#due to the aforementioned hard work of magic and also it being the last day of my cycle i am fucking wiped tf out

[literary-illuminati]

2024 Book Review #18 – Montress Volume 3: Haven by Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda

I have been reading one volume of this comic a month, in part as a way to force myself to take it a bit slowly and appreciate the issues and volumes as distinct arcs and works in their own right instead of archive binging, and in part because a volume of comic books being more than ~20% of my reading goal for the year feels like cheating. This has accomplished both of those goals splendidly, but it is making it increasingly hard to come up with different ways of talking about the basic premise of the story. So I’m just not going to.

The plot picks up fairly directly where the last plot dropped off – with Maika having escaped the last maratime city-state she’d found refuge in (now wanted fugitive) and settling into the next one. To secure safety for herself and her little crew of misfits (eldritch god-monster her mom bore and raised her to be a host for, adorable fox-child she treats like shit, terrible cat who betrays everyone, improbably hot noble magic assassin whose technically supposed to be murdering her), she’s conscripted by the royal engineer to assist in repairing the ancient magical shield which protected the city during the last war – which, due to her heritage and the aforementioned eldritch god, she might be the only one capable of safely accessing. That (literally) blows up in everyone’s face just about immediately, and the remainder of the arc is spent scrambling to deal.

Dramatically the volume works very well as a self-contained narrative, though a decade of marvel movies have left me kind of incapable of taking a big climax involving an apocalyptic glowing hole in the sky that seriously. Beyond that though, this is definitely a Lore volume, digging deep into the history of the Shaman Empress, her relationship with Zinn, and what the other Montrum are or want. It also, if my memory is right, marks the point where Zinn finishes transitioning from this terrible quasi-unknowable parasite ruining Maika’s life and turning her into a walking atrocity to just, like, Some Guy. They’re a little shit with an improbably amount of flattering amnesia and also murder a bunch of people but like, they’re a character now. They banter with Maika constantly, and also keep fucking up and being wrong about things. Deeply endearing tbh.

This also marks the point where The Doctor and Maika’s paternal family more broadly starts being a lot more plot-relavent which, going to be honest, I’m kind of dreading. Can’t remember any real details but my memories of the whole upcoming arc basically boil down to ‘at least Maika got that badass clockwork prosthetic out of it’.

Kippa and Ren are basically irrelevant to the actual plot this time, which is totally fine because I love them both dearly and would have happily read an entire issue of them going shopping and having a nice day in the market. Kippa, besides being adorable, does actually get some pretty meaty scenes providing the view from the gutter here though – Maika gets scooped up by a scheming vizier engineer as soon as she walks into town, and also hates people, but Kippa is absolutely the sort of person to go wandering through a sprawling refugee camp doing whatever she can to help. Which is both good worldbuilding and characterization and provides some desperately needed grounding to keep the whole story from vanishing entirely into mythic freudian psychodrama.

Speaking of preferring the social and political storytelling – I’m not sure they ever actually matter, but I do love the two bit characters who occasionally get scenes of their desperate heroic spycraft and diplomacy as they try everything they can to prevent another war breaking out. Their little bit in this volume also does a great job illuminating what a broken mess the politics of the Federation is – given the incredibly vague 1930s-East-Asia analogy underlying the story’s geopolitics, I like that the genocidal power about to plunge the world into war is riven with internal contradictions and five minutes away from a coup with the army and navy barely able to stand in the same room without gunfights breaking out).

Anyway yeah, it’s still Monstress. Still good! I probably sound like a broken record saying it at this point, but the character design remains just sublime, even for very thoroughly secondary characters. Speaking of, my favourite one has now shown up!

[acceptsonlynttnightwing]

"Why are you being a killjoy, let people enjoy rings of power?"

Nope. Just nope. I genuinely think that would be a mistake. This isn't just about some random show or YA nov - it's about a series that defined fantasy books for the last 70 years! It's about an author who spent decades clarifying his books and making bloodlines and timelines coherent! It's about his son, a man who spent his entire life going over his late father's work to give us the silmarilians and other works and the published letters! It's about a group of people, who while they weren't perfect or even completely right, spent a decade of their lives trying to faithfully adapt the aforementioned peoples' work.

It's about a greedy, soulless corporation turning this seminal piece of literature into yet another random tv show (wasn't the Wheel of Time and Chronicles of Shannara enough for you ghouls?). It's about them not giving two figs about anything when the creator spent decades getting things right!! Why could Gil-galad's clothes have been silver? Would it have been so hard to get an age appropriate Celebrimbor? Why give male elves short hair and make female dwarves beardless? Why does Galadriel wear the star of Feanor when she disliked him the whole time?? Why does Finrod called her 'Galadriel' instead of Artanis back in Valinor, before Celeborn even gave her the name? Why do Gil-galad, Elrond and Celebrimbor treat Galadriel like she's younger/less experienced than them??? She's literally their aunt/great aunt, great great aunt and aunt!

These aren't conscious changes due to lack of screentime (like PJ made), they're just careless!!! And unlike Peter Jackson, who admitted to changing things, apologised and explained why, no one knows if the show writers even know they're wrong or if they even bothered to read the books!

And what's up with the fake wokeness? People keep trying to dismiss anti-rop complaints saying using PoC is an improvement, and I agree completely! I haven't seen a single post on Tumblr complaining about the race-bending, but every other defense post mentions it! Personally, I'd prefer all black or all asian elves if they'd just give them long, correctly coloured hair (a characteristic that ACTUALLY matters, unlike skin colour).

Also, Amazon's not being progressive at all? Like, Tolkien mentioned multiple times that male and female elves were physically equals - but the armies are all male. Male elves can be old instead of ageless, but the women are young and hot? Male elves have short hair and female dwarves don't have beards? How is that not just playing into gender stereotypes? The female character is inexperienced and is treated condescendingly by the male ones DESPITE THAT NEVER HAPPENING IN THE BOOKS! Galadriel fighting physically is shown as empowering vs her canon strength being wisdom and magical strength (more female coded). The hobbits have Irish accents and the elves British? Way to tick off every cliche in the book.

Everything Tolkien's ever written suggests that he would hate this! He thought Sameness and lack of originality/creativity was the difference between elvish and orc-language!

What happened to ownership and intellectual privacy? In a world where corporations can remove days of television and lifetimes of animators' work for tax benefits, where do we make a stand and say enough is enough, we won't let you destroy another unique piece of work you NEVER could have created. Art is not about making a quick buck!

And it's not just about Tolkien. It's about the swarths of awful new tv show, generic books and soulless comics being churned out by a gigantic machine that steals artists' work and underpays labourers.

And what better opportunity will we have to make a stand? There's a billion dollars at stake! Let's MAKE corporations respect us!

[kitazura]

it’s the thought that counts, tendō satori

1.6k words of fluff; gn!reader

synopsis: tendō doesn’t understand the excitement surrounding valentine’s day until he decides to celebrate it with you.

notes: i haven’t finished the manga but i’m making timeskip content :D thank u rissie (@sugas-cookie) for beta-ing mwah <3

Tendō’s come to learn that Valentine’s day brings waves of purchases made by eager youth preparing to confess their affections, frantic lovers who’d completely forgotten about the occasion, and other last-minute shoppers looking for gifts to give their loved ones. This year is no different; the orders pile up so quickly he can barely keep up with them.

He’s not complaining—not when his bills are getting paid—he just doesn’t understand why everyone lets themselves get carried away by the Valentine rush. At the root of it all, it’s blatant commercialism, another scheme by society to run your bank account dry through obligatory benevolence, so why play into it? Well, as long as it keeps him in business, he supposes he’ll keep his critiques to himself.

“Don’t you think you’re being a little cynical?” you say when he shares his thoughts, the gentle smile on your lips showing you mean no harm. “I think the idea behind Valentine’s day is charming.”

He brushes his thumb over your cheek, humming in response. “Why’s that?”

“Isn’t it sweet when someone puts time and effort into something just for you?” you gush. Tendō watches your gaze turn dreamy as your mind wanders off into the clouds. “Like making chocolates for the person you like.”

“That’s what I do for a living, darling.”

“You like all of your customers?”

“Of course; they give me money, after all.”

You laugh, swatting his arm lightly. “I guess it’s hard to romanticize something you do as work.”

You’re not wrong. At some point, it’s expected for your job to lose its magic, no matter how passionate you are about it in the beginning. Chocolate has long lost its allure to Tendō, and now he spends day in and day out pouring it into molds and hurrying to shape it before it hardens beyond salvation. It’s become a chore for him, and even just catching a whiff of a candy bar sends his brain into the stress of work mode.

