings of them in different outfits and tried to figure things out. like tate evolved from trenchcoat and jumpsuits to more simple things like tshirts and jackets.

i made the control meme. and then. i put them on the back burner as i did other things for months. and when the new year hit, i ran to start drawing them again to start the comic on a whim, and did the simple, draw what you remember and see whats the most important character traits. i think i wouldve liked to have more time to really iron more things out before i jumped into the comic but i feared being stuck in planning hell and never being able to Start.

--

kennedy is a fun one bc i designed him to be a matching cowboy oc pair with raynersjournal and an overall group of four. simply the concept idea for kennedy was red badboy cowboy twink. another kind of design i did in one based on vibes and probably google images of cowboys for clothes insp. i am a little foggy on my thought process for designing ken but that was pretty much it. one and done type guy. i think i was feeling particularly inspired by funky eyebrows and giant sharp nose shapes.

i think kennedy has been pretty consistent in characterization, but i think i tend to draw kennedy less boxy now, and ive smoothed him out because ive shaped him more into this devious snake oil kind of guy that looks sweet, instead of this whirlwind fireball. for a second, i stopped drawing kennedy with his square jawline, but ive been trying to make sure i remember to draw it bc i think its a good trait of his that makes for nice contrast in his feminine design.

--

bayley is Also interesting bc he had several pre-designs which is different for me. the concept of bayley being a fucked up scientist to be the antagonist for cc's story was first inspired by one of my goretober prompts, where a unknown scientist was attempting to vivisect hancock. his design was very minimal and more of an after thought.

after that came me trying to come up with a story and a scientist for cc to Have his third arm from. then i tried to doodle some scientist design with that inspiration from mr. goretober and came up with this guy.

but i didnt like him! i didnt think it was the right type of dynamic Look and i wasnt in love with the design so i tried again when i went to actually make ccs into comic. which is where we get this guy who looks More like bayley, but without the sideburns.

his sideburns grow as time goes on, longer and longer, until i start drawing them Bushy and big and the rest is history, i think i was inspired actually by how ray drew them one time and i just took it and ran. another bayley off shoot is evil bayley who channels mr goretober in his rancid vibes, while looking like regular bayley, bc i love au clones.

[kruinka]

tell us more abt ur romfan au 😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

omg than k u for enabling me so. this is what i want to draw

-isagi kicking ass (comically) -first meeting kaiser sae rin nagi -full body designs kaiser sae rin nagi isagi -shirayukimiya and the seven dwarves -individual kaiser sae rin nagi -kurona isagi hiori nanase besties REAL -kaiser backstory comic -sae pre angst -sae intimidating -crying rin -rin pre angst

but i feel like u are here for the kaiser lore instead so

sorry if nothing makes sense😭

in my silly little brain there is kaiser angst and his father is the pope (thanks mitzi) -kaiser but hes more fake and more bastard than canon the setting is divine power does not do well with magic ESPECIALLY in this nation bc it is a blessed land (real not clickbait) -the royal familys defining trait?? is golden hair that never fades and every 20 years someone with this golden blood will be blessed with stigmata -stigmata in this case means the deity of this land has chosen u to be the next ruler -so breaking news!! kaiser does not have stigmata he only has social stigma bc his mother was a naive witch that fell in love with the king -he still has the golden hair but its also "tainted" with blue from the bloodline of a witch so the hair colours are all natural babie🤩🤩🤩 -anyways his mom thought they would be fine if they just lived quietly in a corner of the palace but nope she dies lol -cue evil queen who does not like the concubine so she plots an assassination -michael kaiser, age 6, motherless -idk how to go deeper into explaining his backstory but i do have an image in my head that i feel like would be better if i drew it out instead -but ofc kaisers world view is now flipped -living quietly and hoping for peace doesnt work so he will live as if he were dead while plotting his grand murder spree -and also two years before the family die kill murder -one of his half siblings received a stigmata -but kaiser kills him anyways bc how would u keep ur faith when all ur life u have been mistreated by those who call themselves children of god -and then the stigmata appears on him and hes just 😟😟 -after claiming the throne he kicks out a bunch of ppl and starts establishing diplomatic connections with the magic tower (cue ness) -bc it is very obvious that its a good thing. to establish connections. but holy kingdom vatican city here doesnt do that bc they are held back by traditions and bias -so after that hes just known as a blasphemous child sitting on the throne -but theres a party of intellectuals and new nobles who support him so like kaisers not dead YET -stuff is messy, his bad rep spreads and rumours get twisted so now hes not only known as Tyrant Who Scammed God (partly real) -hes also somehow a Sadistic Villain That Hypnotizes You With Magic (also partly real)

now in the main story hes all 🤪😏😏but thats how he acts when there is something he wants (scammer mode) -deep down hes 😐😔😠emo irritated and thinks hes a bad person (he is a bad person) -he probably does feel guilty for killing his father and not being able to protect his mother -and like tries to convince himself that what he did was right but sometimes he thinks of his mother and wonders if this is what she wouldve wanted :/ -and sometimes he doubts his ability as a ruler bc his half sibling was the chosen one and not him -being compared to and discriminated throughout ur whole life does something to a man huh -so the insecurities and jealousy issues still apply🫶 -but he is actually quite capable bc what else would u do in ur free time other than study -if u were stuck in the palace and ur mom is dead and ur father is pathetic -i want kaisers character arc to be him actually having a proper meltdown now that his life is no longer Constantly In Danger -and at the end of the arc he finally feels happy to be here something something i havent thought of this part yet

ok so this is very long and its still just kaiser and idek if anything makes sense but i also have stuff for rin and sae and isagi going on in my head

idk if the old romfan rant i posted can still apply to the au thats in my head bc i changed some roles around

[get-your-fuckin-star-bitch]

[unwinding au] - season 3, part ?????

Aaaaaaaaagh i feel like I’m missing something what is it what am I

OHHHHHHHH

Michael didn’t get out of the institute using the mirrors, he doesn’t like using the mirrors (at all)-

He took the tunnels. He had no idea where he was going, but he took em anyway, cause he figured he had the best chance at finding the right way through.

He actually also took the tape recorder that was there, I was wrong. He didn’t want anyone to find out what he’d done (they sort of did anyway :( ) and also it had just become a “comfort item” at that point.

He sort of feels the same way about the recorders as Martin does, but also feels like they give him a sort of anchor to steady himself with so he can keep himself together.

[CONTINUED BELOW!!!!]

I really wish I could find some good maps of London so that I could plot out his course, but he tries going to his own apartment initially, only to find it surrounded by police/law enforcement.

So he feels very much like he’s got nowhere to go.

For the first time, he wishes he could just loose himself in a crowd and find himself somewhere else.

He’s just… too tall for it. He’s worried he’d just get spotted immediately.

But it turns out that doesn’t matter anymore. It’s as if no one can really see him, or at least can’t pick him out from the rest of the crowd. Which, by the way, is really uncomfortably bump-y and jostle-y, and he hates it just as much as he used to, but it works.

Not just to hide him, but to get him to where he’s going.

Somehow, he finds himself inside of a department store.

uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh so I decided it’s probably either Peter Jones or Harrods… but……

How tf do UK department stores work

help

Ummmmm heck it’s fine I’ll just wing it and revise later, at least i’ve got a vibe

So, Peter Jones and partners, runs into someone he knew before the institute.

I don’t know her name, but she’s pretty and a fantastic person and I tried to draw her one time but I don’t feel like it came out quite right, however I’m still going to drop it here.

(Uuuuugghhhhhhhh yeah there’s a lot I don’t like about how I drew this, I don’t feel like I got her features right and I wish I could go back and change it but it’s PENCIL and erasing/redrawing is ANNOYING aaaaaa /lh)

(I’m actually not going to insert the drawing. I just feel like it’s probably wrong in a hundred different ways, and I’d like to research some stuff further first before I make a finalized design.)

She and Michael talk a little bit, her manager comes over and does the whole “you’re paid to sell things to customers, not chat with them,” thing and Michael actually glares at him!

Yasmin(a?) (this is why i want to do more research, I don’t feel like that’s right aaaaaa) is completely taken aback by this, because the Michael Shelley she’d grown up with had barely ever glared at someone in this sort of a situation.

Michael was a tiny bit surprised by it, too, but fuck it- he was fed up, tired, on the run, possibly turning into a monster, and this clerk was being completely unreasonable (in his opinion). He was having a bad day and hadn’t seen his friend in years, couldn’t he just leave them alone?

Apparently not. The manager was getting very disgruntled, and curtly acknowledged him with a steely-eyed stare, and told him that if he wanted to make a fuss over the store’s management rules, he should leave the department and go speak with the (police? Upper management? Idk).

And thus a small standoff occurs. I’m honestly impressed that the manager could remain rigid in his stance with this tall guy basically looming over him, but by god he did- and then the usual thing of “I’m going to call the cops.”

And naturally, Michael gets both upset and a bit panicked.

The guy turns away to call someone on his phone, then notices some strange movement out of the corner of his eye and turns around to see Michael, looking… definitely different from how he did before.

He’s trying hard not to look at his friend, cause he feels like if he does, he’ll scare her, but the manager is staring right at him, into his twisting face, and screams after taking a few moments to register what’s going on.

And then Michael leaves.

——————

The police get there far too late to catch him exiting the building, and naturally, daisy is a little more than a bit miffed by this.

He’s just glad he could get away at all. He’s actually unaware that the police are following him.

Thing is, he didn’t actually even hurt anyone, he just scared the manager and ran away. Supposedly, no actual harm done, (the manager’s now marked but Michael doesn’t need to know that 🫠), so the police leave.

He considers checking in to a hotel or something, but… it feels like it’s too… risky.

So he just… sleeps wherever.

It’s awful.

His friend’s probably trying to figure out where he went, just so she can understand what the heck’s going on and why the police are trying to find him, cause last she heard, he was working at the infamous “Magnus Institute”, which, as far as she understands it, is essentially a fucked-up library of weird things. So maybe things had gotten a little too weird for him, or he’d just been some kind of serial-whatever this entire time. They hadn’t even explained the situation to her when they’d questioned her about him. She fully thought she was going to be arrested as an accomplice or something, which would have been awful, but apparently all they cared about was getting him.

And she kind of wanted to know why.

I mean- look. Scaring someone’s manager with a gun or blackmail or something is one thing. But with just a look? That stuff was not normal, she knew it wasn’t, and he was gonna have to spill everything to her.

Once she could find him, at least.

She took a few days off from work to wander around and see if she could look for him in… the shops, maybe, or nearby apartments. But nothing came up. No sandy-blond-haired skinny tall bastards in the directory, or around there anywhere. (Sounded like she was ordering Starbucks or something every time she asked around about him.)

She nearly tripped over him when she was passing through (insert place name here, I really need to get a map or else I’m just going to end up playing mad libs with location names for this, lmao).

She had been trying to find a bar she thought he might be relatively more comfortable at than the others in the area. Bars in general did not seem Michael’s style, but she was running out of options, and hey, he’d obviously changed at least a little bit since she’d seen him.

But the expression on his face when he looked at her, startled, confused — hell, maybe even hopeful — was exactly the same expression he’d worn that day that the two’d met each other the first time.

They’d both been different then, in their own ways. But now, it seemed like one of them had changed… well, a little more than would be possible for the other.

Still him, though. She could be sure about that.

And he needed some help.

“Hey.” She said simply, in greeting. “No complaining, no insisting on not bothering someone, we’re going to get you a bed.”

[tehuti88-art]

11/25/22: r/SketchDaily theme, "Gratitude/Free Draw Friday." (I did Free Draw Friday.)

This week's character from my anthro WWII storyline is Mirjam Zweifel. I can't really go into detail about her here but there'll be more about her later in my art Tumblr and Toyhou.se.

Regarding her design, she's a red and black Afghan hound. While choosing a dog breed for her (I originally intended to draw a different character today), that one popped into my head and seemed perfect for how I pictured her. Her hair bothers me--I have trouble with curls--and I drew her from scratch rather than using a previous character as a template, so her head shape is a bit off--but she'll do for now.

TUMBLR EDIT: Mirjam's plot is a highly unpleasant one, so, trigger warning ahead of time.

I don't know much about her past as she's not a main character, though not long before Reborn, she's gone into hiding with a group of other Jewish residents of the city; some are her extended family (she has no close family aside from an uncle and cousin, I think, who live in the country), some are strangers who've fallen in with them--they move furtively from place to place to avoid the Nazi forces who've taken over and after shutting down Jewish businesses and forcing them into ghettos, are now starting to round them up and send them to camps. For some reason, Mirjam's group has no contact with the Diamond Network, so that avenue of assistance isn't available to them. They scrape by until one day when a large group of Allgemeine-SS officers storm the house they're hiding in, taking a few prisoner but killing off most of them. They then find Mirjam and pull her out of hiding. Things rapidly go downhill from there, as they decide they're not interested in taking her prisoner OR outright killing her.

I won't go into detail. Mirjam passes out eventually, but survives, and for some reason they leave her for dead without actually trying to kill her. She regains consciousness and although very weak and in a lot of pain, looks around the house for her companions, finding them all missing or dead. She knows she can't stay, though she's too hurt to flee anywhere else, so she has to spend a day or so there to recover enough to make her way out into the city. Still has to stay as out of sight as she can, sneaking into abandoned buildings and scrounging/stealing food when possible. Before too long, she realizes she's scrounging/stealing for two: She's pregnant.

She has no idea what to do about this other than what she's already been doing, though her mind is in a very gloomy place. When she's spotted by a young woman in lipstick and eyeshadow (makeup is highly frowned upon by the Third Reich) she just huddles back in a corner, ready to fight her off if she has to, yet the woman reacts with shock and concern rather than trying to call the attention of authorities, and tries to coax her into following her to her residence so she can be cared for. Mirjam doesn't trust this stranger, but she's malnourished and exhausted, and very obviously showing by now, so continuing with things as they currently are isn't much of an option; she goes with the woman, who puts her coat over her and leads her to a building on a back street corner. It doesn't look like a residence; it looks almost like a store with big windows on the ground floor and apartments above. They go inside and to the left is a vestibule with desk, in the middle stairs leading up with a door-lined hallway beside them, and to the right, on display behind the windows, a sumptuously adorned parlor with plush furniture, garish wallpaper, and risqué artwork on the walls. A few women are relaxing within, also in makeup, high-cut skirts, and low-cut blouses, and suddenly Mirjam understands what sort of place this is.

She doesn't get to think about this much, or even to judge, really--any port in a storm. The young woman leads her to the elderly woman in charge of the place, a prim-and-proper, rather severe-looking lady named Frau Bitterlich. Despite her looks and stern demeanor, she loves "her girls" and treats them well, allowing them to choose or reject (up to a point) which clients they feel most comfortable with, housing and keeping them well fed, having a doctor on call if necessary, and making sure they're always safe; appointments are always in-house and an hour at most, no clients staying any longer than that, no one giving any last names, and anyone who oversteps his bounds is ejected and never allowed back. Even the clients themselves--who come in off the street but then usually settle into an ongoing arrangement with a particular girl--are mostly well behaved and warned against getting too familiar. The upstairs level is where the women live when not working. Frau Bitterlich gets a look at Mirjam and instantly takes charge, getting her washed up, sitting her down for food and drink, calling the doctor to come check her out. He tends to her injuries, says that she's in pretty good shape despite all she's been through, recommends penicillin just in case and vitamins. She's assigned an apartment and a crib is brought in. The women bring cloth for diapers and stitch baby clothes, excited at the thought of having a baby around--they all intend to help care for it as long as it's with them.

Mirjam gives birth to her daughter Gabriele above the brothel. Mirjam has dark skin, dark hair, dark eyes--Gabby is fair skinned, blond haired, blue eyed. Frau Bitterlich and the girls instantly realize what happened, but no one judges. Most surprised of all is Mirjam herself: While pregnant, she'd had mixed feelings of wanting to terminate it (not an option, in her situation), and of doing everything she could to protect it. When she gets her first look at Gabby, all she can think of is all those fair-skinned, blond-haired, blue-eyed men and how she has no idea which one is the father--filled with revulsion and dread, she wants the baby gone. But then Gabby looks at her, and Mirjam's heart melts. She realizes that while the mere sight of her own daughter will always bring back memories of that horrible day, she's still her daughter, she's all she has left, and Mirjam will do anything to keep her safe. Including taking a job with Frau Bitterlich--she also realizes she has no prospects otherwise. Frau Bitterlich guarantees her a place to live, regular meals, even care for Gabby now that Mirjam has decided to keep her. Yes, she'll need to service clients, but Mirjam believes she can handle this, considering what she already went through.

Well, of course it's more complicated than that, and she has to work through some more feelings first, but she does get used to the job. It isn't pleasant or ideal, but it keeps them both safe. The clients are discreet and (mostly) respectful. There's even a hidden compartment under the stairs for Mirjam and Gabby to hide in when suspicious parties arrive. Most of Frau Bitterlich's girls are typical Aryans, so Mirjam stands out, and the men who stop by soon take notice. She's not everyone's cup of tea, but a few find her unusual and interesting. Her differentness is what attracts clients, but it also attracts unwanted attention; once or twice, Nazi officials show up to check out the rumors of a Jewish woman living on the premises. It's rather an open secret that the place is an illegal brothel although Frau Bitterlich is good at concealing everything overtly suspicious from the authorities--they know what's going on even if they can't prove it, and let it slide. Rumors of a  Jewish prostitute are too much for them to ignore, but Mirjam and Gabby are somehow never anywhere to be seen when authorities arrive to look around, so that's all her presence remains, is a rumor.

Then one day, an unusual client walks in off the street. New and obviously very ill at ease, he looks away from the curious women lounging in the parlor--rather than smile and flirt, they cast him furtive, uneasy looks--and instead approaches Frau Bitterlich at her desk, to book an appointment. He's very cagey regarding what he's there for, so Frau Bitterlich has to lead and coax it out of him. Turns out he's not there for sex. He wants merely to be tied down and beaten. No kissing, no touching, not even talking--just beaten, that's all. That's odd, but she's heard of stranger things. When she asks what sort of woman he's looking for, he seems confused that that's even an option--but upon further prompting makes it clear he's interested in someone who looks exactly like Mirjam. This is an even odder request, in these particular circumstances, than his previous one; but Frau Bitterlich just asks him to go wait in one of the rooms in the hallway and she'll send someone along. One of the other girls leads "Herr Jan," as they call him--first names only--to a room while Frau Bitterlich heads upstairs to fetch Mirjam, whom the girls didn't get the chance to tell to hide earlier. She has a potential new client--Frau Bitterlich thinks she'll handle him perfectly, and details his request. Mirjam is puzzled by it but leaves Gabby with one of the others and heads downstairs. From a storage closet she fetches some "props"--restraints, a riding crop, a stick, a towel. Then heads into the assigned room--and once within, freezes. Her new client, seated waiting, is wearing the uniform of an SS major--and he looks just as stunned as she is.

Frau Bitterlich's place is set up so the appointment rooms lock when in use; there's a red light and buzzer inside that go off when the appointment time is almost up. You could argue this is dangerous for the girls inside the rooms, but it's meant more to protect the rest of the residents. Mirjam and Herr Jan stare at each other for a moment before she turns and starts beating on the door, calling for Frau Bitterlich in an increasing panic, but nobody overrides the lock. She turns back to the SS officer, who's standing up now; once he sees he has her attention, he says, "I can be discreet, if you can." And that's when she realizes that she's as much of a threat to him as he is to her: If an SS member is found in the company of a Jewish prostitute, he could end up executed just as easily as she could. They're under Frau Bitterlich's roof, so right now, Mirjam has the advantage.