“What do you think about when you make chocolate, Satori?” you ask, interrupting his thoughts.

“What an odd question,” he remarks, clicking his tongue like a fussy mother hen. “I think about what I have to do to make it look presentable, of course. And then I count down the minutes until I come home to you.” He beams, proud of his response.

But pride turns to dismay when he catches a glint of disappointment in your eyes. His expression falls as he pulls you closer. “What’s the matter?”

You shake your head. “Nothing, nothing. Would you ever make me Valentine’s day chocolates?”

He tilts his head in surprise, then kisses your forehead. “I’d make you chocolate any day; all you have to do is ask.”

You seem to drop the matter, although he swears you sigh, “It’s not the same.”

He spends the next couple of days convincing himself he’d only imagined it, but something about your tone and attitude makes it stick in his brain. Whether you’d said it or not, there was clearly something behind your first question.

He asks you about it over dinner: “Is there a reason you want Valentine-themed chocolates in particular?”

“You’ve been thinking about that?” You laugh a little, surprised. “It’s not the Valentine theme I want; just the knowledge that you’re thinking of me on that day.”

He pesters you to elaborate—he’s always thinking of you, don’t you know that?—but you dodge his questions, leaving him in the dark once more.

Since you won’t give him any answers, he’ll just look for them on his own.

He texts Ushijima that night: “Why do you buy chocolate for the one you love?”

“Because they like it,” comes the reply. It’s simple, straightforward, but it’s not what he’s looking for.

He texts Semi the same question. The response is the length of a school essay, explaining the motivations of love in depths only a poet could reach, but it’s still not enough.

At work, your question echoes in his mind: What do you think about when you make chocolate, Satori?

What was he supposed to think about aside from the process? His customers?

He looks again at the order he’s making. It’s one he expects every year—it comes a week before Valentine’s, by a man whose wife adores chocolate covered strawberries. Tendō remembers it not only because of its consistency, but also because it’s always preceded by an order by the aforementioned wife, who asks for milk chocolate filled with raspberry créme that her husband is so fond of.

He wonders why they order the same thing at the same time every year. There’s no surprise in it, so what’s the point? Had he been in the husband’s place and you in the wife’s, he’d make sure to buy you something different every year, each present more extravagant than the last. He’d make sure that you’d always have something to look forward to in your married life.

A cheery little tune takes form beneath his breath as he pictures a life with you: silver bands around your fingers, lazy mornings on your days off, walks along the Seine.

He sweeps the excess chocolate off the molds in one clean stroke, sighing dreamily. You would buy a bigger, better apartment once you’d saved up enough, or even move to a quiet little cottage in the countryside.

His thoughts wander through the clouds as he mindlessly flits from one project to the next, forgetting to count the hours until his duty for today is through.

Lately, some of Tendō’s usual customers have been dropping by to say the same thing: there’s something different about his work these days. It’s not negative; on the contrary, actually, the quality’s spiked. But he can’t figure out what he’s been doing differently for the life of him.

It weighs on his mind from the time he clocks in to when he clocks out. He’s been using the same ingredients, the same equipment, so what was it?

His answer arrives in the form of the Chocolate Strawberry man, on the very eve of Valentine’s.

The man enthusiastically shakes Satori’s hand and thanks Him for his work, his hands warm and clammy from excitement despite the biting Parisian air.

“My wife would have liked to come along as well, but she’s preoccupied with the baby,” the man explains. “She wants you to know how much she enjoys your work, though. We look forward to it every year.”

“Then why not buy it off-season, when it’s cheaper?” Tendō asks. The man looks surprised, prompting him to continue. “With all due respect, you order the same thing every year, anyway, so why wait?”

The man laughs at the sincere look of curiosity in the chocolatier’s eyes, patting him on the shoulder, like a father to his son. “Why wait until birthdays to buy a cake? Why wait until Christmas to exchange gifts and set up the tree? It’s old advice, but it’s good: it’s always the thought that counts.” With one last pat on the back and an affectionate chuckle, the man wishes Tendō a good night—“Enjoy tomorrow with your loved ones.”

The stores are packed with the usual extremely last minute rush on Valentine’s morning, and for the first time, Tendō Satori is part of that crowd.

His arms are filled with the goodies he’d woken up early to buy: heavily discounted candies in tacky packages, a cheesy card, a bouquet, an offensively pink stuffed bear, crumpled foil balloons. (He’d made chocolates for you too; those were waiting in the fridge at home.) If it was an authentic Valentine’s experience you wanted, he decided, then it was an authentic Valentine’s experience you’d get.

He’d sent you out to pick up a cake across the city just before he’d left that morning, so the apartment is still empty when he returns. He checks his watch—only half an hour at most until you’d come back. Setting the bear on the counter, he gives it a determined grin.

“Think I can set everything up in fifteen?”

He’s just barely managed tying the balloons closed when he hears the knob on the front door jiggle as you unlock it.

“I’m home!” Your shoes thud to the floor, joined by Tendō’s footsteps as he hurries to help you with the cake. You thank him when he takes it out of your hands and leads you to the dining table while you chatter away. “Boy, did you see how many people are out there? It’s like all of Paris decided to run their errands this morning. It’s a miracle I got the cake here in one piece—what’s all this?”

Tendō grins, proudly motioning to his handiwork. The bouquet sits in the center of the table, surrounded by neatly arranged dishes of your favorite foods. The plush bear sits at the head, the card and candies tucked into its paws. Balloons reading “Happy Valentine’s” are tied to your chairs, gently swaying to and fro in greeting.

“Do you like it?” he asks. “I figured you wanted to do something for Valentine’s, but all the restaurants are booked so I had to improvise—”

You cut him off with a kiss, and another, then another. “I love it! I love you and I love”—you wave at the room—“all of this.” Another kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for thinking of me, Satori.”

He laughs as you hug him, squeezing as tight as you can. He thinks back to the strawberry man’s remark, “It’s the thought that counts.” And maybe, just a little, he’s starting to understand that there’s more to Valentine’s than business.

As you prepare the cake and gush over the bear, he pats the pocket of his jacket. The pretty little velvet box would have to wait until after lunch.

postscript: heyyy <3 i stopped writing for like three months srry LMAO but im back in business baby !! if i try hard enough and school stops kicking my ass maybe i’ll start posting twice a month ahaha ... unless?

[xsailormobian]

how would you rank Sonic girls in terms of power levels?

Hi Anon, sorry for taking a while! For this one I’ll proceed with categories, because many of the Sonic ladies are tied to the same rank and/or have fundamental differences between them that need to be acknowledged. This will be mainly about physical strength and won’t be an indicator of the girls’ character or general abilities outside of this criteria.

(Note: this is a subjective ranking, and not all of the girls are part of this list because there are a lot of female characters, some of which I don’t know enough about to include. Enjoy!)

1) Magical strength ✨

There are characters that, while not necessarily physically strong, can wield some form of magic and thus prove more deadly than someone with raw strength. Blaze with her fire power is a good example of that! Without them I’d probably put her in the fourth category, but her pyrokinesis coupled with her stamina and agility firmly place her as the leader of this category.

Other contenders include Merlina and Shahra, as they can both use magic as well. However we don’t know the full extent of Merlina’s powers, so her relative strength compared to other characters is debatable (though we should note the ease with which she beat Sonic to a pulp in SATBK). As for Shahra, her powers seem to be mostly tied to wish-granting, some of which she isn’t able to grant as a Ring Genie; which would create a lot of limitations to what she can do. And it’s also debatable how much their powers could work outside of their storybook worlds sooo... Blaze basically reigns supreme.

Number one in this category: Blaze the Cat

2) Raw physical strength + regular training 🔥

This is probably what you meant by “power levels” and, if we’re excluding magic users, the characters in this category are the true powerhouses of the Sonic franchise. And uuuh I could only think of two!

Bunnie and Amy are two of the physically strongest female characters, way beyond even the contenders of the third category due to the fact that their strength is one of their defining abilities. Bunnie is a Robian and has been shown to be able to lift people, trees, and many other heavy stuff with relative ease. And obviously she needs her whole body to be as strong as her robotic arm and legs otherwise she might, uh, break her spine trying to lift stuff. As for Amy, she has a giant hammer she can lift without any problems and use in fights, and she also trains a lot to get stronger if Sonic Battle is any indication.

On the whole, they’re pretty equal. If we’re excluding the cartoonish displays of Amy’s strength (Sonic X and co.) I’d say Bunnie is realistically the strongest because she has mastered her own strength. Amy, while really strong, is still young and mostly gets her bouts of energy from powerful emotions: while they temporarily make her surpass Bunnie in terms of raw power, they aren’t a constant and can get her into trouble/exhaust her needlessly. She will definitely surpass Bunnie at some point however because the latter’s cybernetic limbs have their limits, meaning that her strength is pretty much set for life. If Amy keeps on training and gaining discipline, she’ll definitely become the leading character in this category by the time she reaches Bunnie’s age.

Number one in this category: as of now, Bunnie Rabbot

3) Professionally trained and/or often on the field ⚔️

These characters would be the second physically strongest due to them being trained to fight, and thus having more discipline, knowledge, and control over their strength and weaknesses than characters from later categories.

One example would be Rouge since, as a government spy and G.U.N agent, she’d have to be pretty well trained to carry her missions to completion. Plus she tends to attack a lot with her legs, so I’d imagine most of her physical power would be there. Other professionally trained agents include Topaz and Madonna Garnet.

Then we have characters who aren’t exactly professionally trained but who still do train due to spending a lot of time on the battlefield. You’d have (I assume) Julie-Su, who is a melee kind of girl; Sally, who fights with swords and is pretty agile all around (though she’s more of a strategist and doesn’t have as much physical strength as, again I assume, Julie-Su would); and Whisper, who would be last because she’s a long-range fighter and thus tends to fight from a distance, though she’s familiar enough with battlefields to intervene if needed.

Note that while all of them have training and experience, how self-taught they are is up for us to guess. For this reason I would put Rouge as the leading character because she has shown a good display of physical strength and seems to be both the most mature and experienced of the bunch. Coupled with her flying abilities and craftiness, I think she could go toe-to-toe with someone much stronger than her like Bunnie (and defeat Amy pretty easily due to her aforementioned lack of discipline), which I wouldn’t say of the other trained ladies here.

Number one in this category: Rouge the Bat

4) Not trained, but have enhanced abilities putting them above average 👟

The title is pretty uninspired, but it says it all! These characters are rookies in some ways, either because they just started training to fight of simply because they aren’t fighters, but they have special abilities and/or potential putting them above the “average” category. Think Tangle with her tail, Cream with her ability to fly, Mina with her speed, and Honey with her wings.

Of the bunch, I’d say Honey and Mina are the weakest simply because they aren’t interested in fighting. Mina was (and I say it with love) a pretty lame Freedom Fighter and hasn’t used her speed all that much since becoming a pop star; as for Honey, while she can stand her ground in a fight, she’s ultimately a fashion designer above all.

Cream meanwhile wants to grow up and become a hero like the people she admires (mainly Sonic and Amy). This intent, coupled with her being able to fly and carry people, show that she has the potential to one day become leader of this category. Maybe more if she decides to pursue it further, but since she still has seeds of being a pacifist, I can also imagine her deciding to do something else when she’s older (exploring the world, taking care of animals and chao, etc.) For now I’d say Tangle takes the win because... well to start with, she isn’t six anymore haha; but also because she has shown physical strength and has started training herself seriously to become a hero. While still a rookie, she could definitely become an honorable member of the third category in the future.

Number one in this category: Tangle the Lemur

5) Average Jane 🍵

In a world full of fighters and overpowered characters, it’s not that surprising that the “average” category would come second to last. But here it is! Here you’ll find girls that aren’t fighters and don’t have any particular abilities, such as Elise (since she can’t control Iblis, and especially since Solaris has been erased from existence), Vanilla, Tekno and Sonia (who would have some knowledge about fighting but nothing more), Zooey, Perci and Staci, Jewel, and basically every female civilian you can think of.

I’ll also add Marine because although she has shown some kind of aqua powers at the end of Sonic Rush Adventure... I don’t exactly know what it is? She’s complicated haha. If it is really what it is then she’d probably be part of the fourth category alongside Cream.

Otherwise it’s pretty hard to choose a leading character because, well, this is the “average” category. I’ll go with Vanilla because she has mom energy and could intimidate anyone, which is a pretty impressive strength in itself.

Number one in this category: Vanilla the Rabbit

6) Not physically strong 🎐

And lastly, we have the female characters who are physically weaker than average. The most notorious example would be Maria, whose health was very fragile due to contracting NIDS at a young age. I would also include Cosmo by virtue of her being both a “plant” prone to dizziness and having very few offensive abilities, making her one of the weakest characters in the series; as well as Tikal because she’s... literally a spirit, as well as a pacifist (when alive she’d probably be on the weaker side of the fifth category).

And finally I would include Nicole as she is physically a hand-held computer and only has real powers in the digital world. On a physical plane, she can at most simulate a Mobian form for a while; but since she isn’t corporeal, she’d probably have really low physical strength. I would say she is the strongest of this category by virtue of her being versatile and able to carry a fight at the very least in the digital world, and still having a few abilities to defend herself and others in the physical world. (I debated making her part of the fourth category but since she mostly exists either as a computer or as an hologram, I felt it wouldn’t be fair to make her compete with Tangle or Honey).

Number one in this category: Nicole the Lynx

TL;DR: My final classment would be Blaze as the strongest thanks to her powers and her mastery over them, followed by Bunnie (who will one day be surpassed by Amy once she gains discipline), and then Rouge due to her experience as an agent. Thanks for reading!

[flowercrown-bucky]

That Old Black Magic

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Modern!Loki x Reader, Modern!Thor x Reader, Loki x Wanda

Series Warnings: Cheating, affairs, swearing, legal alcohol consumption, smut later on, mention of smoking

Summary: What do you do when you fall in love? Embark on a clandestine affair with their brother, of course.

Authors’ Note: This is very dialogue heavy towards the end. Don’t say I didn’t warn ya. Oh, and hold tight, it’s a long one.

I was supposed to post this yesterday but forgot oops

Start At The Beginning | Series Masterlist

Chapter Five - Regarding long dismissed feelings that must, as ever, be addressed.

TAG LIST: OPEN (PLEASE COMMENT OR MESSAGE ME IF YOU’D LIKE TO BE ADDED!)

“Y/N?” He muttered into your hair.

You murmured in response.

"I love you."

"What?" A spluttered, incredulous laugh left your lips. "Sorry, Loki, for a moment, I thought you said you loved me."

This was it, Loki thought. This was his do or die moment.

"I did." He mumbled. "I do."

Your whole body froze. You couldn't believe what you were hearing. His words echoed in your ears.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I. Love. You.

It wasn't possible. Loki didn't love you. Loki couldn't love you.

You'd played this game since the very first time you'd met. Dancing around each other, skirting around your feelings. Secret, exciting, harmless. You were drawn to him and he you, there was no denying that. Since you'd first met, you'd been drawn together, as if dictated by the will of some cosmic force.

But it was never anything serious. Never anything real. You'd had your moments, quiet and tender and clandestine, hidden away from prying eyes. Moments where you'd wondered how things would pan out if circumstances were different. If - and it was a big if - you weren't engaged to his brother.

As you closed your eyes, hundreds of Lokis' filled your mind.

Loki at the garden party. Loki half-smiling at a joke you'd told. Loki laughing so hard he spat beer out his nose. Loki sleeping on his brother. Loki in the sea under the moonlight. Loki gently embracing Wanda. Loki gently embracing you. Loki that night on the roof, mere steps away from pouring his heart out to you. You looked at the Loki before you. His bottom lip trembled slightly, his eyes glassy.

"Wanda..."  Your voice trembled as you spoke. "Thor."

He stepped closer to you, wrapping his arms around you, cradling your body.

"It doesn't matter about them." He murmured, his voice low and soothing. "It doesn't matter about anyone. All that matters is me and you. So long as I love you and you love me, everything will be ok."

You said nothing, trying very hard to disguise how every muscle in your body was tensing under his touch. You weren't fooling anyone.

"You do love me, don't you?" He stepped away, trying to meet your gaze. "You love me too, right? Y/N?"

You turned your head as shame filled your body. Tears filled your eyes, and you worried that if you looked at him you might start bawling uncontrollably.

"Y/N." His voice was low. "Do you love me?"

Your silence said it all.

"I'm sorry, Loki." A tear escaped your eyes, rolling down your cheek.

"You do, Y/N." His voice was almost pleading, his hands catching your biceps. "You do love me, I know you do. Everything that's happened, everything between us, I know you do. Say you love me."

You had been right. The sight of him had, in fact, caused you to sob uncontrollably, your body trembling under his firm grasp.

"Say it, please." He begged you, tears rolling down his face. "Please, tell me you love me. Tell me the truth. Please."

"I'm sorry, Loki." You repeated.