Mirjam and Herr Jan go through with their appointment. Mirjam has a strange reaction while beating him--she gets so caught up in rage that she nearly dissociates, and stops herself only when he finishes--she finds herself surprised by how much anger she's been pushing down. Still, it apparently suits Herr Jan's purpose just fine. He arranges with Frau Bitterlich afterward to make it an ongoing thing--he'll be in to see her every three weeks. However, another of Mirjam's clients passes along a rumor that an SS officer was seen visiting the brothel and they should expect a visit soon. When an SS car arrives, Mirjam and Gabby hide under the stairs (toddler Gabby has been well trained to keep quiet during such things, with Mirjam presenting it as a game). Frau Bitterlich invites the pair of Allgemeine-SS officers to search the place and they do; they express puzzlement at Mirjam's unoccupied room and baby crib, but Frau Bitterlich has explanations for everything--she denies their question if she's ever had a Jew in her employ, then they leave. When Herr Jan shows up for his next appointment, Frau Bitterlich tears into him for showing up in uniform, and orders him to disguise himself and be more discreet; he sulkily agrees. Mirjam is mortified that Frau Bitterlich would dare speak up to the SS like this, and tries to set things right when she goes to see Herr Jan. (These are excerpts from an adult WIP.)

"Don't forget your props, dear."

She made a face of her own and halted by the small storage room, opening the door and fetching the necessary items before returning her attention to Room Three. She let herself in and shut the door, hearing it click locked behind her, doing this with her eyes closed to try to prepare herself; when she opened her eyes again, he was sitting on the bed the same as the last time, though instead of looking surprised, he was furrowing his brow slightly at the look on her own face. He looked as if he wanted to ask what was wrong, yet didn't.

"I'm sorry," Mirjam said; his perplexed look grew. "She doesn't mean to be so rude," she found herself almost babbling, suddenly desperate to keep him from getting angry. "Just that she worries. Your men paid us a visit and it worries her, is all. She means no disrespect." He opened his mouth but she plowed on before he could say anything. "She can get a little carried away but means no harm. You're always welcome to come by, I won't cancel the appointments. If--"

"Those weren't my men," the Sturmbannführer interrupted, raising his voice; Mirjam abruptly stopped talking. "Those were Allgemeine-SS. I'm Totenkopfverbände." Noticing she wasn't talking anymore, he took a breath, let it out, and seemed to compose himself. "She's right, and I should be more circumspect from now on. I hadn't meant to cause trouble."

He fell silent, though the peeved look returned to his face. Mirjam realized her heart was hammering in her throat, and took a steadying breath of her own; she hadn't even noticed how she'd suddenly equated him with not only the two men who'd searched the brothel, but those other men, so long ago. Why had she assumed those were his men...?

She took another breath, let it out. Tried to relax somewhat. "I'm sorry. You know...I--"

"Excuse me." She glanced at him and he gave her an odd look, half frank, half weary. "No talking...?" he said. "Bitte?"

They have appointment number two--she gets carried away and cuts open his shoulder, but he refuses any medical attention. Mirjam is perplexed by all this and tries to ask him what he gets out of it, but his reaction is to angrily snap, "No talking!" He complains to Frau Bitterlich before he leaves, and she rebukes Mirjam and tells her to stick to giving Herr Jan what he asked for lest she lose him as a client. Mirjam promises no more questioning--frankly, she's surprised he didn't terminate their arrangement. He takes to wearing an overcoat and cap and using the other entrance so he doesn't draw attention, though another SS officer does appear once to ask Frau Bitterlich a few questions. (This is Lt. Gunter Hesse, acting on behalf of Allgemeine-SS intelligence, looking into the rumors of a Totenkopfverbände officer visiting the brothel. He already knows a lot more than he lets on.)

While Mirjam's other regular (same guy as before) is visiting, lots of traffic and noise starts going by outside; he goes to look and reports back that the SS is planning a big event: a duel in the main square. Apparently, two SS members are going to fight each other over a matter of honor. This is highly unusual, so the SS has decided to monetize the event and invite the public to watch. (Tacky.) The day of the duel, another of Frau Bitterlich's girls begs to be allowed to go. Next scene slightly edited for content:

Late that night their coworker returned, a little bit flushed--"I just had a couple of drinks, they were selling beers. I didn't go f**k anybody! Honest!"--and breathlessly described the event. "Ah goodness! It was amazing! Such pomp! Banners and torches everywhere, and drums, and all those men in their black uniforms, no wonder everyone is so impressed. Every space was packed! I swear the whole city was there. Was hard for me to find a good spot but this kind gentleman helped me up onto his shoulders... Oh, quit looking at me like that, Frau, I said I didn't f**k anybody and I meant it."

"What was the duel about?" someone asked.

"They didn't say. Something personal, some honor thing, I guess. Isn't that what men duel over? Anyway, it was a lieutenant and a major dueling. Ah goodness, they were good! They wore Stahlhelms and full uniforms and fought with swords. Here I was expecting them to just shoot each other. But swords! That was really something."

"Who won? Who won? Was anyone hurt? Was anyone killed?"

"Nein, no one was killed. Nothing too bad with injuries, I mean, they cut each other a few times, I'm sure. But I don't think they do these things to kill each other. I thought for sure the major was going to win. Looked just like it! He was the favorite, judging by the cheers. But the lieutenant knocked him down at the last minute. Shoved his sword at his throat. Could've run him through right there but didn't. That's how I know they do this just to fight and look good, not to kill. The lieutenant won the fight."

"Wow!"

"Wish I could've seen!"

"Were they very handsome at all?"

"Goodness, what a silly question, who cares what they looked like?"

"Well, I'm curious! That's all."

"I couldn't see their faces, I'm afraid. Too dark, too far away. They were both fit, that I could tell. The major a little bit taller, the lieutenant a little more muscular. I think he was older, too. A little slower on his feet but it sure didn't matter in the end, I think he had more experience. Oh!" Her eyes went wide and her hands flew to her mouth. "That's right, I forgot! They introduced them by name when they came out. I forget the lieutenant's name, sorry, but the other fellow, it stuck with me 'cause I thought it just seemed...well..." She peered toward Mirjam, who frowned a little. "They introduced the fellow as Major Jan Delbrück."

Herr Jan--? Mirjam's throat tightened. Surely not. Jan was a common name, it made sense there were plenty of them in the SS.

But how many Major Jans...?

"Delbrück?" someone else echoed. "That's the name of the adjutant, isn't it? At the camp."

"How would you know the adjutant's name, you ignorant tart? You just making s**t up now?"

"Of course I'm not! You don't know his name? Common knowledge? Maybe you're the ignorant tart..."

Mirjam barely heard the rest over the roar of blood in her ears. All camp SS, including the adjutant, were Totenkopfverbände. Same as Herr Jan. A Major Jan, from the labor camp...she couldn't convince herself there would be more than one of them, in a city with but one camp.

"Why would Herr Jan get into a duel...?" she murmured when Frau Bitterlich drew close.

"Why? That's none of our business why they do what they do. And how do you know he was even your Jan, dear? Surely there are others."

"The same name? Rank? SS branch? You can't truly think that, can you, Frau Bitterlich? Besides, she said the other man dueling was a lieutenant."

"So...?"

"Remember that SS man who showed up here a while back to ask some questions? No, not the pair of them who searched the place, the one who was alone. The Obersturmführer. A lieutenant."

"Mirjam dear, you're jumping at shadows. None of it's our business. And I really don't want you interrogating your client again the next time he arrives, so just forget the whole thing. It's not part of our world."

The next time Herr Jan shows up, he has a bandage on his cheek--duel wounds in this location are so common they have their own name in German, the Schmiss. This is enough to prove to her that he was in fact the major at the duel. She tries to ask what happened, but he refuses to answer. What had occurred was Lt. Hesse and Maj. Delbrück ran into each other at the nightclub where Hesse's mistress sings, and...well, this scene, from a different WIP, is what occurred. (Note, Reinhardt is Delbrück's boss, the camp commandant; Azinger is Reinhardt's secretary/lover; Sophie is Hesse's mistress; Schulte is Hesse's right-hand man; Adelina is Addy Dobermann, a family friend of Hesse's; Cranz is the SS chauffeur; and Mengele, well, he's Mengele. Schulte is actually a Master Sergeant but that's klunky to type out. Kamerad (masculine) and Kameradin (feminine) are how SS members and official auxiliaries refer to each other (Cranz isn't an official auxiliary so they refer to him as Herr). Slight edits as before.)

"You are all right, Boss...?" He looked up; Sgt. Schulte had paused with his fork in the air, frowning at him. "You don't seem to be enjoying Fräulein Sophie as much as you usually do," he said, and before he could stop it, if he'd even intended to, Maj. Delbrück snorted--actually snorted. Lt. Hesse stiffened and an irrational surge of anger flared through him; he refused to look at the Sturmbannführer or otherwise acknowledge the sound, and he could tell from everyone else's reactions that they hadn't noticed it. Schulte was the lone exception, his eyes shifting just slightly in Delbrück's direction and then back to Lt. Hesse. They darkened just a bit but he gave no other sign he'd heard, aside from a pointed look at Lt. Hesse, silently asking if he wished him to act. Lt. Hesse moved his head the tiniest fraction, a negative. Schulte relaxed a little. No one else at the table paid the slightest attention to the tense interaction.

"I'm fine," Lt. Hesse replied quietly.

"You know, you do look a bit tired," Reinhardt said, taking a bite of his steak. "If you'd been out a bit earlier maybe you could've caught a ride with Fräulein Adelina and Herr Cranz."

Lt. Hesse blinked. "Adelina--? She was here?"

"Ja, but just for a bit. We invited her to stay but she acted a bit under the weather too, much like you."

Delbrück looked at him again but he paid no attention this time. Adelina had never said anything about wanting to come to the club, and now that he learned she'd been there, then abruptly left, he had an odd sinking feeling. "She headed back to the estate, then?" he asked, deciding to deal with that later; making sure she was safely home was more important.

"Ja, Herr Cranz offered her a ride. He, ah, he's a rather creative driver but I'm sure she got home in one piece."

"Too bad," Delbrück said; it was the first time he'd spoken, and both this, as well as the odd comment, made everyone, even Dr. Mengele, glance at him. "Too bad you were delayed joining us," he clarified. "I could've asked Herr Cranz to give you a ride home, too."

A tiny part of Lt. Hesse's mind urged him to let that go, wait until the show was over and everyone had gone before bringing up what he was there to bring up, but that snort echoed elsewhere in his mind, overriding any desire for tact. He sat up straighter and set down his silverware.

"Interesting you mention Herr Cranz, there are some things I wished to ask him, myself. Namely, what business he has chauffeuring the camp adjutant to and from a known house of prostitution."

All the blood drained from Maj. Delbrück's face. Lt. Hesse had to fight the urge to smirk, that was so satisfying. The other four all turned their heads to look directly at him. Schulte and Reinhardt blinked. Azinger reddened. Dr. Mengele murmured, "Ohh, spicy," and took a sip of wine.

Lt. Hesse and Delbrück stared at each other for a brief moment before the color started returning to his face and the look in his eyes grew positively hostile; still, he said nothing in response, and Hesse wondered just a tiny bit if his desire to gloat was premature. Most men would start denying things a little too vehemently, so when Delbrück did no such thing, Lt. Hesse wasn't sure how to proceed.

"Ahm..." Lt. Col. Reinhardt took a drink of his own beer, cleared his throat. "I'm sure everybody finds different ways to unwind," he said hesitantly. "Ja...?"

"J...ja!" Azinger exclaimed, sitting up straight. "Of course. I mean, I sure do."

"I collect eyes," Dr. Mengele said, and shrugged.

Schulte looked as if he wanted to agree, yet a withering glare from Lt. Hesse stopped him.

"I suppose," Lt. Hesse said. "It's a bit more complicated, though, when your idea of unwinding is passing time with a Jewish whore."

Silence at the table. Blank stares all around. All shifted in Delbrück's direction. Lt. Hesse saw it now, what had been missing before--actual fear, panic, behind his eyes. The satisfaction raised its spiteful little head in Hesse again, and he took a drink.

"You have nothing to say, Kamerad Delbrück...?" he said.

Delbrück said nothing, though the look in his eyes started shifting again, this time into outright hate. Lt. Hesse honestly hadn't wanted to make another enemy, but with that snort it seemed that ship had sailed.

"I'm..." Reinhardt started, trailed off, then tried again, "From where did you get this information?"

"If I named my sources, it'd rather do away with the whole point of my job," Lt. Hesse said.

The commandant furrowed his brow. "Then how are we supposed to respond to such claims?"

"You're in the SS just the same, you know how this works."

"I wasn't aware we were here to rat out each other."

"Generally we aren't. But generally we don't engage in such behaviors, either."

"So basically, you have no proof," Delbrück said suddenly. "Just foolish rumors. I know your sort just loves trafficking in rumors, but you're taking it to a whole new level now, ja?"

"I notice you aren't denying it," Lt. Hesse said.

Delbrück abruptly pushed his chair back and stood, leaning over the table; Azinger popped to her feet a second after and put her hand on his arm.

"I swear on my SS oath I've never f**ked any Jewish whore," Delbrück snapped. "That good enough proof for you? Or does it only count when it's one of you saying it?"

"I'm sure that's decent," Reinhardt said, starting to look a little panicked himself.

"It's easy to swear on an oath," Lt. Hesse said, "a lot harder to actually mean it."

"Hey, now," Reinhardt said, and even Dr. Mengele raised his eyebrows a little and took another drink to avoid saying anything.

Delbrück snorted again. "You'd know, wouldn't you? Because what I'm seeing, you're the only one turning on us."

"I don't make accusations lightly. There are witnesses. They can swear oaths, too. There's a reason I should believe you over them--?"

Delbrück swung and knocked the drink from Hesse's hand so it hit the floor and shattered. Sgt. Schulte stood and glowered. The murmur of chatter from the nearby tables ceased and the piano let out a discordant note before falling silent. Even worse, though, Lt. Hesse could no longer hear Sophie singing; a surreptitious glance toward the stage showed her staring toward their table, same as everyone else. He felt his ears burning.

"And now I know you're just making s**t up," Delbrück snarled, "because nobody's ever seen me f**king some Jew whore. You want to investigate someone? Investigate whoever's feeding you lies and trying to sic you on your own. Might be a better place to start. Have you tried checking your own office?"

"No one in my office has been accused of consorting with Jewish whores just yet," Lt. Hesse said. He just barely noticed how Lt. Col. Reinhardt and Dr. Mengele kept looking from one of them to the other, as if watching a tennis match.

"You don't have to put up with this!" Azinger exclaimed, touching Delbrück's arm.

"Mind your business, Kameradin!" Schulte scowled.

"Gentlemen." They all turned their heads and Lt. Hesse felt his insides clench; Sophie stood there frowning at them all, everyone else in the club staring at them as well. "If you're going to continue with this," she said, "I'm going to have to ask you all to take it outside."

"Bitte, Fräulein, everything is under control," Reinhardt hastily reassured her. "Just a small disagreement, ja--?"

"You'd know something about consorting with whores, ja?" Delbrück said to Hesse, as if the commandant hadn't even spoken. He gestured at Sophie. "After all, what would you call her--?"

Sophie stiffened, eyes widening and her own face blanching. Absolutely everyone else within sight--including everyone at the table, except Delbrück--reacted the same way. If anyone said anything or gasped, Lt. Hesse didn't hear it, not over the roar of blood suddenly in his ears. He shot to his feet, knocking his chair back; everyone but Delbrück flinched. Schulte put his hand on the grip of his dagger while Azinger grasped Delbrück's elbow harder, the two of them glaring at each other. Hesse leaned forward over the table just as the Sturmbannführer had.

"Just try being as insolent to me as you are to everyone else," he hissed, his voice deadly low. "See how you handle it when someone actually fights back."

Delbrück sneered. "You think you scare me, old man? I've shot plenty of people finer than you."

"Enough!" Dr. Mengele scootched his chair back a bit when Lt. Col. Reinhardt stood now, holding up both hands, palms facing the two men as if to push them away from each other. "That's quite enough!" he snapped, glowering at one and then the other. "Whatever this is, the two of you can settle like civilized people, outside!"

"The only 'settling' Old Man has in mind is tossing out whatever lies his office feeds him," Delbrück said.

"And yet I don't see you doing too much to defend yourself," Lt. Hesse replied, "aside from throwing a tantrum like a child."

There was just the tiniest half-second of a freeze before Delbrück snarled and grabbed at his belt. Everyone else reached for their guns only for Delbrück to jam something into the table; everyone looked down to see the black-handled dagger that still quivered, its blade engraved with the words Meine Ehre heißt Treue.

"Duel," Delbrück barked. "Swords. You choose the time and the place."

Lt. Hesse blinked. His first thought was how ridiculous this was, surely it was a joke, but there wasn't the slightest trace of amusement in the Sturmbannführer's eyes, and he didn't really have the time to think it over further, with everyone else looking on. He pulled his own Ehrendolch and jammed it into the tabletop.

"One week from now, eight in the evening, the main square. If this is what you seriously want."

He'd hoped, in the back of his mind, that the adjutant would back down, realizing how silly he was being--who challenged anyone to a duel, much less a sword duel, nowadays?--or maybe that the commandant would order him to back down. Instead, Delbrück pulled his dagger free--"Settled," he snapped--and shoved it back in its sheath, turning away from the table. Sophie stepped back as he stalked past, SS-Helfer Azinger casting a glance back before following. Lt. Hesse hesitated a moment before pulling his own dagger loose--he felt absolutely foolish, seeing the hole it left as he slid it back in its sheath and turned away from the table himself. Schulte stepped aside just as Sophie had, and fell into step just behind him; Hesse couldn't bring himself to look in Sophie's direction.

The room was silent enough that as they walked away he heard Dr. Mengele say, "Well, that was entertaining."

(Just one more quick note here to point out that Delbrück was being honest: At that point, he and Mirjam had never actually done the deed. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ )

So anyway...Hesse and Delbrück dueled, Hesse won (just barely), afterward Delbrück spotted Sophie watching in the crowd and apologized for calling her a whore, while Hesse located Schulte and suggested they return to the Dobermann estate to see Dr. Schäfer as he was having a mild heart attack. Mirjam is unaware of all this drama, but Delbrück did it all for her: The duel challenge was a ploy to distract Hesse from his investigation--he couldn't really turn it down and hope to save face. Delbrück hadn't counted on him being as skilled a fighter as he is (I think he's around ten years Delbrück's senior, in his forties by now, yet Delbrück has never been in combat), but it ends up working anyway: Hesse drops his investigation of Delbrück since it's too much trouble and even Sophie is pissed off about the whole thing. (When Hesse tries to explain he accepted the challenge to defend her honor, she snaps, "Honor! You think I care about honor? Honor is something men made up to impress women!"--and when he tells her to lower her voice she slaps him, in front of Schulte and his secretary and boss and everyone else in the office. Ouch. She really is flattered, though...)

Delbrück doesn't elucidate any of this, just wants to go through with his appointment. They do...except this time, for the first time, it doesn't work. Mirjam gets lost in her usual rage of beating the crap out of him when she hazily realizes he's yelling for her to stop; she does so, and he weakly gets up and says, "This isn't working." Mirjam starts to panic, offering him extra time, some sort of different acts, a refund even--he refuses them all and starts getting dressed. As she's standing there agonizing over what to do, Delbrück does something odd--he talks to her. (Slightly edited.)

"You..." She flinched on so unexpectedly hearing him speak up, unprompted, and peered at him. He was buttoning his collar; he peered up at her as well. The shadows under his eyes looked like bruises. "You should head home, now. If I'm your last appointment. You needn't spend further time on me."

"I just feel I should..."

"This isn't your fault. Go on home."

"I..." Mirjam rubbed her arms. "I actually am home, I live just upstairs, with my daughter."

Herr Jan's fingers halted straightening his collar. He met her eyes, blinking and furrowing his brow. "You have a child?"

Mirjam nearly felt her heart skip. Why, why had she said that--? Men didn't like that, they didn't want to know such things, they just wanted to f**k and leave, or cuddle for a while and imagine she was theirs alone--they didn't want to know she had a child, some other man's bastard, no less. That was one of the first rules she'd been taught when she started working there. Never, ever, ever mention your child, for that was the biggest thing that would shatter men's fantasies and make them look elsewhere for what they needed. ...The moment that child was born, the fantasy was shattered and they wanted nothing more to do with it.

She opened her mouth, to say what, she had no idea, when the light flashed and the buzzer sounded. Both she and Herr Jan jumped a little, looked up at it, then he gave his head a small shake--his eyes went cold and flat, and she knew anything she said would be met with a clipped "No talking." He retrieved his coat and cap.

"Ice...? For your back?" Mirjam offered.

He slipped on his coat and buttoned it up. "Nein, danke."

"I could ask for one more hour. A refund."

"Nein. Danke."

He leaves. Mirjam asks Frau Bitterlich if he canceled their ongoing arrangement--nope, it's still on. Yet when the time of Delbrück's next appointment arrives, he's a no-show. Mirjam is confused and, oddly, dismayed--it doesn't seem like him to not cancel ahead of time. She returns to her room to spend some time with Gabby, then brings her downstairs for a snack--and runs right into Delbrück, being led to their room. He's just late. They stare at each other so long that Gabby says, "Mama, who's he?" so Mirjam introduces her "friend" Herr Jan, and her daughter Gabriele. Delbrück says, "Hallo, Gabby," and even gets the tiniest smile when she says hello back. Mirjam hands Gabby off, fetches her props, and joins him in their designated room where he went to wait.

He just stood and watched silently as she went to the chair and set down the kit and towel--she'd remembered to bring one this time, hoping he'd give her the chance to try something else if their standard activities failed again--and despite Frau Bitterlich's voice in her head warning her not to, she was ready to apologize again for the last time, when he quietly said, "Her father is SS, isn't he?"

Mirjam froze, spine stiffening. The comment hadn't been spoken like a question, but more as an observation, requesting confirmation. More than that, though, was the fact that it had been spoken at all. She slowly, haltingly turned to look at him again. He met her eyes and didn't waver; she didn't know what to make of his expression. She didn't know what to make of his comment, either, but knew she could hardly pretend he hadn't spoken, when he was still obviously awaiting a reply.

She stood straight, setting down the riding crop. "He is," she said. The look in his eyes shifted just slightly, again, though she couldn't tell what it meant, and he said nothing. "I don't know his name," she added. "He was one of several...I lost count around eight."

The Sturmbannführer blinked. The look that flitted across his face was unmistakable this time, almost like he'd been punched; she'd spoken the words in the dim hopes of eliciting a response, any response, and there it was, and by now she hadn't expected it so it caught her by surprise. He turned away and went to sit on the bed, staring across the room but not directly focusing on anything.

Mirjam picked the riding crop back up and fiddled with it since her hands needed something to do; she felt nervous now, and wished she hadn't said anything. "You...want to try the usual, first?" she ventured. "And we can always try something else, if you n--like," she added. Don't make the client angry, don't make the client self-conscious.

"Does it not upset you?" She looked at him and he lifted his head to meet her eyes again. "Looking at her every day," he said, "and always being reminded."

Mirjam twined the crop's leather loop around her finger. "I'll be truthful," she murmured, "sometimes when I look at her, that's what I see. But she's still mine. I still love her. She has nothing to do with what happened. And I don't know what I would do without her, now."

Her response seemed to perplex him somewhat. "What if you'd had the choice? The choice not to have her. Not to be reminded every day. Would you have chosen differently?"

"I'll be truthful still. At the time, I had such thoughts. Didn't think I could handle it, could handle her. But the choice wasn't in my hands. And the memory would still be there anyway. I think I would have still done the same."

He looked across the room again, a slight, pensive furrow between his brows. "I suppose this is where we differ, then. I wouldn't have bothered."

She had the vague sense that this was a rather offensive statement, yet for some reason it didn't offend her. Instead, her curiosity burned even more. "Like you said, it wasn't exactly a choice," she replied. Twisted the crop's strap around her fingers, and bit her lip a little. "Are...are we talking?" she ventured.

He lifted his head again, gave her a puzzled look. Then comprehension replaced it, and he glanced at the opposite wall.

"I suppose we are."

The ice is finally broken. They introduce themselves--he expresses mild amusement over her last name, Zweifel, which means "doubt"--and they get to talking. Never do bother with their intended session, though he doesn't cancel their arrangement. When he leaves, Mirjam is careful not to mention their discussion to Frau Bitterlich lest she get irate; she isn't sure what to expect from future appointments, though she knows the situation has fundamentally changed, and the same rules as before no longer hold.

They continue to meet, though for a while, all they do is talk. For obvious reasons, both are reluctant to say too much about their pasts, though eventually, and piecemeal, Mirjam learns Delbrück's reason for coming to see her in the first place; it's a theory she has to put together herself as he's not entirely willing to buy it. Prior to being promoted to camp adjutant, while serving under Ernst Dannecker (the previous commandant, and very nearly a psychopath), he volunteered for an especially unpleasant job; the local camp isn't an extermination camp, so it has no gas chambers, but prisoners do occasionally go through selections and some are killed. The easiest mode of extermination is firing squad--which in this case meant a group of guards just gunning everyone down at once. It was messy and it often resulted in a handful of prisoners surviving the initial attempt yet being grievously wounded. Dannecker decided somebody should deliver a coup de grace, or finishing shot, to the survivors, else he'd just shove them in the crematorium still alive. When he requested a volunteer, nobody wanted to do it--so Delbrück stepped forward before Dannecker could follow through on his threat. Delbrück accompanied the other guards and prisoners to the side yard, Dannecker watching, and after the firing squad did its job, moved in and killed the remaining prisoners with a single shot each. (This is the morbid basis of his insult to Hesse, "I've shot plenty of people finer than you.") Then just as Dannecker started congratulating him for a job well done, he threw up. But stuck with the job anyway, because, as he tells Mirjam, "No one else would do it." Mirjam suspects it has more to do with Dannecker's promise to just burn the prisoners alive if nobody volunteered--indicating that Delbrück's opinion of the prisoners doesn't align with the typical SS stance. His reaction in the following months--nightmares, insomnia, various attempts to distract himself such as drinking himself into a stupor--just backs up this theory. Why would he feel such guilt over the deaths of "subhumans"? She repeatedly presses him about why he joined the SS in the first place if he feels this way, and he can't think of any real answer; it was just something to do, that lots of other people were doing. She's not sure if this answer is truthful or not but it's the best he can offer. She offers the explanation that when the SS didn't meet his expectations, and he couldn't figure out how to deal with the pressure of his volunteer job (by the time Dannecker was killed in a prisoner escape Delbrück had already been shuttled off to a different job, handling files in the administration building, as Dannecker had deemed him unfit for a guard role for associating too much with the kapo, Schindel--Delbrück would often smoke cigarettes with him), he started seeking even riskier methods of distracting himself, which eventually led to where he is today: Requesting a Jewish woman to repeatedly beat him black and blue, as a sort of punishment. Delbrück isn't into psychology, so he's skeptical of this theory, though he doesn't have an explanation of his own. Though as Mirjam points out, just like drinking and the other escape methods he tried, now even this isn't working for him anymore, because the only thing that WILL help is directly confronting what he did.

Delbrück is reluctant to go much further with it, and Mirjam doesn't push, knowing he'll have to deal with it in his own time. He's surprised that she's still willing to talk to him after this admission. Mirjam is rather surprised, too; she'd fully expected to hate him, yet she doesn't. He kisses her one day, and she doesn't push him away; they don't technically have sex though they do go a lot further than anything allowed in their arrangement, and it does eventually lead to the inevitable. Frau Bitterlich requires that clients always use protection in such circumstances, so she quickly learns that Mirjam and "Herr Jan" are violating their contract; arrangements are allowed to be modified, though it's something that's always sorted out with her, ahead of time. So yeah, she's rather disapproving of Mirjam sneaking behind her back on this, and wonders--not for the first time--if she made a mistake thinking she could handle such a client. Mirjam protests that she can, insisting Delbrück is merely a client the same as the others, and surely he'll agree to modify the contract if asked. She isn't positive about this, though, and worries that he'll refuse when Frau Bitterlich requests that he agree to the change, which also modifies the price. However, when Frau Bitterlich mildly rebukes him for breaking the contract, and asks if he'd prefer to modify it and pay more, or terminate it and go on his way, he indeed agrees to modify it--he'll continue to visit Mirjam.

For a time, Delbrück becomes an odd addition to Frau Bitterlich's place of business; the other women grow to like him, and always greet "Herr Jan" when he visits. It becomes clear that on at least a few occasions, he helps steer unwanted attention away from the place, helping protect everyone there. Most of all, he gets along well with Gabriele, not minding keeping an eye on her for a few moments here and there, and Gabby likes "Herr Jan" as well; Mirjam asks if he'd be willing to take her out to visit the park for a day, as she's lived her entire life inside the brothel, and knows of the outside only through stories. Delbrück accepts, and spends several hours walking Gabby around the park, telling anyone who asks that she's the child of a friend, though one woman gushes, "You have such a lovely little daughter," and the comment hits him hard: Although he participated in the Lebensborn program and likely fathered a few children, he never got to meet them, and by now he's a staunch antinatalist, believing it's foolish and selfish to bring children into the world (yet another opinion that puts him at odds with the SS). Hearing Gabby referred to as his child, he wonders if the thought of being a father, having a family, is so repellent after all. He brings Gabby, tired yet happy, back to Mirjam, then returns alone to his bunk at the camp and mulls this over the rest of the night. Mirjam might be the one working and hiding away in a brothel just to survive, but he's the one who feels like his life is empty and meaningless--only his visits to Mirjam seem to have any point. He and Mirjam reach the same conclusion around the same time: Although they tried hard not to, and they know nothing can actually come of it, they've fallen in love with each other.

Late in the war, it starts to become clear the Third Reich is struggling--they're running short of troops, especially to fend off the Red Army on the Eastern Front, and so they have to get creative. The SS-Totenkopfverbände (camp guards) and Waffen-SS (militarized troops) are closely affiliated, so guards from the labor camp are mustered to head off to the front while wounded Waffen-SS troops arrive to take their place in the camps. Delbrück is among those pressed into service, and it's a while before he returns. Strangely, he does so rather against his own wishes; Lt. Hesse spots him among the SS troops returning to the city with a great deal of pomp and celebration, and addresses him although the two of them dislike each other. Despite the celebratory nature of their return, the always observant Hesse has noticed something odd: The members of this particular group of returning troops aren't wounded nearly so badly to put them out of commission, plus they look especially gloomy and unsettled--everyone is celebrating but them. Hesse asks Delbrück what's up. Delbrück refuses to directly answer him at first, but then decides to lay open the truth: He and the others with him were deliberately called back by Nazi leadership to make a big show of returning to the city and boost civilian morale. Most of them are indeed still in good enough shape to keep fighting, and even volunteered to stay on the Eastern Front, yet were called back anyway. When Hesse says this means their position was effectively abandoned to the Soviets, Delbrück replies that's exactly what it means: Germany is losing the war, and they know it. While they're abandoning parts of the Eastern Front, they're sending children and women and old men to fight off Allied forces encroaching from the west; this, combined with the mock celebration and propaganda surrounding the SS troops' return, just proves how desperate the leadership has become to conceal the truth. The Soviets haven't gained much ground yet, but Delbrück insists it's just a matter of time before Germany falls, and it's too late to prevent it. He doesn't intend it, but this revelation has a harsh impact on Hesse--he completely bought in to the military leadership's claim that Germany was stabbed in the back from within and this was why they lost in the Great War, despite certain claims to the contrary; now, it's happening all over again, except this time Hesse sees the evidence with his own eyes. He doesn't want to believe that his entire life's purpose has been a lie, but that's certainly what it looks like: For the first time he has serious thoughts of leaving the SS.

Delbrück resumes his job at the camp and his visits to Mirjam, but warns both her and Reinhardt, the commandant, that the current situation won't last much longer and they may need to take drastic action to protect themselves. It's difficult to believe until the word finally comes that Allied forces are approaching the city: the Americans from the west, the Red Army from the east. Which one will reach them first is anybody's guess, though the stories the Waffen-SS and Wehrmacht tell about the Red Army make everyone hope it's the Americans. A lot of people flee the city early; troops remain to protect the city and those who decide to stay, but when the armies finally reach them, it's every man for himself. Many of the German troops--especially the SS--bail out when the fighting gets too intense.

Lt. Col. Reinhardt, who isn't in active military service, is in the city when enemy troops arrive, and is wounded; he manages to make it back to the camp, and dismisses those of his guards who haven't already fled. He goes into the administration building, gets on the PA system, and announces that he's turning off electricity to the fences and opening up the gate; he does so, then sits down on the floor, fatigued and in pain, to wait for the Allies to arrive. He's surprised when someone joins him--Isaak Schindel, the camp kapo. The two of them have formed an unusual relationship; Schindel was treated very poorly by the previous commandant, Dannecker, but Reinhardt has treated him quite well in comparison, so that Schindel hangs on every request he makes. (As I'll go over in Reinhardt's upcoming entry, this is definitely not an egalitarian friendship--although Reinhardt is oddly progressive, and certainly not cruel (he actually abhors the camp system and thinks expelling the Jews would have been better), he still believes in certain Nazi principles, and treats Schindel almost like a pet, assuming that Jews lack the same sort of intelligence the Aryans have. He's kind to Schindel, but it's in a pretty condescending way, like you'd treat a small dog or a favorite slave. When he meets Dr. Schäfer later on, and treats him the same way, he's struck dumb when Schäfer makes it clear how intelligent and well read he is--to Reinhardt, it's like seeing an animal speak.) Hearing him on the loudspeaker, Schindel ignored the other prisoners who chose to exit the camp if well enough, and tracked him down to the control room. He chooses to stay with Reinhardt as the Allies reach and seize the camp; fortunately for Reinhardt, it's the Americans, and once they sort out the initial confusion (they can't figure out why Schindel is there, so assume he's a guard in disguise), they take Reinhardt prisoner rather than outright kill him like the Red Army surely would have. The remaining prisoners are taken for food and medical attention; any guards the Allies come across are captured or, if they fight back, killed.

Delbrück was smart, and got out early on, with Reinhardt's blessing (shortly before Reinhardt was wounded). The different branches of the SS are in complete chaos, many of them fleeing, a handful still defending the city, more of them just shooting and looting even their own people. Delbrück tries to make his way to Frau Bitterlich's place, but is having a hard time of it, until a loud honking catches his attention and the big black SS limousine appears. Behind the wheel is the chauffeur, Andreas Cranz, his sick mother with him; he's appropriated the SS limo and is on his way out of the city, and asks Delbrück if he'd like a ride. Delbrück asks to stop by the brothel first, and Cranz (who was the one to originally recommend the place to him, and drive him there and back) does so. Delbrück hops out of the car and heads inside to find Mirjam.

Frau Bitterlich, Mirjam, and Gabriele are the only ones still there, the other girls having fled--Mirjam has nowhere near enough she can flee to, so has stayed with Frau Bitterlich for protection. They're surprised by Delbrück's arrival--even more surprised when he scoops up Gabby and grabs Mirjam's arm, pulling her after him. She's seen the other SS officers moving through the city and has no idea what he's doing, so she actually resists, trying to pull free and yelling for Frau Bitterlich; Delbrück ignores her protests, shoving her and Gabby in the waiting limo (Cranz and Frau Cranz are beyond confused) before getting in himself. Mirjam pounds on the window and keeps yelling for Frau Bitterlich to intervene; although she initially tried to stop Delbrück, Frau Bitterlich just stands there now, watching in dismay, and does nothing--she knows what Mirjam doesn't realize yet, that Delbrück is her best chance for survival. Delbrück orders Cranz to drive, and away they go, Mirjam watching Frau Bitterlich fade away in the rear window.

Mirjam turns and sits down, picking up Gabby and huddling in on herself while Frau Cranz peers at her over the back of her seat. There's a very awkward moment of silence.

Gabriele: "Mama, what's happening?"

Mirjam: *looks at Delbrück*

Cranz: "Guten Tag, ma'am, I'm Andreas Cranz, and this is my ma."

Frau Cranz: "Hallo."

Mirjam: "Mirjam...Mirjam Zweifel. My daughter, Gabriele."

Gabby: "Hallo!"

Frau Cranz: "Nice to meet you."

So, now that everybody knows everyone else, they have to figure out a plan. Cranz's plan is simple: Get his mother and himself the hell out of there. Delbrück has no plan for himself, as he has no family or anywhere to go. Mirjam has an uncle and cousin who live in the country and have escaped any trouble with the Nazis; she's never been able to safely reach them. Delbrück requests Cranz to get them there and he vows to try, though the situation is tricky--the SS forces are still controlling certain access points in the city. His passengers are the difficult part: The SS will never allow Mirjam and Gabby to leave, while the Allies, if they come across them, will never allow Delbrück to leave. He and Delbrück head for the nearest SS-controlled checkpoint; Mirjam and Gabby crouch down on the floorboards and Delbrück covers them up while Cranz is questioned by the officers and he and his mother and Delbrück show their papers. They're lucky that the officers don't look too closely, though when a second checkpoint appears at their intended exit from the city, they know they likely won't be so lax this time. Cranz says they can take their chances the officers won't search the car, or he can drive straight through. Delbrück chooses the latter. "Hold on, then," Cranz says, and floors it. "Heads down! Grab on to whatever you can!" he yells as they get close, and everyone else squats down on the floorboards, grabbing the seat edges and covering their heads, Mirjam shielding Gabby with her body and Delbrück shielding her. The SS guards at the checkpoint start waving to flag Cranz down; then, realizing he isn't going to stop, they panic and jump out of the way as he plows through the barricade. "Keep down!" he orders, right before gunfire starts striking the back of the limo, shattering the window and making Gabby cry out. Everyone stays down with their heads covered as Cranz speeds out of the city and into the countryside; he doesn't slow down until the city and any other vehicles are well out of sight, then pulls to the side of the road to make sure everyone's all right--they're rattled, and Delbrück and Mirjam were scraped by flying glass, but no one is seriously hurt. He gets out a moment to look things over; the limo is crumpled in the front and shot to hell in the back: "It's all f**ked up, but it'll still go." He gets in and asks the location of Mirjam's uncle's farm, and pulls back onto the road to drive them there.

Mirjam's cousin spots the janky black limo with the tattered SS and swastika flags coming up the drive, and hides nervously behind the window, not knowing why it could be there; her anxiety spikes when Delbrück gets out, but as soon as he helps out Mirjam and Gabby, she gasps and rushes outside. She throws her arms around Mirjam--they haven't seen each other in years, since before Mirjam and the others were attacked by the SS. Delbrück hands Gabby to Mirjam; "Where are you going to go--?" Mirjam asks, but all Delbrück says is, "Take care of her," and returns to the car. It pulls away, Delbrück glancing back at her through the shattered rear window, and once again Mirjam watches someone she knows fade away in the distance.

(Cranz asks Delbrück where he'd like to go. He has nowhere, nobody to go to, so he requests to be dropped off alongside the road so Cranz and his mother can go on their way. "You sure?" Cranz asks with a frown; he is, so Cranz obliges, and Delbrück is left behind with nothing but the clothes on his back--his SS uniform, which makes him a target. He spots another farm in the distance and starts walking.)

Mirjam's cousin and uncle are overjoyed to be reunited with her, though her own joy is dampened somewhat by her worry for Delbrück. She can't really explain this to her family, so keeps it to herself, agonizing privately over what will become of him; as the Allies finally assume control of the city, and the Third Reich falls, she knows that now the Nazis are the hunted ones, meaning that someone with zero connections, like Delbrück, stands little chance of survival. And this wears on her even as her old, safe life resumes, with her taking up working on her uncle's farm and raising Gabby in the country. They grow small crops which her uncle transports to another nearby city to sell to the people who are tired of the wartime rationing and looking forward to building things anew. Gabby at first asks what's become of Frau Bitterlich and her girls and Herr Jan, but after a while she seems to forget and moves on.