"You do, you do." It seemed like he was trying to convince himself as much as you. "I know you do."

"Loki, stop." You pushed him away from you. "I'm sorry, Loki, but I don't love you."

Loki felt like he'd been stabbed, your words like a knife driving straight through his heart. His breaths escaped him, as if he'd taken a heavy fall, his lungs suddenly feeling as if they'd been shattered. He'd never felt this way before, he felt almost as if his heart was about to quite literally break into two pieces, taking out most of his vital organs in the process. How had he been so wrong? Could he have really misjudged everything that had happened so badly? He thought back to the first time he'd met you, the way you'd looked at him then.

He thought about the way you were looking at him now.

"You don't.... Love me?" He whispered, his eyes brimming with tears.

You wiped the teardrops from your eyes uncomfortably. You weren't sure what to say.

"I should.. I should probably go." He rubbed at his eyes, turning and all but running for the door. "Just, don't tell my brother, okay?"

Your heart lurched in your chest. Could you let him go that easily?

"Loki!" You called after him. "Loki, wait!"

You were met with nothing but the slamming of the door.

Loki slammed the door of his flat with force it had never known before. Was he angry? Was he sad? He wasn't entirely sure.

He'd headed for the Kraken when he entered his kitchen, his fingers unscrewing the bottle as if it was of their own accord, pouring himself a more than healthy portion of rum. He sat himself down on the balcony, his fingers trembling as he attempted to light his cigarette. It took five tries but eventually, the zippo gave in and his Marlboro Lite was smoking .

After three drags of his cigarette and two sips of his rum did he eventually allow himself to cry. Tears rolled down his face, his nose filling with snot. Every contraction of his throat and chest felt like it might be his last. It felt as if every single sob might shatter his rib cage. How could he have been so wrong?

Thor had found you curled in a ball, crying, and more than slightly tipsy.

"I'm sorry, my love." Was all he'd said, wrapping you tightly in his arms. You'd been scooped up gently, and placed in your bed, the duvet tucked around you.

"Loki didn't come round, did he?" He asked, climbing into the bed next to you. "I forgot I'd invited him."

You shook your head violently.

"Look, I'm really sorry." He reached over to you, wrapping you into his chest. "I shouldn't have stormed out like that. I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too." Your voice came out in a whisper, unable to look him in the eyes.

How could something so right feel so wrong?

Meanwhile, Loki had been living the endlessly grey shades of life. It wasn't as if anything had changed. Anything but, really. His life had remained exactly the same.

He woke up every day at 6:05 and went for his daily jog. Monday through Friday, his breakfast would be a largely uninspiring bowl of porridge, following a shower that had, for a week, been cold due to his boiler's diverter valve sticking. He'd arrive at his office between 8:35 and 8:50 AM (Traffic-dependent), which gave him precisely enough time to make himself a large coffee - black, with one sugar - and read through his case notes before his first client meeting of the day. His working day would often overrun by an hour or so, which he didn't mind on days he was on his own (The exceptions to this being Thursdays and Fridays, Fridays being date night). Honestly? He happily stayed at the office until 7PM, giving him just enough time after he'd cooked and eaten to wallow in misery and self-pity, followed by an hour of half-hearted chatter with Wanda on the phone before he decided bed was the wisest option.

On Thursdays, he stayed at Wanda's. This typically meant he had to leave the office before 5:30, else she'd worry. They'd have a perfectly pleasant meal and a few glasses of wine before settling on the sofa to stream Netflix shows, before retreating to her room to fuck before going to sleep. The sex, as the chatter, had also become half-hearted, and this, he could tell, was something Wanda was becoming increasingly suspicious of.

It was a Thursday such as this that Loki had bailed on. He wasn't feeling well, he'd told his girlfriend. It wasn't entirely untrue.

You had hurt him unbearably, and that, was not a well feeling.

Not to mention that the pretence was killing him. Pretending you were in love with one woman when you were truly in love with another was no easy feat (Not to mention you'd soon be his sister in law, which would make his feelings a little too Game of Thrones for his liking), nor was pretending to be insanely busy so as to avoid both aforementioned women and the latter's fiancee.

Not to mention how you'd crushed his heart under your proverbial heel, leaving the proverbial shatters in the proverbial dust.

He'd wondered briefly on his drive home if he'd ever catch a break.

So, he lay sprawled on his sofa, a large wine in his hand, trying to ignore the phone lying next to him that was constantly notifying him of his girlfriend's concern for his welfare, and trying not to dwell on the fact that he could not dispel the image of your face from his mind every time he fucked said girlfriend.

So, naturally, the knocking on the door had really pissed him off.

He stormed over to the door, internally condemning whoever it was who'd decided to come visit him. What was so important they couldn't have just texted? If it was a door-to-door salesman or an evangelical believer, he would have to utilise extreme restraint in order to not knock them out. He flung the door open, ready to snap at whoever it was.

He was not expecting it to be you.

"Hey, can we talk?" You turned to face him. The smile on your face was small, shy, reassuring, but it still dazzled him.

He wasn't sure what to say. In all truth, he was completely dumbfounded.

"No." Was all his mouth could conjure up.

He'd been dreaming of this for weeks, of you rushing into his arms and declaring your undying love for him, but now that you were here, all he felt was anger. Anger for how you'd humiliated him, anger for how you'd hurt him. As if his body knew better what was good for him than his brain did, his arms reached out by themselves and slammed the door.

If Loki thought you'd leave him alone at that, he was very much mistaken. You clenched your hands into little fists, banging on the door with each alternately. You'd come to talk, and you were not someone who would leave things lying down. You were a fighter, and you'd be damned if one man thought he was going to change that.

His confession had deeply unsettled you. Panicked you, even.

You knew he felt for you. After all, he’d made no real attempt to hide it. Regardless of your own feelings, pushing him away, you knew, was the best thing to do for everyone. You loved Thor, and Loki would get over it. In time, he would come to see that you’d made the right choice.

You did not like the little voice in the back of your mind that constantly reminded you that it was him clouding your thoughts as you drifted off to sleep in his brother’s arms.

"Loki!" You yelled. "I know you can hear me."

Your banging on the door continued for another minute until you heard shuffling from the other side.

"Will you shut up?" He grumbled. "I have neighbours, you know."

"Then let me in." You argued.

The sigh that came from the other side of the door came from a man who sounded like he was really, really done. The door swung open, revealing a man who looked as exhausted as he sounded.

"You have five minutes." He told you, his arms crossed over his chest.

Loki was not sure why exactly he had let you into his flat, but there you were, sat on his sofa opposite him.

"I'm sorry, Loki." You said, looking up at him.

"So you've said before." He but his lip, staring down at his shoes.

"I humiliated you." You said.

"Yeah, you did." A bitter laugh left his mouth.

"I hurt you." You continued.

"That too." He brought his hand up to his throat, undoing his top bottom.

"Can you just stop, and listen, just for a second?" You asked. "Yes, I hurt you, yes, I humiliated you, and a whole lot more, too, I would imagine. But I want to move on from this! I want us to be the way we were! Is that too much to ask?"

"Y/N, you didn't just hurt me." His voice was low, quiet. Calm, even. "I held my heart out to you, and you trod it into the dirt. I told you I love you, and you didn't love me back. That, I can live with. But now, you say you want back in on my life? To what, to laugh at me? Why the fuck are you even here, Y/N?"

You bit your lip, trying very hard not to cry. It wasn't working.

"Say something." Loki rose to his feet, standing roughly half a foot from you. "Fucking say something! Why the fuck are you here, Y/N? To throw it in my fucking face?"

"Because I do." You whispered, covering your face with your hands.

"What?" He asked, stopping in his tracks.

"I fucking love you, Loki!" You shouted, suddenly finding your voice, and in the more literal sense, your feet. "I fucking love you and I'm engaged to your fucking brother, and that's so many kinds of fucked up I don't even know where to begin."

To say Loki was stunned did not even scratch the surface.

He stared at you, his mouth opening as if he were about to speak, but no words came out. For so long, he’d ached to hear those words, but now you’d actually said them, he wished you hadn’t. He almost wished there was some way he could push them back into your mouth, make them unsaid.

“You do?” Was all his brain could think to say.

You nodded, suddenly bashful, unable to look into his eyes. You stood, awkwardly facing each other. Your heavy breathing was the only noise in the room, sneaking glances at each other when you thought the other wasn’t looking, to see if they were looking at you. Who would be the one to break the silence? He reached for you, tugging you into his arms. Your head fell against his shoulder, your body contained in his arms as they wrapped around you. In spite of yourself, you let out a heavy sigh.