Mirjam and her uncle drive the big truck into the city one day to deal with some business. On their way out, Mirjam spots somebody walking along the sidewalk; he's wearing civilian clothes, looks like a working-class fellow, but she could swear she recognizes him. She asks her uncle to stop and leans out of the truck door to hail the man; he looks at her, and there's no mistake: It's Delbrück. "Herr Jan...?" she calls out, anyway; after a surprised moment he relaxes and says sorry, no, his name is Bruno Lehmbruck. Mirjam apologizes, and shuts the door; she doesn't know yet all the details, how he's been living on the move and scraping together a living by taking odd jobs on the farms, but she knows the why: His sort are the ones in hiding and on the run now. She tells her uncle she made a mistake and they can go, to which he mutters, "Too bad it isn't who you thought it was, could always use an extra hand to help out." She tells him to stop the truck again, and he exclaims in annoyance but does so; again she leans out the door and "Herr Bruno" looks at her. She says that they have a spot for him, if he knows how to work on a farm. He stares at her a moment before saying, "I can learn," and climbs in the back of the truck. Once upon a time, Delbrück helped save her; now, she returns the favor.

At the farm, Gabriele gives the new guest a curious look; Mirjam introduces him as her "friend," Herr Bruno. "Hallo, Gabby," Delbrück says, to which Gabby replies, "Hallo!" and Delbrück gets the tiniest smile.

[Mirjam Zweifel 2022 [‎Friday, ‎November ‎25, ‎2022, ‏‎4:05:13 AM]]

[feebleturtleduck-artz]

More old art reposts, because I feel its off-topic enough to post here since I need somewhere new to post and don’t just draw Scooby-Doo constantly.

So long stupid story for this character: some unspecified years ago, I can’t remember exactly I was between the ages of 10-13, somewhere in there so 2010-2013 I wanted to make a character who was a slasher, but was unfamiliar with things like gore properly at the time.

So instead of trying to design my own character I made a rip off Michael Myers, down to the mask. I believe I drew a single shitty image of him in a sketchbook, and it was JUST the mask(not even a head or anything) with squiggly hair. I thought “I can’t just have rip off Michael Mysters, I have to make it different” so I came up with the idea to make his hair blue because I had been referencing art from blue haired anime men at the time.

I didn’t draw him for YEARS. That was the only image that exist of blue-hair Michael Myers rip off. Then sometime in 2018 I got into Slasher art, especially on tumblr where I saw a lot of peoples OCS. I remember seeing a trend of teenager boy flashes. I wanted to make my own slasher OC but the closest I had at the time was old Creepy Pasta OCS which really didn’t fit the handle. Then suddenly, I remembered my blue haired Michael Myers rip off! I could finally do something with him and make it original! remake him and make him good! I never actually sat down to draw it, because I had way too many ideas, but Blue-haired-Michael-Myers was going to just be redrawn as a Slasher is overalls but with a filthy blood/dirt stained mask, and a blue scraggly wig. THEN I had the idea to make him younger, because all the slasher OCS I saw on tumblr were young teen boys. So the next idea was for him to be a skinnier, scraggly teen boy, much younger than before. With the same mask, but cleaner. I played around with the idea it would be a wig but settled on it being his own hair, that was dyed blue.

Then I tried to come up with a story line for him, but by that time I was kinda bored and done with Slashers as a whole. I ended up toning his story down to where he was a slasher, but had trauma. And then to where he was a slasher, but it was an accident that he killed someone. He became younger and younger, until he was a 12yr old child. I debated keeping him a slasher, but he kept getting younger and more innocent and more incapable of being a proper murdering slasher. So at that point, I dropped the slasher plot line entirely.

He eventually got the moniker of “Blue Boy”. I kept the story line about him being abused and having (possibly) killed someone by accident, but he was a small child with no real malicious intent.

Anyways, what’s the point of this story?

Has anyone heard of SALLY FACE? It’s a game. One of my friends helpfully pointed out Blue Boy looks identical to SF and they are right and its horribly annoying because every time I have drawn him someone has asked me “Is that Sally Face?” it is not.

So now I’m left to wonder if I should change his hair color. I know you can’t copy right blue haired anime boys wearing masks but the resemblance is undeniable and its annoying. But if I change his hair color I can’t call him “blue boy” anymore and I really feel blue WAS his color. But I hate how much he looks like SF. His hair isn’t even naturally blue.

I’m thinking of having it changed to pink or green in his teenage years because I really like that color scheme but again, it kinda ruins him :/ ah well.

Enjoy the art. First image was drawn Dec 27, 2018 Second image was drawn Dec 23, 2018

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/8/2022: HELLRAISER (2022)

I think this movie is shining a light on the difference between how horror fans judge modern movies versus older ones, and perhaps especially versus the films of their childhood. I feel like I'm seeing a lot of responses from viewers who were immediately hung up on the glibly-deployed elements of addiction and recovery in HELLRAISER 2022, and so found themselves unable to engage with anything else in the movie. Personally…I just didn't take it so personally, and it occurred to me that I've never heard anyone complain about the ludicrous portrayal of mental illness and autism in HELLRAISER II, or the specter of incest that haunts HELLRAISER '87, and I could easily branch out into other much-adored movies that are not too socially-just, but that remain cozily swaddled in nostalgia, loved and forgiven. Maybe there's a feeling that newer movies should know better, coming as they do from an enlightened era of being fully informed about the suffering of others via the educational power of the internet, and therefore taking everything as seriously as possible. Maybe that makes modern viewers feel like it's too late to correlate the scourge of addiction with the quest for experience sought through the lament configuration. I mean, everybody has a right to their reactions and I think it's culturally healthy for even a really great work of art to take a few slings and arrows, to keep us all off autopilot. But I think that holding the human grist in HELLRAISER to the standards of neorealist drama is sort of missing the point of a movie like this—which is, of course, the cenobites.

And the cenobites are great! Director David Bruckner gives good monster yet again, having delivered a fabulous beast in 2017's THE RITUAL, and true to the spirit of 2020's THE NIGHT HOUSE, he shows a refined understanding of infernal geometry. David S. Goyer joins the screenwriters of the latter movie, Ben Collins and Luke Piotrowski, to set up a plot about a rich pervert (Goran Visnjic) who has a typically disappointing transaction with the cenobites, and so he manipulates a group of young dirtbags into helping him negotiate a new deal. I guess there are never enough survivors of cenobite commerce for word to get around that they only offer a monkey's paw type of thing, but I don't really care if the characters make a lot of dumb decisions so long as the tradeoff is always that I get to see cenobites.

The story centers on recovering addict Riley (Odessa A'zion, who I just have to mention is one of Pamela Adlon's kids!) who discovers the lament configuration during a robbery planned by her sleazy boyfriend Trevor (Drew Starkey). Riley's lapse of judgement allows the cenobites to make off with her brother (Brandon Flynn), and so Riley and her friends pursue the secrets of the puzzle box to try to save him. While HELLRAISER '22 has been described as a remake and a reboot and a reimagining in various quarters, David Bruckner has been clear that it's, like, just another Hellraiser story. There are a lot of books and comics and movies about all the different people who fall prey to the box's enticements, and it's totally reasonable to just make another one of those based on the series' abundantly flexible premise. Actually, while my husband and I were watching the movie, we started compulsively riffing on all the different things you could do: First we felt like Riley's misadventure with her unlucky friends was just like an episode of Search Party, which made us think about how funny it would be to introduce the lament configuration in other Bad People sitcoms like Seinfeld, or Curb Your Enthusiasm, or It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia, and then before long we were imagining a whole season of The Rehearsal where Nathan Fielder tries to get a series of unfortunate rubes to open the box for him.

What HELLRAISER '22 offers is not grand insights into human nature, but fun experiments with the basic conceit. The lament configuration is one of the greatest designs in horror to be sure, and yet somehow nobody has ever gone into detail about why it assumes so many shapes. I normally do NOT want a bunch of anal retentive rules and dry explanations added to my horror movies; I find that the less mysterious things are, the less emotionally effective they are. In this case, the coding of each of the box's configurations as representing a different human longing both honors the original lore, and adds complimentary flavors—and speaking of flavor, I'd love it if someone would realize my idea for a breakfast cereal with freeze-dried marshmallow configurations. But anyway, the love of design and its expressive capabilities is laced through the whole movie, from its inventive architecture, to its fabulous new cenobites. A lot of love went into crafting these things, and Jamie Clayton easily earns her place in the expanded scheme of things. Viewers who are too distracted by HELLRAISER '22's tangential references to the real-life horrors have my sympathy, because if you can watch around the corners of that issue, there is much to enjoy.

[anon-e-miss]

I feel like whether Iazz and Prowl got together with Jazz already having the twins or having them together, either way, even grown, the twins would still be two of Prowls staunchest defenders if anyone said anything about him being a drone spark or something

"What ever it is, I can explain," Cheetor said as he entered Jazz's office.

"I hope ya can, actually," Jazz replied with a forced chuckle. "Come on, sit. Ya ain't in trouble. 'M hopin' ya can give me a bit o' intel?"

"On what?" Cheetor asked.

"Tarantulas."

"What?" Cheetor asked and he fidgeted. "Web-brain?"

"You had a run in wit 'm before ya got outta Tarn," Jazz said. "Ya went AWOL straight outta basic, lookin' to settle a score."

"I..." Cheetor shrank in his chair.

"Whatever ya can tell me, Cheetor," Jazz said, soft and patient. His subordinate was spooked, so spooked his bravado could not rise up enough to hide it. "It's important. I need to track 'm down. A mechlin's life might be at stake."

"The bitlet," Cheetor flinched like he had been struck. "Prowl..."

"Ya know 'bout Prowl's bitlet?" Jazz asked, surprised by the revelation.

"I... I was a youngling," Cheetor said. "Web-brain caught me in his web. He was going to drain me of my mechfluid. Prowl, I didn't know his designation at the time appeared. He was... he was naked except for these these rings around his wrists. I recognized them. They would put them on debt slaves in the brothels to keep them from being able to transform and escape. His forge was swollen, he looked so... frail with that big belly, he looked so tired when he slipped me the scalpel. He bent over the counter and told Tarantulas the his perfect creation need more contributions. Tarantulas... giggled and scurried over. He didn’t... he just fragged, tricks on the street had better style. I got myself out of the web... We made optic contact, me and Prowl. He jerked his helm towards this tunnel. He told me to go, with his optics.  I went.”

“Scrap,” Jazz cursed.

“As soon as I was done basic I went back there,” Cheetor explained. “I’d learned how to fight, I thought I could get him and his bitty out but the lab was empty. It had been empty for a long time.”

“Ya ever speak to Prowl?” Jazz asked.

“No,” Cheetor shook his helm. “I didn’t think... I thought he wouldn’t want the reminder. I hurt Bots talking, you know how he was found, how he was enlisted and I thought, maybe that monster ate his bitlet... I didn’t want to remind him.”

“Ya did the right thing gettin’ out,” Jazz said. “Ya did what he wanted ‘n I bet he’d be glad to see what a brave, young mech ya turned into.”

“I heard what Vortex did to him,” Cheetor said. “Or what they’re saying. Some of them are saying he asked for it.”

“Prowl put ‘mself in harms way to protect my twins,” Jazz replied. “He didn’t ask for scrap. He told me about his bitlet. Told me he don’t feel ‘m no more but don’t feel a broken bond either. ‘M lookin’ to sniff Tarantulas out. I don’t suppose ya can tell me more ‘bout his ole lair?”

“I’ll tell you everything I know!” Cheetor said. “I... I can help. I’m sure I can help. I’m fast! I bet I could distract him so you can get after the bitty.”

“Let’s just start wit ya tellin’ me what ya know.”

They had never been lovers. True, there was a chance that they had been and Prowl saw the errors of his ways, but Jazz did not think so. Prowl would not have let that he had experienced a change of spark. This was Prowl, he would have either shot Tarantulas in the back of the helm or he would have just slipped off when Tarantulas had been distracted.  He had been a prisoner, under Praxus as the Decepticons had been looting the city, before the explosion and he had been a prisoner when he had been ensparked. Had Tarantulas guessed Prowl’s part in Cheetor’s escape? What sort of punishment might Prowl have suffered for rescuing the youngling?

He could not ask, not yet. The Twins walked alongside him with the crystals they had chosen for Prowl. Jazz had given in to their pleading and let them each choose their own arrangement for Prowl. They deployed Grade A guilt trips and Jazz had walked away from the florist with an arrangement of crystals to give himself. He thought the datapads he had boxed would probably be a more Prowl gift, but there was no telling no to the Twins when they got like this. Maybe Jazz was too permissive a procreator, but he could not find a reason to say no when they only wanted him to be nice to their favourite mech.

How in Primus’ designation had Jazz missed how much they adored Prowl for three vorns? They were not just comfortable with him, they actually loved him and Jazz had just figured they had been sneaking into his office to get a rise out of the most stalwart Autobot on the planet. His preconceptions, misconceptions of Prowl had put blinders on Jazz. He should have listened less to Chromedome, because Jazz knew what kind of boss Prowl was, he was coming to question if everything Chromedome had said all these vorns could have been lies.

“Prowl!” Sideswipe held the arrangement he had chosen out as they stormed into the Praxian’s treatment room. He set the datapad he had been holding down. Prowl smiled. It was the tiniest squirk of his mouth and a crinkling at the end of his optics. Holy Primus. Might Prowl love them back? “We brought ya crystals! Aren’t they pretty?”

“They are,” Prowl said.

“Granny says crystals help mecha heal,” Sideswipe explained as he placed the crystals on the table next to Prowl’s berth. “Because they’re bright ‘n happy.”

“Yer granny’s fond o’ crystals,” Jazz said.

Sunstreaker held the crystals he had chosen up to Prowl, then set them down on the table next to Sideswipe’s selection. He confidence bred from familiarity, he climbed onto the medberth and sat sat down next to him. Jazz was speechless. He knew Sunny was a cuddler but Sunny was picky. He loved to cuddle him, his twin, Punch, no one else. Sideswipe was not nearly so coordinated as Sunstreaker and he clamoured, or tried to clamour onto the berth. Jazz quickly set the box and crystals he was carrying down and scooped Sideswipe up and then set him down with Sunstreaker.

“He didn’t jerk ya, I hope?” Jazz asked. Prowl shook his helm.

“Even if he did, I would not feel it,” he replied. “Ratchet has not reactivated my relays.”

“Don’t forget to give Prowl your crystals,” Sideswipe chastened his progenitor and Jazz smiled at him.

“Did you harass your progenitor to give me crystals?” Prowl asked and Jazz felt bad that he had come to that conclusion. He made to attempt to save face.

“They did,” Jazz said. “Got an audial full ‘bout turnin’ up empty servoed. My Ori’s right though. Crystals help ya heal.”

Prowl’s optics were the same colour of the celestite in the arrangement Jazz had chosen and he had not noticed it. He set the arrangement on the other table. Between the artwork covering the walls and the crystals covering the tables, Prowl’s treatment room looked bright and full of love. When Prowl looked down at the Twins, his optics sparkled like the crystal. They went opaque when they fell on Jazz. The expression, the optics were the window to the spark, had never held truer for any mech.

“Ya still torturin’ yerself wit Optimus’ sap?” Jazz asked.

“This one is the worst yet,” Prowl said. “Not only is the plot full of holes, the dialogue is awful and it is riddled with grammatical errors.”

“Ya been correctin’ it in yer helm, ain’t ya?” Jazz asked.

“Perhaps,” Prowl replied and when he looked at Jazz there was a spark, a sparkle and Jazz laughed.

“Well, I brought ya somethin’ better,” he said. “A bunch of mysteries ‘n historical fiction. I thought that’d be more yer thing.”

“Yes, absolutely,” Prowl replied and somehow he looked brighter, lighter. Jazz set the box down next to the crystals. “Thank you.”

“Y’re welcome,” Jazz said. “Why don’t ya show Prowl that picture ya been working on Sunny?”

“Oh, ya!” Sunstreaker exclaimed. He was excite as he pulled out his sketchpad and turned it on. “I drew crystals.”

“That is beautiful,” Prowl replied. Jazz sat down in the chair next to the berth as rested his ped on the edge. Sunstreaker showed Prowl all the little details he had been working on. Sideswipe told Prowl about the raise he had won. Prowl nodded along and smiled the barely perceptible smile. Jazz was getting an idea what sort of originator Prowl had been to his bitlet, a soft, patient and loving one. He hoped to Primus that Ostaros was somewhere for him to find. This originator ought to have his bitlet in his arms again. It was long overdue.

[ja-khajay]

Stuff I read (and liked) this year

As promised, here’s a list of the novels, comics, manga, etc... I read this year, focusing on the ones I enjoyed and would recommend to people. Under a cut, this is going to be a little long.

-------- Books --------

Favorite book of the year: Stranger in the Woods, by Michael Finkel

Non-fiction. Based on the interviews of the man himself by the author, it is about a man who felt so unfit for society he decided one day to leave it, and spent the next 28 years as a hidden hermit in forest in Maine. The book details how he survived there, how he was eventually found, and some of his reasons for doing so. It’s a great reflection on the nature of loneliness.

Indian creek, by Pete Fromm

...Yet another detailed tale of living alone in the woods. This time, the diary of a student who spent a winter in the mountains to help tend for salmon hatchlings, and how he spent the rest of his days hiking, hunting, meeting the locals. It’s a fun little book who, being set almost the whole world away from where I live, was a nice way to travel.

Howl’s Moving Castle, by Diana Wynne Jones

I don’t feel the need to explain this one since everyone and their mom has seen the movie adapted from it. The book, that I first read a decade ago before I actually watched the film, is a less romantized, more spirited telling of the same story. The writing is absolutely delightful and so is the world it paints, and it’s the first time in ages a book had me laughing out loud during my entire read.

-------- Comics (BD) --------

Favorite comic of the year: Monsieur Désire?, by Hubert and Virginie Augustin

A discreet young woman becomes a maid for a decadent, unbearable, byronesque young lord. Caked in the rigid and oppressive social hierarchy of the victorian era, you follow a mental and verbal joust between the two, as the lord tries his best to offend and corrupt his new unrelenting servant, to little success. The writing and especially the dialogues were stellar, drawing me into the tense atmosphere, watching this trainwreck of a character flamboyantly destroy himself. While there’s no precise content warnings that I can give, this is a mature and heavy story.

World of Edena, by Moebius

Anyone who’s followed this blog for over a month knows how much of a Moebius fan I am. Edena combines the vague, dreamlike, wordless storytelling from stuff like Arzach or The cat’s eyes with an actual plot. While I haven’t completly finished the story, the evolution of the main characters and how the story is told have been great to read through, and as always the art is beyond gorgeous. Unfortunately suffers from some good old sexism in the writing that even if minimal, tasted sour

Le roman de Renart, by Joan Sfar (book 1)

Sfar’s work always has a signature vibe of being dreamy and light without being light hearted, of being down to earth but drifting in the fantastical, and this one is no exception. It’s an adaption of a series of medieval folk tales I grew up with, who uses the same characters to tell an original story. If you’re familiar with icons like Renart as well as other mythological big boys like Merlin you’ll fit right in. There is something special in how the dialogues are written, who feel natural in a way that you’d overhear in a street corner and is very special to me.

The mercenary, by VIncente Segrelles

Another one I post about a lot on this blog. The mercenary is a king on the throne of fantasy cheese. The worldbuilding is interesting at times but the writing is a pretty pathetic display of glorious old time sword and sorcery sci-fantasy 10 years too late for it’s prime (warning for ye old sexism and orientalism that plagues the genre, cranked very high...) but you come and stay for the art. The entire thing is drawn in a series of hyper detailed oil paintings with an insane eye for technical detail, from the engineering of the weaponry, to the architecture and weather, to the anatomy of the fantasy creatures... Each panel stands out as it’s own painting which makes even flipping through it without reading the scenario a treat. Click here to see more of the art, in my Segrelles tag.

The ice maurauder, by Jacques Tardi

A short story about mad scientists entirely drawn like a 19th century engraving. In great Tardi tradition everyone is ugly and mean, it ends terribly, it’s both a hommage to the genre of late 19th cent. to early 1900s dramatic adventure novels and a critical eye on it, and it’s morbidly funny. Most people I saw online hated the way this was written but I’m not them and I really recommend this book. Die mad

-------- Manga --------

Favorite manga of the year: it’s a tie between the following two.

Cats of the Louvre, by Taiyo Matsumoto

Most wonderful comic I have read in ages. The story follows a bunch of semi-feral cats secretly living in the Louvre museum’s attic, and the small group of humans who share their life, walking through the museum as the night watch. When the cats are together, they are represented in a humanoid way, but still act like animals, and “become” cats again when a human is nearby. The plot is a sort of supernatural mystery centered around a kitten who walks around paintings. It’s a love letter to art, sincere and beautiful, with a unique art style and great characters.

Memoirs of amorous Gentlemen, by Moyoco Anno

A sex worker in early 20th century paris starts writing down a diary of the clients she meets, in a quest to cope with the troubles of her life. You follow her, her colleagues, and her bittersweet relationship with an abusive lover. I don’t have much words about this comic, but the art and writing both are amazing, it’s the perfect length and drew me in like little series had before. Obvious content warnings as this is an adult story that talks about sexuality, but also depicts both mental and physical abuse.

Hana, also by Taiyo Matsumoto 

A very short story, this was not made to be read as a comic originally, but served as storyboarding and visual development for a play, and the way it is written follows that. Hana is a slice of life story set in a fantasy world, of a young boy, his family, his village. Despite the setting being an original one, the character interactions are refreshingly... normal, and there is no huge plot to speak of, just a bit of the life of these characters. The art is beautiful, entirely black and white, with a scratchy style and an emphasis on contrast. Matsumoto is on a speedy road to becoming my favorite manga artist haha

Delicious in Dungeon, by Ryoko Kui

While not marked as my year’s favorite, I still consider this series among my favorite manga ever. The art and writing are amazing, and it’s both heartfelt, well concieved and plain hilarious. The story follows several parties of dungeon diving adventurers each on their little quests with a premise of our protagonists, on a panic rescue mission, surviving in the dungeon by cooking and eating the monsters they come across. From a DnD party turned cooking manual dinner of the week beginning, the plot creeps up on you and slowly thickens. I don’t want to spoil anything about the overarching story of this because it was a delight to discover for myself. While everything about DinD rules, I am especially fond of the design philosophy of the author, who puts great detail in the practicality and biology of what she draws, as well as the character writing. Everyone even side characters has so much charm and depth to them, the cast is so diverse and entertaining...! Each character is just a bit lame enough but endearing, and has their own little backstory that shows in the way they exist. It’s a delight

Chainsaw man, by Tatsuki Fujimoto

I went into CSM expecting a borderline campy hyperviolent dumb fun thing to read and was very surprised to find an uncomfortably well written story about a teenager being groomed. The hyperviolent dumb fun fights are here nonetheless and the series still qualifies as shonen for some reason, but the more mature character writing as well as some truly outlandish visuals make it something very special. If you can’t stand shonen, not sure you will like it, but if you don’t mind it, worth trying.

Witch hat atelier, by Kamome Shirahama

The oh so elegant fantasy seinen every cool kid started posting about this year, who I also succumbed to and fast. Witch hat is hard to explain, as most of it’s plot revolves around the rules of the world it’s set in, specifically the regulations around it’s magic and the social and historical reasons for them. It’s about growing up, learning, disability, making art. You follow a little girl taken in by a witch as an apprentice, her magical education, and learn little by little why her lovely teacher is so willing to break a lot of rules... While a bit too gentle and pretty for my taste at times, Witch hat has great worldbuilding and explores sensitive themes I rarely see in manga, much less in fantasy. And Berserk wishes it had art this good

[doctorgerth]

My request is Part II of Make Me, please!!!! THANK YOU!!!

It’s FINALLY here! This was surely a beast to tackle and Hawkins is a bitch to write for, but I hope I wrote this to your liking. I can’t apologize enough for you having to wait so long, all I can hope is that it was worth the wait! Thanks for requesting a part 2. It was my first time continuing something I’ve already written and though I might have beaten my head against the wall a few times, I really did enjoy it. ☺️

description: The tension between Hawkins and a certain kunoichi breaks. They fuck. That’s the plot. (female reader)

warnings: 18+ content / spoilers (kinda?) / explicit sexual content / explicit language / switch!Hawkins / restraints / choking / glove kink (if you squint) / foreplay / unprotected sex / rough sex / possibly ooc Hawkins

Part One 

Make Me pt. II (Basil Hawkins)

(look at Eru’s amazing gif!!!!! Ahh, I love it so much!)

Word Count: 3.7k

“Tell me your plans, or else.”

Even amidst the suffocating suspense, she wouldn’t dare let him take control just yet. With a roll of her hips, she ground her sex against his, eliciting a delicious moan from deep within him. If she played her cards right, she’d have him writhing underneath her in no time, forgetting all about this petty interrogation and even his own name.

“Do your worst.”

   Hawkins didn’t need the cards to tell him that he was going to fuck her right there in the interrogation room.

   Truthfully, he had consulted the cards earlier that morning for his daily reading, and when The Lovers card revealed itself, he had wondered if maybe he had gotten rusty in his tarot reading since arriving at Wano. Hawkins had been far too occupied with headliner duties, after all. That paired with his naturally withdrawn nature, he avoided any kind of romantic interactions (or rather, all interactions that didn’t involve work) with any denizen of Wano. That certainly included the countless courtesans Orochi had insisted on offering to both Hawkins and Drake as new headliners. Knowing these things, he simply disregarded the card entirely.

   Perhaps taking up such offers from any of those courtesans would have actually proved beneficial in the long run. Because in this moment, even if the probability of (Name) escaping freely afterwards was unmistakably high, he was utterly bewitched by her. All that occupied Hawkins’ thoughts were the temptations of her clothed cunt rubbing lecherously against him. Never had he felt more pathetic, giving in to such trivial desires he had otherwise easily suppressed in the past. Yet, he didn’t dare fight it. He couldn’t. Not when it was her.

   “You’re so hard for me already, Basil.” She cooed in confidence, eyes closed blissfully as she focused on grinding against his growing bulge.

   “Don’t talk.” He hissed through gritted teeth as his fingers dug helplessly into the meat of her thighs, moving her manually. He leaned back against the chair, mind hazy with a ravenous desire he hadn’t felt in quite some time; if ever. Maybe a quick release would help get his head back on straight and he’d finally get some valuable information out of her. If he’d have any ounce of willpower after this exchange, that is.

   She hummed in delight and could feel her panties begin to dampen the more he controlled her movements with newfound desperation. His breathing became ragged as he basked in her intoxicating heat. Low groans escaped from the back of his throat into the open air as she met his movements with a teasingly slow roll of her hips, greedy for more of his erotic gasps.

   They continued like this for some time, exchanging breathy pants of pleasure as they moved in time, simply grinding their bodies against one another. The two were conscious of their delirious repressions. Stress, frustration, the looming danger that was polluting the Wano atmosphere; all of it could be felt in the way they moved against each other. Desperate for each other’s touch. Yearning for release.

   “Your subordinates could come in any minute-”

   His hand flew to the back of her neck, pulling her down until their foreheads collided with a soft thud, noses touching, “I said, don’t talk.” He growled as he drew her in, at last claiming the lips he had dreamed of all these years.

   Their lips moved together in haste, attracting each other like magnets. It didn’t take long before they had to pull away for air, only to return with increased fervor, the kiss intensifying with each passing second. His lips felt so soft, just like she had remembered. Soft and supple, with a hint of maple. An effect of his straw abilities, she had assumed. Either way, it was deliciously tantalizing and she knew she’d end the night drunk off his taste. A warm and inviting buzz was already numbing her to the core.

   His back found its way against the chair as she pushed against him, trapping him between the chair and herself. She pulled away, her lips red and puffy from the sweet abuse.

   (Name) smirked down at him, “I can’t exactly strip with my hands bound like this, ya know.”

   He inhaled deeply through his nose, and slowly exhaled through his mouth, as if attempting to regain his composure. She rather enjoyed, perhaps more than she’d care to admit, witnessing the enigmatic blonde in such a disheveled state. It was gratifying to know that she had such a titillating effect on him.

   “I suppose I could help you. Give me any trouble and you’ll be sure to face the consequences.”

   “Though I do like the sound of that... I’ll be a good girl, I swear.” She leaned down to his ear, “Unless you want me to be bad?”

   “As if I’d let you.” A sudden ripping sound brought her attention downwards and she gasped as she observed his straw powers tearing away at her clothes, discarding them haphazardly into piles on the floor. The feeling of the straw on her skin once again was strangely arousing, especially as it crept along her more private areas in teasing manners.

   He sighed in, what sounded to (Name) like, disappointment, thus bringing her attention back to him. Stiffening underneath her, his eyes flickered from her to the deep purple lingerie that she sported. He looked almost dejected, but she could never be sure with him.

   “Is this for someone else?”

   She stifled a laugh, amused by his chagrin, “Just laundry day. Don’t worry, it’s all for you to enjoy.”

   She noticed the tiniest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips and as she tried to savor it, just as she blinked, it quickly faded to his default bored, pouty lip. Hawkins seemed to be in deep thought as his hands reached up hesitantly to observe the fabric. It looked incredibly soft and intricate, he was actually impressed by the design, but more so overwhelmed by how stunning she looked in it. Hawkins was always an enthusiast of lingerie aesthetics, it truly felt as if fate was mocking him.

   “May I?”

   She yanked at his hands and settled them along her chest with urgency. He held back a contented sigh as he gently felt along the fabric, squeezing and grasping at her breasts, appreciating the look and feel of them in the seductive attire. Light mewls escaped her lips as his hands felt electrifying against her skin. Such simple touches left her frenzied with desire, and she failed to recall a time she was ever left so sensitive to anyone’s touch.

   The bra was low cut, just barely covering her pert nipples that were already peeking above the lace, begging to be released of their confines. He pulled the fabric down to just below her breasts, letting them spill out. He took his gloved hand to her nipple, intrigued to observe her reactions. Two fingers pinched at the hardened bud, rolling it between his gloved fingertips. She inhaled sharply, head lolling backwards as she encouraged him on. His hold on her nipple tightened and he pinched harder, twisting and tweaking at it with ardor.

   Captivated by the smooth skin of her stretched neck, Hawkins leaned forward to trail sharp kisses along it, undoubtedly leaving bruises in their wake. He trailed down her throat, clavicle, and finally made home at her breast as he latched on, taking the bud softly between his teeth. A loud moan escaped her now and he eyed up at her, observing how her mouth hung open and she continued to lean backwards, a silent request for him to continue his ministrations. His free hand flew to her back, supporting her and holding her in place as she opened her chest up to him.

   “Basil…” She whispered pleasurably into the air.

   He hummed in response, enamored with the way his name dripped off her lips like nectar. Hawkins wanted to keep her like this forever; her body fitting wonderfully in his arms, her skin littered in goosebumps, her siren call of his name. He took his time, making sure to capture each look she offered, each sound she made in order to store these memories into the depths of his mind.

   “Please, more.” She cried out, lifting her head up and staring at him below her. With long lashes peeking from behind blonde curtains, he looked absolutely stunning as he held her, both in his arms and between his teeth. Her cunt fluttered at the sight.

   He studied her face, the way her eyes stared down at him with pure lust. Giving her breast one last squeeze, he trailed his gloved hand down the lacey fabric, reaching behind and curving along the swell of her ass until his fingers reached her dripping core. He rubbed at her eagerly, trailing and prodding two fingers along the damp cloth. Her hips bucked, another silent plea for more. Easily sliding her panties to the side, he traced around her warm entrance before slipping a slender digit inside, taking his time in entering her knuckle-deep.

   “Mm!” She whined as her body jolted at his entry. His long finger explored her cavern as it slipped between her walls, curling ever so slightly with its exit.

   “So tight…” He whispered dreamily to himself against her skin. Resting his forehead against her chest, he slid in and out of her at an agonizing pace, simply enjoying the way she squeezed around his finger with each entry.

   “I’m tired of you hiding from me, Basil.” Her voice grew shaky as he did not hesitate to add another digit inside, “It’s no fun being naked alone.”

   It was a bit tasking as her hands were still bound, but she managed to rip his shirt in similar fashion to his ripping of hers earlier. The tattered shirt hung loosely on him, revealing smooth, pale skin that she was more than excited to get her claws on. He looked up at her, a hint of anger in those crimson eyes that only made her clamp around those fingers in wanton.

   Reaching down to his pants now, she struggled with removing the sash until Hawkins grabbed her hands roughly, “Stand up.” 

   She was surprisingly quick to comply as she rose to her feet, watching him remove his shirt swiftly, and taking mental snapshots of the dents and divots of his beautifully sculpted torso. His skin looked like marble. Hawkins was smooth and lean, yet there was still an undeniable strength evident in the curves of his muscles. He could have easily passed as a statue before her, and she marveled at him as such.

   “Turn around.” This time, she was a bit hesitant to follow orders as she wanted to spectate his removing of his pants, but she knew it’d be best to listen to him if she wanted to get her way.

   The sound of various clothing falling to the floor made her ears perk up and it took everything within her not to turn around to catch a peek. She remained obedient, however, waiting for his next orders. When the binds around her wrists disappeared, her interest piqued.

   “Turn around and remove the rest. Slowly.”

   As she obeyed, a warm heat danced in her body as she admired how nearly god-like he looked sitting in the chair, stark naked. She licked her lips at his hardened cock making itself known between his thighs. He was thicker than she’d expect for such a lean man, and the length was definitely something to boast about. Not that a man like Hawkins ever would, which, in turn, only made him all the more desirable. As if reading her thoughts, he smirked, “Don’t make me wait any longer.”

   Gathering herself, she did as he commanded and made a point to take her time in stripping for him. Unclasping the bra in the back, she allowed the straps to fall down her shoulders before swiftly discarding it to the floor. It was hard to not be distracted by the way he touched himself, intently watching her every move and giving his dick a few slow pumps. Nevertheless, her fingers hooked underneath the band of her panties and she maintained eye contact as she pulled them agonizingly slow down her thighs, then kicked them off with her feet.

   He was amused at her brazen nature. How she never shied away from him, especially now as she stood entirely bare in front of him. Instead, she allowed him to ogle her body, towering confidently as his eyes meticulously traced her every curve. Hawkins had half a mind to continue the show, observe her as he ordered her to touch herself. Though at this point, he was far too eager to do it himself.

   “Sit.”

   “My, you move fast, Basil. I don’t think I’m ready.” She had hoped he didn’t hear the nervous quake in her voice.

   “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you are well prepared.” As she approached, he swiftly flipped her around and settled her bare ass in his lap, just in front of his twitching cock. She could feel it throbbing against her backside and her entire body burned red hot in consequence.

   Gently, he grabbed her arms to lock them behind his head. He nuzzled his face into her neck, taking in her sweet scent and placing a tender kiss along a mark that had just begun to bloom from his ministrations earlier, “You feel amazing. I think I’ll keep you just like this.”

   He promptly used his powers to bound her wrists once more, locking her arms in place. (Name) gasped as the stretch was a bit uncomfortable, but she came to enjoy the warm fire that burned in her belly. He then hooked her legs over his knees, driving them outwards in order to spread her open completely. He took advantage of his abilities yet again in order to secure her ankles around his calves, ultimately granting him easy access to explore every inch of her body. His gloved fingers immediately traveled south to toy with her sensitive button, while his right hand crept up to fondle her breasts.

   High-pitched whines escaped her as she struggled against the restraints. With her hands bound behind her and Hawkins keeping her legs spread widely apart, she felt utterly vulnerable to his affections and on the verge of overstimulation. She didn’t, couldn’t keep back her cries of his name while he rubbed vigorous circles onto her clit. Her pussy throbbed, clamping down onto nothing over and over as his hand crept further up to caress her throat, squeezing just tight enough to strangle her cries yet grant her enough air to breathe.

   His damp forehead fell against her cheek and she shivered as she felt his incredibly warm breath on her skin. He plunged two fingers inside her, while using his thumb to keep special attention on her clit, “Fuck! Basil, I-I’m gonna-”  

   He squeezed tighter around her throat, restricting her airflow for only a second or two, all the while increasing the intensity of her impending orgasm, “Let go.”

   As if releasing her from a spell, she did exactly that. Coming undone on his fingers with what would have been a loud cry if he hadn’t held such a firm grip. As he loosened his hold, she focused on her breathing, whining as his fingers exited from her abused and soaked cunt. He freed her from her restraints for the second time, but she hardly had the strength to move as she fell slack against his body, still working on catching her breath.

   He couldn’t help but chuckle, “Don’t tell me you’ve given up? I’m hardly done with you.”

   After a moment, she smirked and stretched her body, turning to face him, “I say it’s time to get you prepared.”

   He peered up at her, intrigued by her statement. She licked her lips, wasting no time in taking his dick in her hands to give it a few encouraging pumps. He hissed loudly at the contact, an electric wave of pleasure shocking his entire body. She dropped to her knees, leaning down to take his cock into her mouth.

   “You don’t have to-” He choked on his words as she abruptly took him inside her mouth, enthusiastically coating his dick with her saliva. She took him in as much as possible and he gripped at her hair as he focused on not coming on the spot. Damn, how long had it been since his last release?

   She could probably tell he was close already since she only sucked him off for a few seconds more. As she arose, she made quick movements to settle herself on top of him, grabbing at his soaked cock to place it at her entrance. His gaze followed her, challenging her. It was far too late to turn back, they both were well aware. There was a brief moment of hesitancy, but as his cock twitched shamelessly in her hand, they knew they were far from throwing in the towel.

   (Name) slid down onto his member, the both of them moaning out in unified bliss at the feeling of at last being connected. They remained still as they gathered their breaths, taking a moment to adjust, and reveled in the intimate feeling of each other. She was inconceivably warm and tight. Hawkins had to mentally remind himself to breathe.

   As she regained her composure, she began a steady rhythm of bouncing in his lap, eliciting the most delicious moans she’d heard from him yet. His eyes closed tight in intense pleasure and she was confident she now had him fully under her control.

   “Still worried about my, mmm, affiliation with the Straw Hats?” She panted with a smirk, “Who knew you had a thing for sleeping with the enemy~”

   He scoffed breathlessly, securing his strong arms around her to pull her in close. (Name) couldn’t help but gasp as his soft lips ghosted over her own, seeking her out in the midst of their tangled passions. He traveled along her skin with gentle strokes of his lips and tongue, “Only you.”

   A violent shiver coursed through her as those two words echoed loudly in her brain. Had she heard him right? Just what did that mean? Her mind was now a dizzying storm of questions. Her movements had slacked in consequence, and as she realized, she forced him back against the chair in order to pick up the pace.

   Slender fingers wrapped around his throat and squeezed gently. She shivered once more as his ruby eyes offered her sweet submission and his lips curved upward into a teasing grin, “Tighter.”

   She bit her lip to suppress her whimper, all the while she gripped his throat tighter as per his request until his eyes fluttered close; a look of utmost bliss painted along his face. (Name) rode him with intensity, her lips spilling out shameless praises and calls of his name as she angled herself in order for him to hit all the right spots. Her grip remained firm, and the vibrations of his strangled moans drove her closer to the precipice.

   His grip around her suddenly tightened and his breathing became staccato, a sure sign that he was close as well. Her legs were aching, and just as they were about to give in, Hawkins adjusted his hips so he could thrust up and into her from below. The pair moaned loudly, nearly in sync as he fucked her relentlessly. She was first to fall over the edge, Hawkins made sure of that. As her tight cunt squeezed around his cock, he followed suit merely seconds afterward, pulling out to paint her abdomen white.

   (Name) fell against his chest in utter exhaustion and Hawkins held her against him. Her fingers mindlessly threaded through his hair as the pair basked in the afterglow. His thumb brushed over her lip, pulling her up to him for one last searing kiss. She smiled against his lips, savoring one last drop of him for the night. She was inebriated beyond comprehension; a little unsure if she could walk home properly. His demeanor returned to neutrality and looking at him, it was almost hard to believe she had him a moaning mess just moments before.