‘Push him away, it’s for the best of everyone’, the voice in the back of your mind chided. Bang goes that theory.

You opted to ignore it.

“Hey now, stop with those tears.” His tone had become soft, a world apart from the anger from just moments ago. “You’re much too beautiful to cry.” His hand came down to cradle your face, wiping the tears from under your eyes with his thumb.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” You whispered.

“I know.” He replied.

“It’s wrong.” You continued.

“I know.” He repeated.

You nuzzled your head into his chest, relaxing under his touch as your arms wound around his neck.

“Loki.” You whispered, your voice hoarse. “Loki, I want you to kiss me. Please.”

He blinked at you in disbelief. He’d waited a year and a half to kiss you, and now you were actually asking, his body seemed to be betraying him.

You looked up at him, one eyebrow slightly quirked.

All he could think was how pretty your eyes were.

“Well?” You asked.

Chapter Six - I Put A Spell On You

—

[Also, little known fact about me - I’m a professional copywriter. I wrote this in between some other pieces and I can hear my professional voice coming through in this where I’m usually able to separate the two, but I sort of roll with it here. So you know, like, soz. I guess. #sorrynotsorry. Also, while I’m here, don’t cheat on your partners kids.]

—

SERIES TAGS:

@jessiejunebug @sherlockfan4life @soapbox-moments @amour-delicate @milea @writingforthelonelysoul @justyourneighbourhoodretard @chxrryycola @erinlaufeyson @marvelousell @rogerrhqpsody

[kagomiko]

real name : higurashi kagome  /  日暮ひぐらし かごめ . single or taken : timeline dependent , single  /  married . abilities or powers : her most noteworthy ability is her immense spiritual power , which she inherited from kikyo . kagome can also perform spiritual energy projection , which has said spiritual energy concentrated in the palms of her hand & ultimately released for offensive purposes . kagome is also capable of spiritual reflection , wherein her opponents spiritual energy is thrown back at them . another key skill is kagome’s innate spiritual awareness , which allows her to perceive or sense unwordly things such as ghosts , spirits or demonic auras . illusion & demonic immunity is another natural ability ; she upholds it effortlessly due to her aforementioned immense spiritual power , in addition to her usually being free of negative emotions . purification is one of her more developed skills ; kagome is able to purify malevolent forces , such as demonic energy or miasma . she does this by releasing pure spiritual energy , which she constantly releases unconsciously , however its far more powerful when concentrated through tools like her arrows . infamously known for her miraculous ability to time travel , kagome is able to travel between modern day & feudal japan . additionally , she is immune to any time-stopping spells , as she has a flow of time unique to her . last but not least , archery . kagome’s extensive travels throughout a warrning country helped shaped her into a fair marksman & archer . eye colour : brown . hair colour : black . family members : mother anka higurashi , younger brother sota higurashi , grandfather , husband inuyasha , daughter moroha , brother-in-law sesshomaru , sister-in-law moe , nieces setsuna  /  towa  /  mei . pets : her family cats name is buyo . she’s a female calico . the name buyo seems to be from the japanese onomatopoeia of a squishing noise which can also mean flabby or squishy .

something they don’t like : injustice , discrimination , rainy days , artificial flowers , white feminism , math , hypocritical behaviour , breaking in shoes , bad hygiene . hobbies/activities : writing ❪ in her journal most actively , but also poetry , short stories & novels ❫ , calligraphy , ikebana , herbalism , cooking , skating , bicycling , archery , swimming , & embroidery  /  sewing  /  knitting  /  stitching  . ever hurt anyone before : by nature , kagome is a kindhearted , compassionate & benevolent individual . that said , she does have a strong sense of justice & never hesitates to rise against those oppose her beliefs . she chooses her battles , but fights hard , especially when she’s fighting someone whose hurt her friends or family . prior to falling in love with inuyasha , she had little to no genuine moments of selfishness or greed . it wasn’t until she wanted him so strongly that we begin to see more relatable behaviour from kagome , especially in regards to her complicated relationship with kikyo . additionally , one could argue that her repeated indifference has hurt hojo on more than one occasion . animal that represents them : butterly . the butterfly is one of the most emblematic totem animals , symbolizing powerful  /  personal transformation , metamorphosis in your life , renewal  /  rebirth , lightness of being , playfulness , elevation from earthly matters , tuning into emotional or spiritual energy , & the world of the soul . worst habits : overworking , not getting enough sleep , having a huge to-do list , daydreaming , extensive inner-monologues , & exclusively in regards to her respective relationships with inuyasha & sota , losing her temper .

role models : first & foremost , her mother . they’ve always had a very healthy , respectful & loving relationship . when kagome’s father died , her mother was still pregnant with sota . being thrust into a such harsh reality was horrific for all those involved , but nevertheless , her mother , anka , continuously put her best foot forward & solidified herself with breathtaking resolve . kagome saw firsthand how her mother held things together for their family , built a new life for them , & continued to be a beacon of unconditional love & support throughout the entirety of her life . another significant role model for kagome is aung san suu kyi , who campaigned for democracy in burma . she became the first state counsellor of myanmar & was awarded a nobel peace prize for her non-violent struggels for democracy & human rights . kagome also admires audrey hepburn , a beloved actress who is revered not only for her acting skills but also her philanthropic work as a unicef ambassador . she led a life devoted to kindness & compassion while being a phenomenal mother , wife & humanitarian . sexual orientation : undetermined , potentially pansexual . thoughts on marriage/kids : kagome has always been a lover of love . growing up she never particularly ached or yearned for a significant other , nor does she feel the need to define herself by her romantic affairs , but she still finds love in all of its forms to be a beautiful , magical thing . she has no opposition for marriage , but carries a multitude of ambitions for her future & never held marriage as a significant priority when picturing her life . on the subject of children , kagome adores them ! she has very strong , innate maternal instincts , & can definitely finds a sense of fulfillment in nurturing the spiritual growth of children . she does want to be a mother , but it is one of many wishes for her future , & again , not a main priority . to be happy , healthy & able to give  /  receive love is what she thinks is most important .

style preferences : kagome has long since held a considerably girly fashion sense , while regularly teetering between a modest & more playful style . her wardrobe primarily consists of dresses & skirts . kagome has a particular fascination for snug sweaters & bulky cardigans that envelop her whole . she loves all colours but typically wears pastels , pinks & blues in her day-to-day . she also often wears wedge heels , moccasins or loafers . approach to friendships : notwithstanding her personal experiences with bullying when she was younger , kagome maintained a levelheaded demeanour in life , with school being no exception . she treats all with fairness & respect . kagome will normally stay to her usual group of friends , but will never hesitate to branch out to someone , should the situation call for it .even if she doesn't say a word , her feelings are known to be easy to read due to her honest expressions , which generally cause those around her to soften in tough situations & consequently be honest in return .

thoughts on pie : loves pie , especially homemade . can bake it herself but prefers her mothers . favourite drink : ice water & green tea ❪ jasmine , sencha , matcha , genmaicha & hojicha are a few favourites ❫ . favourite place to spend time at : kagome is a firm believer of the  ❛  it’s not about the place , it’s about the company  ❜  way of seeing things . however , she does have a fondness for the sacred tree  /  the forest of inuyasha . also, while she doesn’t actually go back to visit , she does have a special place in her heart for her old family home from before they moved to the shrine , as she has many memories of time there with her father .

swim in the lake or in the ocean : the ocean . their type : kagome has never found herself drawn to a particular type , at least not in regards to appearances . what is essential to her in a significant other , is a good heart . it’s not required that she agrees with them on every matter , but she needs to be able to accept & respect their point of view . if she can’t , if their heart  /  beliefs  /  values oppose her defined sense of justice in any way , she won’t overlook it . while that is most important , she may also be interested in adventurers ; people with great ambition & drive , people who are wanting to better themselves &  /  or better the world . camping or indoors : so , whilst traversing between modern day & sengoku jidai , she did unearth a newfound love & appreciation for the beauty of nature . however , as she often spent extensive periods of time outdoors , it also made her appreciate the everyday indulgences one can access through means such as indoor plumbing , electricity , hot water , etc . of course as said before , so long as the company is good , she will make the most of whatever situation she’s in , but in this instance she sees the value in either choice . everything in moderation , really .

𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 : @7theaven​ ! thank u sm sweetheart i loved this . 𝘁𝗮𝗴𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗴 : @senpujin​ , @slaheir​ , @devilreno​ , @ofmsfortune​ , @warriorhe​ , @balynce​ , @ymagishi​ , @bkugs​ , @innosen​ , @drakenskies​ , @tofiorire​ , @crimsonacrosstime​ , @puppet-slayer​ , @daikusedai​ , @conflictedhanyou​ & whoever else is interested !