   “Am I free to go, Mr. Headliner?”

   He sighed, deep in concentration. Keeping her still in his lap, he reached over to gather his loose articles, or rather, what was left of them. Not much remained of her worn clothing and though his own left little to be desired, it’d be enough to cover her until she could retrieve new clothes.

   “That depends. Do you plan to return these most treasured clothes of mine? I could have you thrown in jail for collusion and thievery.” His eyes gleamed with mischief as he cleaned her off and helped her get dressed, trying his absolute hardest not to ravish her all over again from the alluring sight of her draped in his clothing. She’d surely be the death of him.

   (Name) scoffed with an amused smile, “Think you could possibly capture me again, Basil?”

   He guided her towards the exit, “I believe the probability that I’d let you escape me twice is lower than you think.”

She leaned in, tracing along the prominent red lines she had etched onto his chest. In a low, sultry voice, she whispered, “And what’s the probability that you’ll interrogate me again?”

Hawkins went ramrod stiff. His eyes were easily drawn to her lips and any second longer in that heated tension, he would have taken her right there, all over again. Thankfully, her sweet laughter suppressed the carnal desire that was threatening to consume him once more. She was somehow life and death, simultaneously.

   “Well, let’s leave all the probabilities for your cards to decide. You might like what they have to show you.” She winked before swiftly escaping through the window.

   After her departure, Hawkins closed the window quickly, placing his forehead against the cool glass. He stood like that for some time, replaying every detail of their session over and over until he became overwhelmed. How Hawkins, a dignified man dedicated to his duties, could let such a paramount criminal escape so easily was baffling. Even still, despite all consequences of his careless actions, all he could think about was seeing her again. She lingered on his skin. The touch, smell, and taste of her would not be so easily washed away. Not that he wished her to be.

   He retrieved his discarded cloak to wrap around his bare body, and as he opened the door to some rather bashful subordinates who could hardly look him in the eye, he paid no mind, barking out orders to cut through the awkward tension.

   “Fetch me some new clothes and my deck of cards. I wish to be alone for the rest of the evening.”

[imnotusedtobeingloved]

THAT’S ROUGH, BUDDY.

(PLEASE DON’T REPOST/REBLOG)

Warnings: heartbreak, betrayal.

Pairing: Zuko x f!Reader

Characters: Zuko, Katara, Aang, Toph, Sokka, Uncle Iroh (mentioned).

Requested: I guess?

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor the gif. Credit to the owners.

Summary: Part seven of “destiny is a funny thing”.

previous part

A/N: Hey guys! It’s part seven already! Let’s see how long i can keep this up lol. Have fun reading!

The steaming hot liquid in the pot reminded you of a long time ago. Of a small tea shop in the Earth Kingdom to be more specific. And so did the boy that poured it.

“No one can make tea like Uncle, but hopefully I learned a thing or two. Would you like to hear Uncle’s favorite tea joke?” He balanced a tray full of cups as well as a kettle. “Sure,” Katara said. “I like jokes,” Aang agreed and Toph didn’t seem unenthusiastic either. “Bring it!”

“Okay,” Zuko nodded, serving tea to the Duke and Haru before standing up, holding the tray. “Well, I can’t remember how it starts, but the punch line is “Leaf me alone, I’m bushed!”

The group stared at him. Silently.

“Well, it’s funnier when Uncle tells it,”

“Right ...” Katara dragged out the word. “Maybe that’s because he remembers the whole thing,” And as the rest of the group started laughing, Zuko gave a small smile. “It’s nice to get a chance to relax a little. It hardly ever happens,” Toph said, grabbing the cup Zuko handed her, before he approached Sokka. “Hey, can I talk to you for a second?" Your eyes followed the Water Tribe boy as he walked out, shortly followed by the prince. “What was that about?” You furrowed your brows, turning to Katara. “I don’t know,” She shrugged, sipping on her tea. “Hopefully my brother isn’t plotting anything stupid,”

The Team stayed gathered together around the fire until the sun left the sky and the night broke in.

Soon you were cuddled into your warm sleeping bag, the fire long since diminished. Your brows furrowed unconsciously upon a distant rustle, mind still foggy from your dreams. Drifting away once more, your features relaxed, only to be interrupted again seconds later. Sleepily you blinked your eyes open, trying to see through the dark with a cloudy vision.

It was probably nothing, you thought, turning around onto your other side, and the last thing you saw was the empty bedroll next to you...

Wait.

Empty?

You shot up, getting tangled in the sheets and tumbling over before you caught yourself. Careful not to wake the others, you stood up, looking around.

Where could he have gone? Had he left and betrayed you again? But how would he even get away?

You shook your head at the thought before it occurred to you. Appa! He wouldn’t, would he? You ran towards the bisons sleeping spot, heart beating rapidly, as if you didn’t know what to fear more: Finding Appa gone, or the prince.

Your lungs ached as you rounded the last corner, where you found the bison, fast asleep. A breath of relief passed your lips, walking up to him and crawling the soft furr next to his snout, to which he purred quietly. Suddenly a head appeared above the saddle, prompting a startled gasp from you. “(Y/N)?”

“Zuko!” You hissed, a hand over your chest. “What are you doing here?” The shadow questioned looming over you. “I’m the one that should be asking that question!” You pulled yourself up to the saddle, sick of him staring down at you. He grabbed your arm, pulling you up and finally explained when you landed next to him. “I have the feeling that Sokka might be up to something,” He drew his hood back and furrowed his brows. “Up to what exactly?” You searched his appearance for any indications, but he didn’t give anything away. “He asked me about the war-prisoners today. Where they would be put away,” Your eyes widened. “The Boiling Rock,” He nodded. “Exactly. I have the suspicion that he might try to-”

Your whispers where interrupted by silent steps in the distance and a quiet “Shhh,” from below. You and Zuko shared a look as someone climbed up, and eventually peaked over the rim of the saddle. “Not up to anything, huh?” The prince asked, arms crossed. Sokka fell, with a stiffled scream, his bags content spilling out on the floor. He gave you a resigned look. “Fine, you caught me. I’m gonna rescue my dad. You happy now?”

“No!” You exclaimed, while Zuko took an entirely different approach. “I’m never happy,”

"Look, I have to do this. The invasion plan was my idea, it was my decision to stay when things were going wrong,” The prince raised a brow at his words and jumped down from the saddle. “It’s my mistake, and it’s my job to fix it. I have to regain my honor. You can’t stop me, Zuko. And neither can you (Y/N),” He pushed Zuko aside, beginning to climb up to you. ”You need to regain your honor?” The prince questioned. “Believe me, I get it. I’m going with you,”

“No. I have to do this alone,”

You put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it softly. “No, you don’t, Sokka. We’re all in this together. We’re here for you,” Zuko nodded, motioning to the bison. “And besides, how are you going to get there? On Appa? Last time I checked, prisons don’t have bison daycares,” The boy looked between the two of you, before he sighed, shoulders slumping. "We’ll take my war balloon,” Zuko gestured for you to follow him, before leading the way.

The travel to the Boiling Rock remained silent for the most part.

Sokka had sat down on stack of boxes, while you leaned against the railing. Zuko blasted fire into the tank from time to time, making sure it kept moving. But eventually even the silence got deafening. “Pretty clouds,” Sokka spoke up. “Yeah ... fluffy,” You resisted the urge to slap a hand against your forehead, while Sokka whistled. "What?” Zuko said, giving him a look. “What? Oh, I didn’t say anything. You know, a friend of mine actually designed these war balloons,”

“No kidding,” The prince raised his brows. “Yep, a balloon ... but for war,” Zuko blasted more fire into the tank. “If there’s one thing my dad’s good at, it’s war,”

“Yeah, it seems to run in the family,” The firebender gave him a defensive look. “Hey, hold on. Not everyone in my family is like that,” Sokka held his hands up. “I know, I know, you’ve changed,” The prince lowered his gaze, shacking his head slightly. “I meant my uncle. He was more of a father to me. And I really let him down,” He gave you an indefinable look, but he redirected his attention so quick that you wondered wheter you’d just imagined it.

“I think your uncle would be proud of you. Leaving your home to come help us? That’s hard,” The boy argued, fumbling with his boomerang. “It wasn’t that hard,” Sokka’s head shot up. “Really? You didn’t leave behind anyone you cared about?”

“Well, I did have a girlfriend. Mai,” You bit your lip to keep quiet, waiting for his next words. “We tried for some time but it didn’t work out. It wasn’t what I wanted,” He seemed to have more to say, but Sokka interrupted with a sly smile. “That gloomy girl who sighs a lot?”

"Yeah,” Zuko confirmed, giving you a quick glance that went unnoticed. “My first girlfriend turned into the moon,” Zuko’s brows shot up before he briefly looked into the sky. “That’s rough, buddy,” He said, eyes landing back on Sokka. “What about you, (Y/N)?” You grew stiff, staring at Sokka’s face. “Me?��

“Yes, what about you? Any lovers in sight?” You crossed your arms, taking a moment to think. Zuko’s burning eyes roamed over your silhouette, but you didn’t dare meet his eyes. “No,” You answered eventually, lowering your head. “No one,”

By nightfall Sokka had fallen asleep, preventing you to do so with his loud snores.

Zuko was busying himself with keeping the tank full, while you took a look out in the distance.

“There it is!” You alerted the others, pointing towards the large construction. The Water Tribe boy awakened from his slumber, staggering over to see it. ”There’s plenty of steam to keep us covered. As long as we’re quiet, we should be able to navigate through it without being caught,” Zuko plotted. But as you entered the volcano’s steam, the balloon began to lose altitude quickly. “We’re going down! The balloon’s not working anymore!” Zuko blasted fire up into the balloon, but with no avail. “The air outside is just as hot as the air inside so we can’t fly!” You said, grabbing his arm to stop him. “So what are we supposed to do?” His gaze flew from you to Sokka. “I don’t know!” He said. “Crash-landing?”

The balloon skidded along the boiling water, splashing Sokka’s hand, which he shook while you put a hand over his mouth to keep him from screaming. Your aircraft hit the base of the rock, throwing you out in the process. You moaned, getting up and rubbed your sore hip. “How are we gonna get off the island if the balloon won’t work?” Zuko groaned, looking at the destroyed object. Sokka seemed to be more optimistic. “We’ll figure something out! I suspected it might be a one-way ticket,” The fire bender furrowed his brows. “You knew this would happen and you wanted to come anyway?”

“My dad might be here! I had to come and see!” Sokka walked towards the destroyed remains of the balloon. “Uncle always said I never thought things through. But this ... this is just crazy!”

“Hey, I never wanted you to come along in the first place! And for the record, I always think things through! But my plans haven’t exactly worked, so this time, I’m playing it by ear. So there,” He said gathering the balloon and throwing it into the water. ”What are you doing?”

“It doesn’t work anyway,” He shrugged. “And we don’t want anyone to find it,” You sighed. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” You turned towards the prison. “There’s no turning back now,”

By the time the sun came up, the three of you had found a supply room, stacked with reserve guard uniforms.

“I hope these disguises work,” Zuko said, voice muffled by the mask. “We just need to lay low and find my dad as soon as possible,” Sokka said, blue orbs peaking out of the slit. They were just as beautiful as Katara’s. Your head whipped around whe a series of guards ran by, one coming back to look at your team. “Guards! There’s a scuffle in the yard. Come on,” He gestured wildly. Prisoners were gathered in the yard, forming a circle as the guards moved through to the inside.

“I didn’t do anything! I’m going back to my cell,” A tall man called, as a guard whipped fire in his direction. “Stop right there, Chit Sang,” Zuko tried to approach, but your hand shot forward to stop him. “We can’t blow our cover,” You whispered.

“I’ve had it with your unruly behavior!” The guard yelled, getting more riled up by the second. “What did I do?” Chit Sang asked. “He wants to know what he did,” The guard gloated, looking at you. ”Isn’t that cute?" His face grew sour when none of you answered and your tongue felt tied, prompting you to nudge Zuko in the side. “Uh, very cute, sir,”

“Super cute,” Sokka added. The guard walked up to Chit Sang, getting into his face. “You didn’t bow down when I walked by, Chit Sang!” The man looked confused. “What? That’s not a prison rule,”

“Do it!”

“Make me,” The guard growled walking away, but not without whipping fire at the male. Chit Sang blocked it, redirecting the flame to its owner, who broke it with a kick. “Tsk, tsk. Firebending is prohibited. You’re going in the cooler,” He ordered. “You! Help me take him in,”

“Meet back here in an hour,” Sokka whispered to you and Zuko before following the command.

But you didn’t meet in an hour.

In fact, not even you and Zuko managed to stay together, soon being pulled into two different directions due to commands. While you ended up in the weaponry, you had no idea were the others went. “Not your first time doing this, huh?” A guard leaned against the wall next to you, arms crossed. You gave him a brief look, before you resumed sharpening the swords and knifes. “Not really,” He took his helmet off, raising a brow. “How come?” You shrugged, not meeting his gaze. “I’m a non-bender. You need to know your weapons if you want to defend yourself,”

“True,” he inclined his head, taking a knife of his own and starting to prepare it. “I’m impressed. Not many non-benders manage to get employed at the Boiling Rock. Normally they prefer fire benders,” You hummed, grabbing fire the next weapon. “Guess I must be special then,” The guard gave you an amused grin. “You don’t have to wear the mask in here by the way. It’s more of a representative part,” You choose to ignore his comment, instead trying to redirect the conversation. “Hey, can I ask you something? It’s all pretty new to me and I didn’t get to explore everything yet,”

The thought didn’t seem to bother him, featured remaining relaxed. “Sure, rookie. Ask away,” You subtily cleared your throat, attempting not to sound suspicious. “I know the Boiling Rock holds the Fire Nations most dangerous criminals. But what about war prisoners? Do they end up here as well?”

The man shrugged. “If they make it this far... probably,”

“So...” You swallowed. “Any Water Tribe inmates here?” He huffed a short laugh. “You’re pretty interested in those prisoners for a guard,”

“Am I? Shouldn’t I know who I’m watching over?” He shrugged. “I guess so. You’re just very specific about it,” It was time to shut up, you concluded, grabbing a knife. “Well, anyways, thank you for the-” The words god stuck in your throat when you saw Zuko passing by through the window in the door. If you hadn’t been convinced by his amber eyes, then for sure by the time you saw his scar.

“I have to go.” You muttered, subtly slipping the weapon into your pocket. “Hey! Wait up!” The guard yelled rushing after you. You’d just managed to slip through the door, when he grabbed your upper arm. A few seconds later and you would’ve managed to blend in with the others in the lounge. “You can’t just leave. Your work isn’t done yet,”

“Sorry,” you retorted, desperate to reunite with your group. “but I can’t stay.” You rammed your elbow into his ribs, knocking the air out if his lungs. The halls were empty, thanks to the midday meal everyone joined. If you’d manage to lock him into the weaponry you could leave undetected.

You grabbed him, shoving him back into the room and slamming the door shut, before sticking the knife through the handle and using your fire to heat up the metal, sealing it shut. You breathed a relieved sigh as he banged his fists against the door and turned around, colliding with a large chest.

“What do we have here?” The man grinned, locking you in a tight grip that made you squeeze your eyes shut. "I arrive late to the break one time, and there's already trouble," He produced a flame, melting the blockade. The guard you’d locked in opened the door, his face distorted in anger. “She locked me into the weaponry, asked a lot of questions and lied about being a non bender,” He spat, glaring at you.

“Well,” the male behind you said. “What do you want do with this imposter?” The guard snarled.

“Throw her into the cooler!”

tags:  @zvkonation​ @viva-la-millennia​ @randomness501​ @drheinzd​ @kaylove12​ @duh-dobrik​ @yeetscreetiwannaeat​ @ ashnkamfeun    @hailkyoshi​ @shortmexicangirl​ @animexholic​ @sorrythatspussynal​

[ladyanput]

Clues to My Heart

 This is based off of a prompt I read from @thanks-captain-obvious back in December.

Thanks to @chocolate1721 and @2sunchild2 for finding all of my stupid mistakes.

---

Adrien didn’t know when he realized how cute Marinette was, but he came to realize that he was watching her a lot more than usual. He liked how when she was really deep into her designing zone, she stuck her tongue out in concentration. He adored how when she was getting nervous or embarrassed, she’d tug at one of her adorable pigtails. 

   

As soon as he entered the classroom that morning, Marinette was making her way down the steps. She tripped over her own foot and went tumbling forward, a look of horror washed over her face as she went plummeting. Adrien bolted forward and caught her in his arms, causing them to be nose to nose, gazing deep into each other’s eyes. Adrien couldn’t help but stare into her large, sapphire blue eyes staring back at him.

   

“Are you okay?” He breathed out, feeling his cheeks burn from embarrassment as he steadied her, then took a quick step back. “Good thing I was there to catch you.”

   

“Lucky me. Thank you, Adrien.” Marinette gave that warm, perfect smile before she picked up the pencil she had dropped and returned to her seat.

    “Marinette looks really cute today.” Adrien mumbled to himself in an almost dreamy tone, quickly catching both Alya and Nino’s attention. Before the model could say another word, the duo grabbed him and dragged him to the back of the class, while Marinette was lost in her drawing in her sketchbook while she waited for class to notice them leave. 

   

“You think she looks cute?” Alya pressed a hand to Adrien’s chest, giving him a stern look as her eyes watched his expression carefully. Then she saw the look he got on his face, the look she had seen on Marinette’s face for the past four years every time she thought, saw, or talked of Adrien. It was like seeing a little lovesick golden retriever and Alya wanted to laugh at the irony. But her eyes sparked with excitement at the thought of her ship finally, at long last, would come to life. “You need to tell her, Adrien.” 

   

“Wh-what? No, I can’t do that, she thinks we’re just friends!” Adrien squeaked, drawing the attention of their other classmates. Thank God Lila was off on another one of her ‘trips’ in Brazil or whatever. Rose suddenly ripped part of her shirt, making sure it was a decently sized one before she darted down to Marinette, tapping her shoulder. 

   

“Marinette, I ripped my favourite shirt! Do you have your sewing kit with you today?” Rose’s sweet voice took on a pleading tone as she grasped Marinette’s hand tightly, giving her a kind smile. 

   

“Oh, I should have it in my locker, but class will be starting soon…” Marinette trailed off, but when she saw the pleading look on Rose’s face, she let out a defeated sigh and got up. “Alright, I’ll go grab it right quick. You don’t mind telling Miss Bustier, right?”

   

“Don't worry, Mari, we’ll cover you!” Kim called out, having a plotting grin on his face as well. The entire class had that look in their eyes, thinking something they had been hoping for for so long would finally come to light.

   

When Marinette did leave the room, everyone swarmed around Adrien with big goofy grins on their faces.

   

“Marinette has had a crush on you for years, dude.” Kim wrapped an arm around Adrien’s shoulder, grinning like a fool as everyone else nodded in agreement. ‘We kept quiet about it out of respect, but since you feel the same way…”

   

Adrien’s mind felt like it was suddenly spinning. Marinette liked him back. Marinette liked him, Adrien Agreste, while he had thought she had hated being anywhere near him! And here he thought that she had been in love with Luka…

   

“Marinette is quite romantic at heart.” Alya’s voice pushed away his thoughts and made him refocus on the conversations going on wildly around him. The reporter’s eyes were full of mischief and Adrien could practically see the gears turning in her head, her grin growing more and more devious. “You should do a grand gesture, Adrien, something that will sweep her off her feet. Then when she accepts your confession, it will be like a fairytale!” 

   

“Like prince charming declaring his love for his princess.” Rose sighed dreamily and leaned into Juleka’s embrace, who kissed her forehead with a smile. “Oh Marinette would love that! She’s told all of us all of the things she’s wanted to do for you, Adrien, how many times she’s tried to confess…”

   

“How about a scavenger hunt?” Adrien blurted out, then felt his cheeks go rosy as he felt several eyes land on him, he gave a nervous smile as he ran his fingers through his hair. "You know, send her to places that were significant to her and I? Stuff like that?"

"That sounds pretty great, actually." Alix grinned as she thought it over before nodding. "Yeah, that'd kick ass."

With wide grins, the class began to plot the entire thing with a flustered, starry eyed Adrien.

…

They set it all up on Friday, so that if something went horribly wrong, they'd have the weekend to do damage control. Extra precautions never hurt anyone.

Alya managed to convince Marinette to clear her schedule for that evening, since she had a special game planned. Marinette, not wanting to turn her best friend down, wholeheartedly agreed. One afternoon never hurt anyway, she needed a bit of a break from everything that was going on.

As soon as the last class of the day ended, Alya handed the girl a piece of paper and told her to just follow the clues.

Marinette glanced down at the scrap of paper and carefully read the words.

'To where you have your secret Garden of inspiration, I often see your beautiful face light up in joy.'

Marinette's brows drew together at the wording of the note, then wracked her brain to where this 'garden of inspiration' could be. Then it hit her. The Trocadero.

She giggled as she made her way towards the location, curious at what kind of games Alya was playing. Her friend always came up with these random types of things on occasion, so she didn't look too much into it.

Marinette quickly arrived at the Trocadero, then smiled to herself as she made her through the crowd, enjoying the activity of people around her. She hadn't been here in months and she had missed it greatly.

"Excuse me, Miss Marinette?" The girl blinked and turned, seeing a tall, lanky looking woman stride up to her, holding a pink envelope. The woman grinned and tipped her tiny top hat as she held out the envelope. "I have your next clue."

"Oh, thank you." Marinette took the envelope and opened it, scanning the contents of what was written.

'While pyjamas were not the right thing to wear, so to say

Seeing that movie with you made my day.'

Marinette glanced heavenward, silently groaning at the state of these riddles. Alya certainly wasn't at her best today.

Besides, Marinette could think of only one movie she had seen in her pyjamas that wouldn't be appropriate, so she made her way to the cinema. While very glad she hadn't made many plans that evening, this scavenger hunt seemed to be taking her all over Paris. As soon as she saw the cinema in sight, she picked up the pace, 

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng?" A tall man wearing a suit strode over, holding out a familiar looking pink envelope. He gave her a jovial grin and bowed. "I hope you find your next location swiftly."

"Thank you very much." Marinette called out, then had to chuckle at the outfits these clue holders had to wear. Fancy suits and top hats were a bit much, how had Alya been able to pay for all of this?

'To where we first met, with gum on the seat

To think today, you make my heart skip a beat.'

"Tikki, I can't quite make this one out." Marinette sighed as she made her way down the street, Tikki poking her head out of Marinette's purse. "I think it means DuPont, I mean, that's where I first met Alya."

"Are you sure these are from Alya, Marinette? Maybe they're from someone else." Tikki smiled up at her chosen, having a fair idea who exactly these clues and this entire scheme was from, but she decided to keep quiet about it. It was best to simply let Marinette experience this on her own, have a bit of fun for once in a while.

So Marinette jogged her way towards DuPont, beaming as she reminisced in the memories. This was the starting place for everything in her life; her friends, her designing career, her backbone, and even becoming Ladybug.

This place was special to her. So imagine her surprise when she neared the front of the school and heard the sound of a bell. She stopped, and watched in surprise as Andre's ice cream cart made its way towards her, Andre having a huge smile on his face. He stopped right in front of Marinette, blocking her view of DuPont.

"Hello, my dear Marinette. It has been so long and look at you! Grown into a beautiful flower and who knows? Perhaps she will see her soulmate very soon" Andre said cheerfully, hugging the surprised girl, before giving her a long, calculated look. He had a gift, a gift of seeing one's soulmate. And Mr. Adrien Agreste had begged the man to be at the front of DuPont Françoise to give Marinette a serving of ice cream to show her who her soulmate was.

And who was Andre to get in the way of love? He had happily agreed, so eager to bring two souls together that were meant to be, bound by the red string of fate.

"Matcha for the eyes that makes your heart flutter, blackberry for his life cast in such chaos, and strawberry for the lips that makes you stutter." Andre said cheerily as he scooped up the ice cream, noting as the girl took out her phone and replying to a text, then happily handed it to Marinette, then patting her gently on the cheek. "I see great happiness for the two of you, for you both see each other with a love so true."

With that, Andre let her by, motioning her to the steps of DuPont. Marinette, considering just to go with it, took a taste of the delicious ice cream and went on her way, not before giving Andre a gracious thank you.

What she saw at the top of the steps of her old middle school was not what she had been expecting. She had been expecting Alya and a few of their friends with some weird prize or an explanation to all of this.

Instead there stood Adrien, holding a bouquet of roses and dressed dark khakis and a button up shirt. At the sight of her, his smile grew and his cheeks reddened, his excitement skyrocketing once he saw the colours of her ice cream. The rest of the class stood around him, looking eager as they took a few steps back as Marinette began to ascend the stairs.

"Adrien, were you the one behind all of this?" Marinette smiled at the blushing model, taking another spoonful of her ice cream, noting Alya recording them from the corner of her eye. "I have to say, that was a pretty impressive scavenger hunt you did. What's my prize?"

The words caused Adrien's blush to get worse and he began to fiddle with the bouquet, trying to get out the speech he had practiced over and over in his head.

“Marinette… I um… I’ve always thought of you as a friend, you know? But not just any friend, my best friend actually…You’re just…” He tightened his grip on the bouquet. “You’re just so amazing, and kind, and wonderful. You’re like an everyday Ladybug to us, always there to help, even when it’s for something really stupid. And you’re always there for me… I’ve been told you’ve done a few things for me that I’ve … I may have been too blind to notice. It uh, it took me until today to realize that you’re the most important person in my life. You’re the first one to really, truly understand me."

"Oh Adrien, that's so sweet. You're just as great, you're always so kind. That's what I love about you." Marinette smiled her brilliant smile and Adrien felt his heart thundering in his chest. Her words gave him courage and he puffed out his chest. 

Finally, he'd tell his Princess exactly how he felt.

Many of the girls squealed and hugged each other, while the guys gave Adrien thumbs-ups or fist bumped each other.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng, I- I am in l- love.."

The revving of an engine cut him off, making the entire class stare as an expensive looking motorcycle parked at the base of the school steps.

The tall figure on the bike got off and took off his helmet. Adrien met the most piercing pair of green eyes he had ever seen. The young man was handsome, with spiky black hair and a jawline that could certainly cut glass.

"Who is he?" Alya whispered to Nino as the guy set down his helmet and seemed to wave at the group, a smile crossing his handsome face. "Does anyone here know him?"

As everyone began to give their negatives, Adrien watched as Marinette's face lit up and she bolted down the stairs.

"Damian, you're here!" She cried as she launched herself into the guy -Damian's- arms, though was careful not to spill her ice cream. She giggled as he kissed her cheek, then kissed his in return. "I was afraid you wouldn't be able to find the place."

"You do give perfect directions, Angel, I was able to find it easily enough." The two of them shared a quick kiss and Adrien felt his heart drop to the floor and shatter.

"Marinette, who is this?" Alya piped up, carefully putting away her phone as she made her way down the steps, everyone else following suit.

"Oh, sorry Al, this is my boyfriend, Damian. He's visiting this week from America." Marinette beamed as Damian casually wrapped an arm around her waist. "I was going to introduce you all to him once we got him settled."

"You have a boyfriend?!" Adrien blurted out before he could stop himself, then flushed in embarrassment as Marinette and Damian focused their gazes on him, the former curious and the latter observant. "I mean, um, you've never mentioned him before…"

"Well, we met a few years ago, around our second year at DuPont actually, when I went away for the summer with my grandmother, and we kinda hit it off." Marinette explained happily, holding up her ice cream to allow Damian to have a taste.

The second year of their time at DuPont Françoise.

The very year he began to date Kagami in order to get over Ladybug.

Oh.

Oh no.

"Really? I thought you were still keeping your eye out for someone." Alya motioned towards Adrien with her eyes, only earning a small, though slightly tired smile from Marinette.

"Well I decided that you can't wait around for miracles to never happen." Marinette shrugged, and Damian met Adrien's gaze. Then he merely rose a brow and smirked a bit.

Those who acted too slowly lost the game.

"Anyway, that was a fun game, Adrien, I had a lot of fun. Now Damian and I have to get back to the bakery, Papa wanted to show him how to make the perfect palmier tonight to finally outclass Alfred's cooking." Marinette tossed the empty cone into the nearby trash, then caught the helmet that Damian tossed her. The couple shared another soft kiss before both got on the bike.

Marinette gave her friends one final wave before Damian drove off, leaving the class in stunned silence.

Adrien watched dejectedly as the girl he had fallen in love with drove off with her new boyfriend.

But he had seen the colours of her ice cream, that meant he was her soulmate.

That he wasn't too late, that maybe… He still had a chance with her?

Right?

---

Taglist: @vixen-uchiha @ravennightingaleandavatempus @crazylittlemunchkin @bee-wrecker @souleateralicestein @loysydark @kceedraws @realrandomposts @alienjoyful

[metaldragoon]

@justsuha​ filled this out, and I felt like doing the same.  Kinda felt they didn’t have the best categories so maybe I shouldn’t have bothered, also tried not being too repetitive with my picks. Favourite Game - Final Fantasy VI, this was an easy one for me.  One of the first games I ever played, then I came back to it around like 12-14 years old and it was the first game I ever played on an emulator, then it was one of the first games I ever watched an LP on, one of the first game I ever started playing with mods, and yeah, I’ve just played this game a lot in my life. Best Story - Mass Effect (1), could’ve gone with FFVI again but eh, and maybe Hollow Knight but I feel like the world building in ME1 is crazy-deep and unparalleled.  Maybe that’s not story in like a “plot” sense, but it’s what I settled on. Favourite Art Style - Killer7, was a comfortable pick but Persona 5 is also a really crisp game.  Also thought about other things that are more atmospheric like Metroid Prime, Hollow Knight, or Bloodborne. Favourite Soundtrack - Final Fantasy VI, like I said, didn’t want to be repetitive, so there was games that had like a banger of a track like Papers, Please, or something like Super Meat Boy, but I couldn’t really justify anything being equal to FFVI.   Hardest Game - Dragon Age: Origins, Felt like a Soulsborne game was the “gimme” answer so I wanted to swerve a bit.  DA:O is hard as fuck, if you’re not optimizing your build you’re not beating that game.  Even on “easy” I’m like chill man Funniest Game - Paper Mario: Thousand Year Door, was tempted to go Undertale but since that’s kind of just a parody game I feel like it had a lot more liberties it could take to still be funny.  TTYD is super funny while still being like it’s own game. Game I like that everyone hates - Gears of War 2, some kid in Gr. 11 said I should get a 360 and play that, and so I did.  I played the online mode so much, but it never really felt like a popular competitive game.  I liked being so beefy, it’s basically just one-shotting people with shotguns is the meta and so the whole stalking someone to close the gap to be in range was super fun to me.  Campaign kinda trash and my friend wanted to get an achievement for co-op beating it on the hardest difficult that was miserable for me, but I think it’s a really fun game to play with some great audio too, the SFX are top notch. Game I hate that everyone likes - Borderlands, hate is a strong word but man I don’t really care about this game at all and people have been hyping it up for a decade. Underrated Game - Catherine, all my irl friends I tell about this game don’t know what it is, until I remind them and they go “oh yeah, that game looked weird/was too hard.” don’t know anyone who’s actually played more than an hour of it.  It’s one of my all-time faves, though. Overrated Game - Breath of the Wild, my wife says I didn’t give it a “fair shake” but I played like 20 hours and zzz... was tempted to go with a Pokemon game too, but it’s more a franchise in general than a specific game. Best Voice Acting - Yakuza Kiwami, I didn’t really have any real opinions on a game having good voice acting; generally they don’t.  Yakuza is all VA’d in Japanese so that’s probably why, but it felt pretty cool and was the only thing that I could think of actively enhanding a VG experience.  Maybe shoulda gone GTA (3 or San Andreas), both are really dated and definitely don’t sound that good anymore but one of my favourite games to listen to dialogue from. Worst Voice Acting - Metroid: Other M, not bad in terms of the actual talent of the VA’s but damn if it doesn’t ruin everything about Samus as a character.  “REMEMBA ME?!” Favourite Male - Kazuma Kiryu, was tempted to go General Leo from FFVI, but couldn’t find an image big enough before I resized this, which I could have easily worked around, but I also really like the Dragon of Dojima! It’s weird because he seems like such a simple design but he’s just badass in the right way, and I don’t know why more games can’t get it right.   Favourite Female - Franziska von Karma, from the 2nd Ace Attorney game.  For some reason had a huge crush on her, when I was younger I even drew some fanart of her which I ain’t done for nobody but her and Broly. Favourite Protagonist - Samus Aran, wanted to go with a “franchise” character and Samus is always super cool (except in Other M), I’ll always be excited to play her in some new game.   Favourite Village - Kakariko Village, felt like kind of a weird question, ‘cuz like if it was favourite area or something, I could have put some other stuff (Greenpath in Hollow Knight for example), and being a village I feel like basically limits you to medieval games but not the main hub either as that’s “a city.”  But Ocarina of Time’s Kakariko Village is always really fun to roll in to, also thought of the Goron Village, or just any village in Secret of Mana because that village theme is soo good. Most Hated Character - Nathan Drake, have barely even played Uncharted, but I just always hate any character with his personality, and he’s the biggest and most well-known.  Maybe he’s fine but meh. First Game You Played - Super Mario World, can’t say for 100%, but this and Super Mario Kart were games I was playing a lot since at like 4 or 5 my older brother owned them and they’re the most baby friendly.  Also remember playing a lot of PC games that my dad had, Timon and Pumba pinball, Chip’s Challenge, Ski Free, and stuff like that.  Skunny Kart Racing for DOS but I never understood how to get to DOS. Favourite Company - Bioware, I don’t really care about gaming companies in general, but Mass Effect and DA:O are some of my favourite games.  I might say Square as well but they do a lot of stuff.   Hated Company - Ubisoft, don’t hate them all but I just feel like they only make games I have zero interest in. Depressing Game - Doki Doki Literature Club, this and creepy are kinda really similar I feel, but I went DDLC but I kinda forget how it even ends.  I just remember feeling bummed about the purple and pink haired girl, and then the Monika scene just being uncomfortable (in a good way). Creepy Game - Doom3, don’t really play creepy games, Doom3 was suspenseful so I don’t know if that counts.  I had it for like 2 years, played it once for like 10 hours straight, and never played it again.  Still lives in my head. Happy Game - Super Meat Boy, is this a happy game? I don’t know, I feel like it’s got a pumped up energy which I equate to happiness.  It’s fun and the music makes it really addictive. Favourite Ending - Metal Gear Solid, don’t really have a great answer to this.  I really like Meryl and Snake riding off on their snowmobile though.  

[blackjack-15]

Are You Poe-ndering What I’m Poe-ndering? — Thoughts on: Warnings at Waverly Academy (WAC)

Previous Metas: SCK/SCK2, STFD, MHM, TRT, FIN, SSH, DOG, CAR, DDI, SHA, CUR, CLK, TRN, DAN, CRE, ICE, CRY, VEN, HAU, RAN

Hello and welcome to a Nancy Drew meta series! 30 metas, 30 Nancy Drew Games that I’m comfortable with doing meta about. Hot takes, cold takes, and just Takes will abound, but one thing’s for sure: they’ll all be longer than I mean them to be.

Each meta will have different distinct sections: an Introduction, an exploration of the Title, an explanation of the Mystery, a run-through of the Suspects. Then, I’ll tackle some of my favorite and least favorite things about the game, and finish it off with ideas on how to improve it.

If any game requires an extra section or two, they’ll be listed in the paragraph above, along with links to previous metas (or not links, as tumblr is freaking out with links).

These metas are not spoiler free, though I’ll list any games/media that they might spoil here: WAC, mention of Sabrina the Teenage Witch (the OG live-action show not the horrible CW monstrosity); discussion of the Poe short stories “The Imp of the Perverse” and “The Black Cat”.

The Intro:

It’s time to go to school, y’all — and not just any school; a rich, elite, all-girls school. Welcome to the jungle.

Warnings at Waverly Academy is one of two games that I don’t sort into a category (like “Expanded” “Jetsetting” or “Odd”), the other being the game that follows it (TOT). There are a few reasons for this — the next category really doesn’t apply, but neither does the previous category, WAC and TOT both feature a gradual shift in tone and approach to the games, etc. If I really had to pick a designation, I’d say that these are the “Growing Pains” games, where the world gets a little bit more open — but not all at once, the characters get a little more fleshed out — but not by much, and a few new things are tried with our character rolls — to varying degrees of success.

On the whole, WAC tackles its efforts far better than TOT does, but it does make for a slightly less interesting meta if one was just to focus on what WAC does wrong and what it does right. Instead, we’re going to take a look at how brilliant WAC is tonally and thematically, and how its source material — not kept secret in the game — builds it up and makes it better and better upon replays.

Before I begin, it’s fair to warn you all that my thesis was done on Poe and adaptation theory (and its relevance towards detective novels but I won’t touch much on that part of it), so I might get a bit nerdy. Hopefully it’s still exciting and relatable enough to the game that it’ll make for interesting, rather than academic, reading.

WAC uses Poe’s stories — specifically “The Black Cat” (obviously) and “The Imp of the Perverse” (in my slightly expert opinion) — as thematic (what the game means) and tonal (how the game feels) touchstones, not to mention their inclusion for some of the events in the plot. A brief summary of both is probably important when looking at how they relate to WAC.

“The Imp of the Perverse” is an essay-like short story by Poe that basically states that inside of every person is the desire to do something wrong or incorrect simply because it is wrong or incorrect (not morally, but in terms of self-interest).

In the story, a man commits a clever murder and gets away with it, receiving the inheritance that he wanted from the dead man. The man cannot be caught — there is no evidence of any wrongdoing, let alone any that points to him — unless he confesses. The idea of confessing — not out of guilt, but just because it would be the wrong thing to do — plays on his mind until, driven half-mad with his preoccupation, he confesses and is imprisoned and executed. The titular “imp” is basically a devil on the shoulder who wants what would be worst for our own self-interest, simply because it is the worst.

MENTIONS OF ANIMAL CRUELTY FOR THE STORY OF THE BLACK CAT. PLEASE SKIP IF THIS BOTHERS YOU.

“The Black Cat” on the other hand is pretty much a proto-“Tell-Tale Heart” — an alcoholic man becomes emotionally distant from his cat (a rare sentence, I know) because he things the cat is judging him for being a drunk; one night in a drunken rage, he cuts out its eye and kills it. A fire catches his home, leaving an imprint of the hanged cat upon the only standing wall.

END OF DIRECT MENTIONS OF ANIMAL CRUELTY.

The man and his wife move, and he, after a period of guilt, makes friends with another cat — a cat nigh-identical to the first one, even missing an eye. When he (drunk, as per usual) and his wife are walking down the cellar stairs, however, he nearly trips over the cat and becomes enraged, trying to kill the cat, only to be stopped by his wife. He instead kills his wife, burying her behind the wall of the cellar and bricking up the hole.

When the police come by they find nothing, and the cat has disappeared, so the man feels safe. The police come back to investigate the cellar, the man taps on the wall to boast of how well the house is made — only to have horrific screeching start up behind the wall. The police break the wall down and find not only his wife’s body, but the black cat sitting on it as well. The man breaks down, overwhelmed by his own guilt, and the story ends.

END OF BLACK CAT STORY SYNOPSIS.

It’s pretty clear what influence “The Black Cat” had on WAC — not only does the villain name herself after the titular cat, but WAC is also a story of guilt, hidden crimes, and personal weaknesses that manifest in rage towards other innocents.

It’s actually really interesting that Corine takes the mantle of “The Black Cat” up when she begins targeting other valedictorian candidates; the black cat in the story is sort of a symbol of the man’s sin — a reaction to his sins and misdeeds, and sort of a catalyst of justice. This ties into how Corine sees herself — someone rejected and mistreated by those who are “filthy” themselves, and who must then show others the things they hate about themselves.