[mistbornthefinal]

Madoka Magica Aniversery Analysis: Part1

 Prologue In Heaven

(just in case this is a retrospective of a 10 years old anime, there gonna be spoilers. If you’re for some reason interested in this post and haven’t see Madoka watch it first than come back)

Puella Magi Madoka Magica begins with our titular character running through a surrealist checkerboard hallway until she finds an exit. That exit opens onto a balcony which overlooks a destroyed Mitakihara.

Cue Magia as we are shown half-glimpses of Walpurgisnact. Against this devastated backdrop stands a single girl who we will later in the episode will learn is Akemi Homura. Unfortunately she is clearly outmatched by the forces arrayed against her.

Needless to say Madoka is distressed by the carnage. A strangely calm voice cut’s in which is quickly revealed to be everyone’s least favorite bunnycat Kyubey. Kyubey states that not only is this situation too much for Homura but that she knew that before coming here. After being slammed into the giant eldritch tree by one of Walpurgisnact’s attacks Homura notices Madoka and attempts to call out to her but whatever she has to say is lost in the distance.

Kubey then tells Madoka that she has the power to change all this, the power to change fate, to banish all this unavoidable carnage and sorrow. All she needs to do is make a contract with him... 

Madoka finds it hard to believe that such power exists within her but she seems to be earnestly considering his offer. Before we get a solid answer we cut to Madoka awakening in her bed, turns out it was all a dream. (Or was it? cue Connect!)

The common narrative about Madoka is that the first two episodes are basically bait. That they present a happy façade meant to lure in the unsuspecting only for them to be slapped upside the head by Episode 3′s big twist. If I have any big thesis for this particular essay it’s that this is not the case at all, and this opening sequence is exhibit A.

This whole sequence is basically is basically the core of PMMM boiled to it’s bare essentials. Madoka beholds the horror’s of Kyubey’s system. Kyubey’s tempts her to become part of that system with the possibility of changing things while Homura struggles to avert Madoka’s contract and thus her tragic fate by solving things without her. Right here in EP1 scene 1 Madoka lays it’s cards on the table and tells us what it’s all about. Indeed in EP12 Kyubey’s offer here will prove to be far more valid than he likely intended. 

The rest of the show is about brining us back to the point where the “dream” left off and explaining how exactly we got there. (which makes sense since we will later find out the dream is the end of Timeline 4, and our series opens at the start of Timeline 5) Given that our secondary protagonist is a time looper it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise that our narrative is a little circular. 

In our next scene we meet Madoka’s family. Madoka checks in with her dad(Kaname Tomohisa) and then helps her adorable baby brother(Kaname Tatsuya) wake up her rad as heck mom (Kaname Junko).  As Madoka and her mom get ready for the day together Ms. Kaname press her daughter for the latest gossip. 

(the only acceptable Madoka Magica waifu, seriously everyone else is like 14)

We get two other characters namedropped here both Hitomi and Kazuko, Madoka’s teacher who viewers familar with Japanese social conventions will instantly assume Junko knows since she refers to her by first name. We learn that Hitomi got another love letter and that Kazuko and her boyfriend are nearing what Junko believes is a critical point in their relationship.

Madoka is then faced with a choice between 2 types of hair ribbons. Junko urges her to go with the red ones telling her that her secret admirers will love them. Madoka protests that she doesn’t have secret admirers (Homura would disagree) to which Junko replies that they secret to being attractive is believing so regardless We then get a brief scene at the breakfast table but Madoka realizes she’s late and bursts out the door with her obligatory anime toast.

(obligatory)

On the way to school she meets up with her friends the aforementioned Shizuki Hitomi and Miki Sayaka. They discuss Hitomi’s love letter situation and Sayaka notices the new ribbons and then teases Madoka about getting dating  advice from her mom.

At homeroom we learn that Junko was eerily prescient re:Sensei love life. Madoka’s teacher (Saotome Kazuko) just broke up with her boyfriend due to a dispute over breakfast preparation, and she decided share her feels about the matter with the class to hilarious effect. After exhorting the Girls not associate with Men who demand the  Kazuko announces they have a new transfer student.

Before we tackle Homura’s introduction let’s quickly go over what’s being done in this last sequence, because this isn’t just mindless fluff. First and most obvious we’re getting introduced to almost all our secondary characters, but we’re also introduced in a subtle way to some of the themes we’re going to be dealing with. Take note in the first scene we get with Sayaka the conversation revolves around unrequited love, and then the very next scene is about a relationship that failed because the parties involved didn’t communicate their expectations of each other.  This sequence also flows very well because the first conversation between Madoka and her mom sets up both her later conversation with her friends and Kazuko’s rant.

Now that we’re done with that, enter Akemi Homura. To Madoka’s shock and our lack of shock it’s the girl from Madoka’s dream. While to whole class is fascinated by the cool and beautiful transfer student Homura only has eyes for Madoka, asking her show her to the nurses office. On the way Madoka attempts to make conversation but is thrown off by how Homura seems to already know the route. When Madoka calls Homura by her family name she visibly reacts and then tells Madoka to just use her first name.

(Madoka’s school is all glass all the time, the architecture in this show is cursed)

Homura then spins around and gives her out of nowhere cryptic ultimatum. “Don’t change who you are or else you will lose everything and everyone dear to you.” While a first time viewer is likely to be as baffled by this as Madoka it still sort of works to establish stakes. It sort of works because we just got those fluffy slice of life which establish how blissful Madoka’s daily life is and thus how much she has to lose. 

Then we get a montage of Homura being the best at everything before we cut to afterschool as Madoka is sharing her strange conversation with Homura with Sayaka and Hitomi. Neither are sure what to make of her words or Madoka’s claim to have met her in a dream. After Hitomi begs off due prior engagements Madoka and Sayaka head over to the CD store, with Madoka namedropping Kamijou as the person Sayaka is shopping with. 

We then get a intercut of Kyubey running from Homura who is shooting purple bolts of magic at him. At the CD store Madoka hear voice begging for help she follows it into an area that’s under construction. A heavily damaged Kyube than fall out of the ceiling in front of Madoka. Suddenly Homura is there demanding she get away from “that thing” but unfortunately it’s not in Madoka’s nature to abandon injured fluffy things. The two of them are at an impasse before Sayaka interrupts things with a fire extinguisher. 

The two of them book it with Kyubey in tow while Homura is distracted but she quickly dispels the cloud of fire extinguisher gas. She moves to give chase but before she can things get weird. The world is overwritten by a surrealist mosaic something that upsets but does not seem to surprise Homura.

What we will later learn is a witches barrier engulfs Sayaka and Madoka as well. Which means this as now a good time as any to discuss the aesthetic of witches and their labyrinths in a bit more detail. While the strange mixed media collage used to represent witches and their workings was and is a trip for a lot of new viewers of the series, this wasn’t a new thing for Studio Shaft who produced the series. 

(If you we’re familiar with the studio when this show was airing this sort of thing would be par for the course)

Even in 2011 Studio Shaft had built a reputation on having a weird house style that the brought to their productions. Indeed the blending of photographs of real objects into the animation is something they did before in Hidamari Sketch. Sill it cannot be denied that Inu Curry took Shaft’s house style to a new height of weird. 

Back at the plot Madoka and Sayaka are being menaced with scissors by cotton balls with butterfly wings. We also get a more prominent appearance of the witch runes (they were in the opening title card as well) these are a cypher that was surprisingly quickly decoded by the fandom. In this case the Anthonies (that’s what the cotton ball monsters are called) are talking about how Madoka and Sayaka are “unknown flowers” and thus shall go to the guillotine.

Before Gertrude’s familiars can make good on that, a new character appears. She wears the same uniform as Madoka so it’s quickly established that she a senpai at their school but before introducing herself she transforms into her magical girl form and blows away the Anthonies. All while her theme Credens Justitiam plays of course. 

The destruction of the familiars causes the labyrinth to recede and Homura quickly catches up to everyone. Homura and Mami have a tense exchange where Mami offers to let her hunt the witch and then no-so-subtly threatens her. Homura elects to back down for now.

With Homura gone Mami heals Kyubey’s injuries and the bunnycat get’s right back to his business. “Hey kids wanna become meguca?” Cue Mata Ashita (if you’re watching the blueray version).

Now that we’ve gone over the first episode in detail let’s talk a bit more in terms of how it fits into the overall structure. Like I said before the first two episodes are not just a false front to lure people into watching the “real” show. Were that true the show would have sucked and I wouldn’t be talking about it 10 years later. 