It’s Corine’s self-identification as a victim that starts all this, and it causes her to victimize others in potentially fatal ways. The black cat stands for guilt, for the sins of others, and yet it leads Corine further and further away from any justness herself.

The story of “The Imp of the Perverse” has a little bit of a more subtle tie-in to the game; in a way, each suspect does exactly what they know they shouldn’t.

Rachel and Kim are obvious — they really shouldn’t switch back and forth so regularly, nor should they be so sloppy at informing the other as to what they did and who they met that day. Leela, who should be studying if she wants to keep her spot in the race, instead passes the time by playing sports. Mel knows that the cloak-and-dagger meetings are to be an absolute secret, yet wears hair bows that she constantly loses to one. Izzy has her future meticulously planned out, yet refuses to back up an incredibly important paper (and also relies on being popular, yet pursues other girls’ boyfriends).

Even Corine falls under this; by targeting Nancy, she’s ensuring that suspicion will fall on her, as 2/3rds of the victims would then be her roommates. She’s also cutting her chances of being valedictorian by not working hard for it and instead relying on other, riskier methods. Every move she makes leads to it being more and more obvious that she’s behind them — and yet, she continues anyway, just like the man in “The Imp of the Perverse” — leading from a few small incidents to attempted murder.

Ignoring WAC’s ties to Poe renders it as a good, solid mystery without anything remarkable about it (other than the pendulum, of course). Exploring its ties to Poe not only helps set up exactly who the villain is, but also sets the tone for the mystery. This isn’t a mystery of Nancy foiling a villain through her smarts; instead, it’s a story about how guilt and a perverse desire for self-destruction leads a once-promising valedictorian candidate to more and more severe crimes, culminating in the exact opposite of what she was working for.

The Title:

It’s pretty awesome, full stop.

Warnings at Waverly Academy is honestly a great title for a Nancy Drew mystery; it gives us location, a sense of the world we’re in (scholastic), and a vague yet not too vague sense of what’s going on. The alliteration is good, the abbreviation amuses me — it’s just solid all the way around.

There’s not much else to say; sure, you could strengthen it by finding a punchier “w” word to begin with, but that’s just quibbling. It’s great, I love it, let’s move on to the Happenings at Waverly Academy (which, by the way, would have been a terrible name for the game).

The Mystery:

Called in as a professional undercover detective, Nancy’s just young enough to hide in plain sight at Waverly Academy, an upper-crust private school for those girls fortunate enough to be both rich and smart (aside from a few scholarship students, who are simply smart). Nancy’s called in due to a few near-death experiences by students, punctuated always by notes simply signed “The Black Cat”. It’s only a few days until break ends, so Nancy must work quickly to stop the sabotage, find the Black Cat, and solve the mystery before anyone dies.

Nancy, as always, finds quickly that not everything is so cut-and-dried. Each valedictorian candidate has the motive, means, and opportunity to get the other girls out of their way, and all have something to lose. Add in a secret society, the threat of demerits from an overly zealous RA, and the sneaking feeling that there might be a greater mystery behind all of these incidents, and you get a case mostly unlike any that Nancy’s had to crack before.

Oh, and Ned is on the phone, serving the player up with the single punch of testosterone in the game (aside from the hunky Mr. Harris, of course).

As a mystery, WAC is honestly super solid. Lots of characters, lots of clues, lots of red herrings, lots of mini-mysteries going on inside of the larger mystery…it’s everything you want from a Nancy Drew game, and it doesn’t really drop any of the balls it juggles. Sure, the pendulum might be a bit much for you if you’re not up on your Poe, but I think it’s a lot of fun, and for sure a very different type of ending puzzle — not drowning or running out of air or any other ending that Nancy Drew games likes to do.

Let’s go to the movers and shakers behind this mystery, then, shall we?

The Suspects:

Mel Corbalis is the fan-favorite character, so let’s start with her in this huge, estrogen-laden cast. Distinctly of the goth persuasion, Mel is a fantastically talented cello player and a Waverly Legacy, despite the fact that no one at school wants to be caught dead near her. She’s not an outcast the way that Corine is, however, because of her simple insistence on being exactly who she is, and not trying to hide or apologize for it.

Go Mel.

As a suspect, Mel is slightly more suspicious than most other girls, on account of Megan being her roommate, but otherwise sits on fairly equal standing with them all. She’s by far the most outwardly aggressive, but also comes across as simply no-nonsense (a welcome thing in any girl’s academy, believe me). She also has the least of Poe about her, despite her taste in fashion, and is in general a breath of fresh wind.

Next up is Leela Yadav, athlete extraordinaire. She sure can bounce that ball, at least. Izzy’s roommate and just as much a social climber (though in less in-your-face ways), Leela wants it all — popular, athletic, and valedictorian. It’s a lot for any girl to handle, much less one who can’t seem to keep it all together.

As a suspect, Leela’s not bad — she’s as even as (most) anyone else throughout the first half of the game, but falls off a bit when Izzy isn’t specifically targeted by the Black Cat (as most of her gripes are against Izzy, particularly). Leela’s more there to increase the number of students and throw suspicion around, but she does a darn fine job of it, and is well-rounded enough to be genuinely enjoyable.

We’d be remiss not to mention the queen bee (and my personal favorite suspect) at Waverly Academy, Izzy Romero. Snobbish, arrogant, and with apparently the smarts and people skills to back it up, Izzy is the first Waverly girl that Nancy (as Becca) meets, and boy does she set the player up for what Waverly is really like. Izzy’s smart enough to know when she should put in the effort and clever enough to delegate it when she can, and that alone endears her to me, even leaving aside her hilarious dialogue and general vibes.

As a suspect, Izzy is the sole girl who really isn’t set up to be much other than what she is — a girl with more than enough smarts to get power, and enough power to pretty much do what she wants to do. Sure, Nancy can catch Izzy doing stuff she shouldn’t do, but she’s never really a heavy-hitter when it comes to the Black Cat stuff. I love her for that, too. She’s a lot like Libby from the original Sabrina the Teenage Witch show; a bit nasty, but hilarious and effectively harmless — and I’ve always liked Libby-style characters.

And her stint in the Blackwood Society is aces too. Man, this girl does not quit.

Rachel Hubbard, is, of course, actually Rachel and Kim Hubbard, and they are the plot point that WAC is most known for. They actually have marginally separate personalities too, with one being far snappier than the other, and having strengths in different subjects.

Part of the reason I love the Hubbard twins so much is that their presence is so...Poeian. Poe was all about duplicity and mirrors, and the Hubbard twins show off both themes. It’s just a wonderful little bit of a nod to the source material (thematically speaking) of the game, and I adore it.

As suspects, the Hubbards aren’t bad at all; they’re lying, sneaking around, and blatantly “forget” what they’ve said to people, all of which adds up to be very untrustworthy. Were it not for Nancy (and Corine) sneaking around, they might have gotten through their Waverly experience without anyone figuring it out — and that’s something to respect, even if it does make them prime targets for blackmail. And speaking of blackmail…

Corine Meyers is both Nancy’s roommate and 100% our villain this time around. Obsessed with becoming valedictorian and knowing she probably won’t get it, Corine basically puts out self-assigned hits on each of her fellow candidates, attempting to get the title by violence rather than by being worthy. She’s even cunning enough to blackmail the Hubbard twins into doing some of her dirty work, throwing people off her scent. Sure, Corine is a rather pathetic (in the non-sympathetic sense) person who I have little respect for, but she does make a good villain in a Poe-ish story.

As a suspect, the game actually makes a pretty good go at not assigning the blame too quickly to anyone, so Corine does manage to hide out in the shadows. Sure, one of the girls who went home was her roommate, but the other was Mel’s, so suspicion isn’t centered right on her. I also love that she’s actually punished for what she does — no amount of sad pictures at the end of the game changes that. Corine actually has the cleverness that CUR tries (but doesn’t succeed) to give Jane, and I think it’s wonderful.

I’m not going to give Megan Vargas or Danielle Hayes their individual chunks, but they are present here as well, standing in as victims so we know that this teenaged effery very nearly had a body count. They really help to give a sense of…well, purposeful disconnection to the game, where the setting and the snow and the fact that these are high school girls doesn’t stop the crimes from being deadly.

The Favorite:

The first thing that I have to say is that I love how the tone and crimes of this game contrast so well with a lot of the games (especially, sorry, CUR). This takes place at a school, your suspects are all teenaged girls…and yet the game doesn’t shy away from how horrific things really are to get Nancy called in. Two girls have nearly died in quick succession from one another, and the girls are going on chasing acclaim. It’s a messed up situation, and the game doesn’t shy away from pointing that out.

These crimes are treated with severity, and the culprit, despite things that might have softened her ending under lesser writers, is punished with total removal. WAC in some ways is a spiritual successor to SCK, in that it takes place at a school, lives are endangered, Nancy is (mostly) undercover, and the culprit is not above killing Nancy messily solely for personal gain. The difference, of course, is that SCK is not done well, and WAC, on the whole, is.

As mentioned above, I have a soft spot for Poeian detective stories, and so I enjoy WAC probably more than I would had they modeled it after, say, Holmesian detective stories instead. The ideas of duplicity, mirrors, guilt, the Imp of the Perverse — the self-destructive tendency to do what we should not simply because we should not do it — these are all present and accounted for in WAC from different girls and facets of the plot (Corine and the secret society both represent duplicity, the Hubbard girls are mirrors, Waverly’s own guilt towards the students it failed, etc.).

My favorite puzzle has to be WAC’s resident cooking minigame, where Nancy prepares hot lettuce sandwiches and definitely underdone cookies to the delight of the gossiping horde. It’s like TRN’s cheeseburger minigame writ large, and every second of it is wonderful — the gossip, the food-making, the unexpected panic of a teacher order — everything. It also helps Nancy keep her head above water, should she be caught sneaking around after hours, and I think that’s great as well.

My favorite moment of the game is when Nancy comes out of the wall in Mel’s room and Mel isn’t having even one iota of her excuses to cut and run. It’s not often that a non-villain will press Nancy so intently when Nancy does something Inherently Untrustworthy, and I think it’s great that a 17 year old girl behaves exactly as one would, demanding an explanation and not letting Nancy wiggle her way out of it. Sheer perfection and the moment, I would guess, that Mel became a lot of people’s favorite WAC character.

I also love everything to do with the Blackwood Society. Nancy goes so…metal there and we really don’t get enough of Metal Nancy. It features one of the few moments of absolutely, unequivocally brilliant voice acting that Lani stumbles upon (the conversation about the bow), and it’s a wonder to behold.

The Un-Favorite:

While WAC certainly has great things about it, it’s not by any means a perfect game. It wouldn’t sit in my top 10, and possibly not even in my top 15, though it would depend on the day. The reasons for this?

A big one is my least favorite puzzle: taking the pictures. It’s a good idea — a gofer quest to help Nancy get to meet each student, talk to them, etc. and make sure no one gets lost in the shuffle (like with what usually happens with Guadalupe in ICE, for example) — and is also great for acquainting Nancy with the Hubbard(s). However, in practice, the interface makes it incredibly obnoxious to do, what with having to retake pictures because the pan or zoom is slightly off, and having to jump around from place to place. It’s a good idea, but could have been implemented far, far more smoothly than it actually was.

My least favorite moment in the game is actually the whole deal with Izzy’s paper being deleted. It’s a dick move — and I have no problem with that, honestly, but the fact that she has no backup is just like…girl, what on earth are you doing where you don’t back up your work.

Adding to that is the fact that even in the far-off yesteryear of 2009, Word autosaves (as did many, if not all, word processors) and a copy definitely would have still been retrievable on her computer, and that the teacher would almost definitely have a previous rough draft or at least outline…it’s a pretty shaky thing to have happen (the not-having, not the deleting), and it does break the game down a bit. I know it’s not that big a deal to most people, but it seriously hampers my ability to stay within the world of WAC and to take the mystery seriously.

The Fix:

So how would I fix Warnings at Waverly Academy?

There’s honestly not too much to do; while not a perfect game, WAC is perfectly solid, accomplishing what it needs to do properly and well, without too many little flaws to mar its reputation.

In other words, it’s a bit like an unsuccessful valedictorian candidate; well-rounded, but not a standout when compared to others that burn a little brighter.

I would, however, re-work the picture task; I’m not sure how you could make it less clunky, mechanically speaking, but it definitely needs it, along with a way to know if it’s a good picture or not before you go through all the effort of going to the library and plugging in the camera. I love the idea — just make the idea work better.

I’d also change the “deleted paper” storyline and go a little more destructive — give the computer an awful virus instead. Sure, her paper is backed up (in 2009, probably on a USB drive, or saved to her email or something), and she has her stuff, but that locks away all personalized notes, study sheets, etc. It’s something that would be pretty damning for a Valedictorian candidate, while also still being firmly in the realm of believability.

And on a smaller note, remove the ability to call Bess in this game. It always goes to voicemail and serves no purpose. Why even include it?

Where WAC really shines is its individualistic approach to each girl and in its permeation of Poeian themes; that’s what makes it special as a game, rather than any of its individual parts. Sometimes, you need to take a break from haunted mansions and carousels and museum thefts and marriage troubles and friends who are always in need of help – and you just need to play a game with gossip galore, hot lettuce bagels, and an actual death-bringing pendulum to round it out.

[spiritmaiden23]

why do you even like skyward sword zelda

Oooooo, anon you finna make my followers hate me even more since I don’t shut the fuck up about one beautiful sky Zelda. In short:

In long? Well, I’ll place it under the read more. Juuuuust in case I do actually get super rambly ramble with this girl because I can like talk hours. Excuse the mistakes, I’ll get to editing them once I learn how to read again. I tend to go off when I ramble and not check anything until later on. Bear with me, please!

I’m not even sure where to start?! I suck at getting my thoughts out into cohesive enough reading pieces because ADHD is just hell brain going 755034 miles per minute and expecting everyone to keep up sometimes. I feel like everything I’ve said has been said before... but, I’m always totally ready to ramble once more because it’s something I can never be tired of and is very on-brand of me to yell about either sky or ALTTP Zelda. I’m just super passionate about these girls! 

What drew me to Skyward Sword Zelda in the first place is the aesthetic of her game as well as her design as a whole. I remember seeing the trailer for SS drop and how hyped I was. The cel-shading was back with a vengeance with a nice combo of the art style we see in TP too rather than the more toon style with WW and I feel like it worked beautifully, the graphics for the game never fail to amaze me and I love the watercolor look they went with in both the official art and game! I knew I would love this Zelda and guess what, I was right in that because spoiler alert: I LOVED this Zelda the minute we were introduced to her. Not her first physical appearance because all we saw was her beautiful dress design... well, ok this did help in making me love this girl. BUT her first introduction as to who she is as a character in the letter sent to Link. She’s cheeky in the letter and it gives us this sense that the two of them really are on a more familiar level with each other, compared to every other relationship with Zelda and Link where they are strangers bound by fate to save Hyrule. It’s very simple, a few sentences but all that simplicity painted a good enough sense as to what we were in for with Zelda and her friendship with Link. 

HOOOOOOO BOY HOOOO BOY!!! And then we see her, and we see Link smiling at her like it’s the first time seeing her ever despite seeing her yesterday. And gosh, she’s just a charming character overall!! She’s funny, someone who likes to tease others and carries a strong sense of justice! She can be pushy (literally and figuratively speaking) but she does mean well by the end of the day and is aggressive in showing support for you! She’s an optimist mostly for friends because she thinks that things will turn out alright for her friends and she wishes that they can see the same too so often she will encourage them. She’s not a princess. She’s very ordinary here, and that ordinariness illustrates both Sky and Tetra best because of how lighthearted and open they are. Granted they’re not super lax and are still very responsible like all Zeldas but they’re pretty informal and I love that about them! 

Sky Zel is someone who’s pretty straightforward, she has no issue with letting both her body and facial expression do the talking for her as such she doesn’t really hide much. She’s an open book of sorts all while being someone who expresses her mind and isn’t roundabout in saying things, she has no issue with calling you out as shown with how she called out Groose and his bullying on Link. On top of that, she does call out Link a few times too depending on the choices you give in-game! Skyward Sword did an excellent job in making Sky Zel so likable and adding nuance to her relationship with Link through the little things in the first few minutes of the game and it’s like, damn you kinda wanna see her again all safe and happy! 

It reminds me of how Wind Waker starts off with Aryll and Link having a wholesome brother-sister bond and it motivates you to rescue her because you’re sure that Link wants to see Aryll home safe and happy again with Grandma.

It’s a shame how we don’t see her journey throughout the game and see how she becomes the more melancholic, wise girl we see during her scene where she falls asleep for over 1000+ years or the full extent of her relationship with Impa either because I’m sure those two had a pretty good bond going too for Zelda to react like that during the end where Impa fucking dies hweoh. That’s another thing too, there’s a whole other layer to Sky aside from Genki. Yes, she’s cheery and seems like your typical anime heroine but keep in mind that she was Hylia, a goddess who fought for her people to protect them, the lands, and the Triforce. She was in a war, she had to see so many of her people die that she loved and vowed to protect because of one demon’s greed to have the power of the gods. Hylians were weak back then, Demise says this straight up. So death was very likely in those days. 

She had to endure a lot during that time, once Zelda’s memories of her past life came back she grew up from that girl we see at the beginning of the game. It’s also worth noting, that Zelda and Hylia have different mindsets. She may have her memories back but that doesn’t really mean she’s back to being Hylia fully before she became mortal. I’ve talked about it before but Zelda, with her ordinary background, grew up surrounded by love. In other words, she has a more compassionate heart than she did as a goddess. Gods and deathless beings overall have a long lifespan, they tend to forget about morals and how humans worked. While Hylia did love her people and the lands her love is different from mortals as such it can be very painful. I mean *gestures to Sky Link* there you go. It’s why she’s so remorseful of her actions... but the ending scene where she tells Link she wants to live on The Surface tells me that there are still shades of that playful gremlin we saw in the first half of Skyward Sword. She’s someone who’s hopeful for tomorrow but likes to live in the now and make a brighter tomorrow. She won’t hide away from the past, willing to admit to her mistakes and refusing to make excuses, but she won’t let it define her either and will instead grow from it. She wants to protect the people she loves and the world she loves much like she did in her past life but with more empathy with that love!

I think that’s all for her as a character aside from one more thing to add: 

It’s cool to me how she’s not a princess, but a literal Goddess. She’s legit Hylia. So she’s unique in that aspect and she serves as an explanation as to why the royal family even has divine powers because her blood is passed down to them. I don’t buy fanon theory that all Zeldas are reincarnations of Hylia, I think Sky is the rare case of Zelda reincarnating. There’s no evidence to support either theory because Nintendo tends to be open-ended in their lore for the most part... although Demise makes it a point to say “those with the blood of the goddess” rather than the “spirit of the goddess” like he does with Link which is something that Ghirahim and Demise wanted from Zelda, aka the Spirit Maiden, to bring Demise’s form back from the seal Hylia placed on him. Her very soul has divinity to it. 

On top of that, in BOTW it’s explained that the sealing power has been passed down and that Zelda’s mother knew how to use it as did her grandmother and so on. So... with that in mind how on earth is Hylia around for both those ladies and the current Zelda we see in BOTW if every Zelda ever is the reincarnation of her? On top of that BOTW Zel says in her diary that she had a dream where a woman in white tried to call out to her so??? Huh? What? It creates a plot hole if you think every Zelda is Hylia reincarnating. And sort of takes away the fun headcanon of Zeldas interacting in the Spirit Realm. That said, I’d like to think her presence is eternal through the powers that become unlocked rather than Hylia herself. If that makes sense? It’s not literally Hylia reincarnating but a connection made with her. This might not be making much sense haha. But! Reincarnation is a thing I do think is possible in LOZ since BOTW does say this but I don’t think it’s not as straightforward as fandom thinks it is and I’d like to think it’s more nuanced. People tend to cite Avatar sometimes and ehhhhh. No.

But that’s just me on that one. 

ANYWAY THAT IS ALL THANKS FOR COMING TO THIS RAMBLE