Not only is the visual tone of the series present from the word go, but the first two episodes set a baseline without which the twists and revelations of the later episodes wouldn’t be meaningful.  This episode in particular gives us a surface level introduction to all but two of our named characters. It also leaves us with a lot of questions, some of which prime us for the big exposition dump in the next episode while others will run for most of the series. 

[theanimeview]

Good or Bad? An Adaptation Review and Analysis of "Suppose a Kid from the Last Dungeon Boonies Moved to a Starter Town" Episode 1 (SPOILERS)

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @peggyseditorial​

Whenever I think about adaptations, I always try to remember that the anime and manga are different works. I try to enjoy them as you might enjoy two different books with similar premises, but that doesn’t mean I don’t compare them, and this series is pretty hard not to compare to its comic-counterpart.

Suppose a Kid from the Last Dungeon Boonies Moved to a Starter Town, is a comedy, as the title implies. The MC, Lloyd Belladonna, is our overpowered center of the story seen front and center in the image above. 

As of Episode 1, we've already diverged from the manga's events, character designs, and dialogue pieces. Probably because of the race to get through content in this opening episode. What do I mean?

I mean that Episode 1 is essentially the first three and one-eights chapters of volume one, which was only about four chapters long. Now, keep in mind that much of the first volume was filler, with jokes about how overpowered Lloyd is and how he doesn't have any common sense regarding what constitutes normal because of where he grew up. The manga did not appear to be aiming for a solid, long story so much as setting up for a series of comedic events playing with tropes of the fantasy-adventure genre. (Not to imply that there wasn’t a plot in there, simply that it takes a back seat.)

The anime condenses a lot of these comedic moments, and even leaves out many details in a way that seems focused on setting up for a larger story. 

For example, in both the anime and manga, Lloyd goes on an errand run for Marie, the Witch he's to live with while attending school. When he returns from running errands in the manga, he gifts Marie a beautiful broach that she notes is way too expensive given how much money he had when leaving. Lloyd explains that he ran to another kingdom and back again to get the items she asked for since they had lower prices, allowing him to spend the money on this luxury gift for her. He also explains how he fixed a number of problems along the way that would be deemed miracles by most regular people in the text. The scene serves as another example in the text of how strong Lloyd is while also showing how little he knows about the world beyond his village. This conversation acts as confirmation, and a slight copy, of a previous retelling of events to Marie, in which Lloyd retold of how he arrived at the capital after running there over six days--a feat anyone else might deem impossible but is considered "slow" in his village. The anime, however, leaves much of these details out. For example, Marie doesn't ask him about the jewelry, nor does she hear about him running to another kingdom to pick up the items she asked for--instead, she blushes, and we move on to the next day. 

Other differences in the anime include introducing an elder-brother character who gives Lloyd a book of fairy tales that inspire Lloyd's wish to become a knight. The concept of stories inspiring Lloyd's wish is mentioned in the manga, but I do not believe that a specific book was shown nor that a brother character was present. In fact, Lloyd seems to be a child "raised by a village" in the manga, while his anime counterpart appears to have a family consisting of at least one elder brother and a grandparent.

During the aforementioned errand run, Lloyd meets Selen Hemein, or the Cursed Belt Princess, who he saves in more than one way--first from a monster and then from her curse. She becomes his stalker-like love interest (she's stanning him hardcore) that he sees her as a new friend (played for comedic effect). Her character design and personality at the end of the episode look pretty similar to her manga counterpart as with the other characters. I mention "by the end" because when we first meet her, I noticed that she had long hair, which becomes short in subsequent scenes even though I'm pretty sure we only see her with short hair at the start in the manga.

Moving on...

Are these changes good? Bad? I think these are good changes. It certainly makes the story move a lot faster. However, these changes do hold the consequences of stealing from the comedy and character personalities in many ways. For example, we see less of Lloyd's struggle with self-confidence, which changes how we view him as a character. In the manga, his self-confidence issues play a role in how he acts around others--making him act meek and brushing off compliments as someone being overly kind. This issue is compounded by the three times he does something amazing (getting to the capital in six days by running there, cleaning Marie's house with ancient magic/using runes, and the events on his errand run). This is shown in how Lloyd retells the events and is told that what he did is impressive, only to respond to the praise with growing depression and discomfort because he sees his actions as simple or lacking due to how he was raised. In the anime, we see his low self-confidence but don't get to see how extensive this issue is because we mostly see him happily exploring, smiling, and helping out. Meaning that the different approaches don’t his us the same emotionally.

This change may still be for the good of the story, as the same scenes that brought us this emotional difference in the manga, also served as comedic scenes that felt repetitive in showing us Lloyd’s OP skills.

If the anime plans to focus more on the story's adventure/fantasy elements, then these changes will remain good. It certainly allows us to fly through the exposition portion of the story quickly, which could be a good thing for those of us who already know how it begins. And I don't think it hurts new viewers who are unfamiliar with the manga-version to start with the anime. It's different, but it's consistently different, and it will probably set up an entirely new story, meaning that you won't feel the same whiplash I felt upon seeing an unknown character so early. 

Side note, someone I watched this with said that Riho Flavin is the actual female lead/main love interest, and all I can say to that is: You're wrong. Sorry (but not really).

Episode 1 leaves off at the admissions board for new students of the soldier's academy, and Lloyd's name is missing (but don't worry too much about that 😉). That's where Chapter 4 opens in the first volume. 

Would I recommend it? Yes. It's pretty good, and I have high hopes for the future of this series. I'd rate it 7/10 for now, but that could go up or down dependent on further episodes. You can watch it now on Funimation.com.

[hyperionswrath--archived]

@onepartbrave

If there was one thing that had finally gotten through Squall’s head that night, it was that Seifer genuinely seemed not angry with him. Despite the fiasco the previous night, despite the unwarranted trip down memory lane, despite his frosty nature that had only warmed due to inhaling too much drink. The blond was still amicable, considerate and bizarrely accepting of all Squall’s current problems and flaws digging out of the technical woodwork. Yeah, he’d just been called a constant pain in the ass but the tone infusing the words suggested nothing but camaraderie backing them. No vexation. No resentment. Just… comity.

Those facts eased a huge chunk of Squall’s stress away. Shoulders sagging slightly from the sudden weightless feel of being almost tension free, he pondered on what that implied next. Would they become friends, if only for the drunken night? Even if they weren’t, his unspoken trust in Seifer was starting to show. Considering over the last month alone, he’d allowed none to come near him, let alone take his hand. Here the man had held his numerous times and Squall hadn’t even decked him for touching—

No. Nope, we’re not going there. It was an accident, don’t overthink this for Hyne’s sake.

Eyebrows lowering into yet another frown, this time directed at his inner thoughts, Squall successfully banished them to the recesses of his mind and concentrated on the now. Like—how close the blond was. Sitting next to him, he predicted if he shifted his left knee a smidgen, it’d bump Seifer’s. Why was he so close? When had he gotten so? Had he really been so deep in thought he completely missed what occurred in reality?

Swallowing down what felt like a knot of trepidation forming in his throat, it feeling less ‘bad’ anxious and more ‘puzzled’ anxious, the entire night was becoming a far cry from the picture he’d had in mind. Previously, he thought they’d drink, eat, sass each other and retire to not see one another again. Now… they were still here, still hanging out, and had plans for tomorrow. I—I’m… Unable to finish the thought, he relaxed back against the rear of the seat, frown softening.

Should he feel uncomfortable? It wasn’t like they hadn’t had close proximity before; sparring ensured that, but this was different, new. New worried him but for a reason that consistently eluded him. True clarity was becoming a drawn-out battle and he’d always been better at the quick-paced, adrenaline fuelled altercations instead of a marathon skirmish. Sighing softly, he allowed his head to loll back against the squishy, warm backrest. …That shouldn’t be warm since they’d vacated their seat. Not daring to turn his head obviously, while Seifer made short work of ordering their water and some bread, he flicked a sneaky glance behind him—to see the blond’s arm present. Almost… around him?

Wha…?

Comprehension fleeting, Squall’s head turned to face forward and, with dawning realisation of horror, felt his face heighten a few degrees in natural warmth. He was blushing like a goddamned idiot and there was no way Seifer’s perceptive glare wouldn’t pick up on it. Shit. What’d I do? Do I leave? Move? Shove him away? Stay still and pretend I don’t know? Fuck—

Inherent ranting cut short by Seifer’s slurred baritone registering. Embarrassingly, clouded grey-blues shot up to try and meet vibrant greens. His mission failed as Seifer was busy thanking the waitress and looking all weird in the dim lighting and— Oh my god, I will stab myself if it makes me stop thinking.

“I—what?” he asked feebly, missing the man’s question entirely as his whirlwind of a mind had been occupied. With him. Ugh. “The… bread? Wa’ that it? S’good lookin’.”

Zipping an imaginary line over his dumb mouth, Squall sat slightly more forward and reached for the aforementioned bread. Breaking a piece off, he guided it to his mouth and took a generous bite out of it. Instant gratification overcame his tastebuds and (finally) his conscience silenced to appreciate the tasty morsel. Swallowing the bite after chewing, he quietly confessed, “Damn, t’is good,” before resuming his previous task, albeit with more enthusiasm.

When finished that portion, Squall grabbed a whole other small loaf to nibble on, mindful there was enough left for Seifer. His worries were amiss as many more little loaves remained. Satisfied with his finding, he shimmied back in his seat, and, in his blissful state of mind of not worrying, all caution was thrown to the wind. Reclining back as he went, he instinctively pressed closer to the searing warmth on his left side, relaxing honestly for the first time in weeks. While he worked on consuming his latest bready goodness, he observed the pub settings with muted interest, wholly uncaring he was essentially using Seifer as a leaning post.

…Warm.

Truth be told, there was an ever-burning fury somewhere deep inside of the tall blond, constantly burning and eating away at him. It had been there his whole life but had started blazing higher, burning fiercer during and after the war. Yet it wasn't directed at Squall. Not anymore, at least. While he had been the Sorceresses Knight, there was wrath in his every fiber, not his own entirely, clouding his mind and judgment. After the war, there had been seething anger about the fact that Squall had not only bested him inside the Lunatic Pandora, but also left him there to die. But that grudge wasn't upheld for long, for once he was able to reflect on everything that had transpired, the act seemed more than plausible. There hadn't been much humanity left in him when the witch pulled his strings and made him believe sacrificing Rinoa would be the right thing to do. The only right thing.

So, no, he harbored no ill feelings for the man anymore who in his mind had far more reason and justification to hate him instead. But so far, except for their first encounter the night before, there seemed to be no ill-feeling at all between them and it felt both odd and relieving. Seifer had carried the shame, guilt and self-loathing with him for so many years, he would have never expected to be treated as friendly as he had been, all things considered. Sure, Squall was still his old self in some ways, but there were also other sides to him he had allowed the blond to see and for all that he knew, they were good changes.

What exactly all of this between them meant, he dared not think about. Granted, he had always been a man of action first, thoughts second, and right now he was willing to just let things happen as they did, not question anything. And if they never saw each other again after tonight (well, there were already plans in place for the next day though), then so be it. Still, a small voice in the back of his head dared to hope that this was a way to redeem himself, if only a little. Maybe that, too, was the reason he felt so protective of the younger one?

Happily chewing on his spoil, namely the goodness that was the potato wedges, thoughtful eyes following the retreating waitress, he only paused when he felt a slight bump against his right arm, making him glance to the side. The look on Squall's face was enough to make the tall blond chuckle lightly, pulling in his lower lip to bite on it though unable to completely wipe the grin from his face. He'd be a liar if he'd claim he didn't push the boundaries between them right now, and much against his better judgment too. What about the whole 'I can never touch him' vow he had taken? But then again, the reaction this small brush of head against arm had caused was entertaining enough to throw at least part of that determination out the window. After all, he was still the smug shit of the town, right?

Even more intriguing, however, was the observation he now made. Squall blushed. And not just a bit. Most interesting. He'd probably be pushing his luck by now but before he could even stop himself, his hand had shifted just so, allowing his thumb to briefly flick over the now heated skin of Squall's neck, brushing at the soft brown strands there. Dangerous as this game may be, he had to admit it thrilled him, and whatever was able to do that to him usually flicked the switch of being reasonable (well, as much as he was able to, anyway), and just go all in. And right now, he was most curious what kind of reactions he could provoke and, most importantly, how much deeper this blush could get.

Apparently, it was enough to distract the brunet from what he had asked, flustering the guy enough to give some entirely unrelated answer which only served to tug on Seifer's lips more, creating a lopsided smirk. "Very." he hummed in agreement, not even sparing the damn bread one single glance. Willing to let his teasing of an entirely different kind go for the time being, he busied himself with his water, glad for the chance to help to mellow his drunken state a little. He wanted his attention on full alert right now. Also, Squall was well advised to eat that much bread to help him along with the amount of alcohol in his system. It wouldn't magically sober him up but at least help a little, which had been the plan when he ordered it. On top of that, for some reason watching the other eat had some kind of fascinating appeal all of a sudden?

Emptying his glass, he placed it back on the table, releasing Squall from his observing stare as he leaned forward to snatch his own small loaf, chewing slowly while he mulled over the entirely unexpected development of events right there. More so even when he felt the smaller body sink against him, leaning on him. Looking down at the brown tuft of hair he hummed, half astonished, half content because he'd be damned if this hadn't been one of his ultimate teenage fantasies. Well, among others, but he'd be content to have this to remember in the future. Lingering in his position, his arm on the backrest still, he swallowed hard against a lump in his throat. Not the kind he had noticed a while ago when dark memories started rushing in. This was different. Better. "You good?", he heard himself murmur and only then noticed that somehow, he had leaned down, the tip of his nose not far away from brown hair, close enough that he could breathe the other in. Shit, what exactly was he even thinking here? Was he thinking at all?

[ali-lie]

SuperPotterCorp Part4

Summary & Warning : The SG x HP fic no one asked for yet I’m posting. It’s pretty bad not to mention NSFW with lots of triggers and potential triggers like violence abuse and mention of all forms of assault. also starts off between season 3 and four Lena knows about Kara  (obviously) [also agentreign] with the Bloody Brandy challenge. 

Before the discussion could proceed any further they were interrupted by a series of hisses and dings in the direction from which Harry had appeared, that would be kitchen, suddenly all of Harry’s children plus Buffy cheered loudly and ran towards the kitchen, while Harry had a small smile on her face as she saw her kids rush towards the kitchen, She turned towards the super friends and said, “It is time for dinner, I suppose we can continue this discussion later on.”

As she said that and the superfriends began to nod Kara super sped to the kitchen in a demonstration of how much she agreed on the opinion that the discussion about their life can be shelved when compared with food.

Harry and the superfriends followed her at a much sedate pace, as they entered the kitchen the super friends saw it had a hard wood floor and the walls were a mix of tiles and different shades of paints in stripes like magenta and maroon there were several different pots on the stove and there was an oven which was indicating that it was done preparing whatever was inside it, they spotted a huge polished mahogany table that looked quite Victorian, except it didn’t have any legs to keep it off floor and was simply floating mid air, they chalked it up to magic having seen far too much weird to be fazed by something so simple, but there was a distinct lack of any seating.

Harry simply started washing her hands, while the superfriends were standing awkwardly due to not knowing what to do, as soon as she was finished Harry gave her children a look and they all groaned and rushed to wash their hands, seeing the baffled look among the superfriends she explained, “Sorry, it’s a small discipline trick I’ve used since forever, the kitchen is enchanted so that nor food nor chairs will appear until all occupants have washed their hands, so iif you will please..” she ended giving them a look.

Sam let out a whistle and said, “That’s damn great! if only I could get something like that at my place..” she ended giving the former a pleading look.

The aforementioned witch threw back her head and laughed, looking at the brunette with a twinkle in her eyes she replied, “We’ll see.”

As soon as Winn - who was the last - washed his hands there was a soft pop and all the food flew from the stove and the oven - which was a lot more than they assumed at first - and set itself on the table like a royal feast, and belatedly the noticed the chairs fitting snugly along the table as if they were always there.

As they sat down Dandy and Buffy closed their eyes and clasped their hands to start praying, meanwhile rest of the Potter family simply sat with a patient calm, looking at the puzzled faces of superfriends Harry said, “both of them like to pray, Buffy being a christian to Yeshua while Dandy believes in Mothers Magic and Earth hence prays to Gaia and Freyja, I mean it when I say you need not wait and may start eating”.

Speaking for all of them John said, “We’ll prefer to wait.”

Giving him a nod of understanding she glanced at Kara and Lena, the former had closed her eyes too and was praying, to whatever deity she believed in though she highly doubted it was the popular guy in sandals who died for everyone’s sins, that led to her snorting, she had to stop watching so much Supernatural, and then she looked at Lena who was looking at Kara as if she was her god – or goddess in this case – the sheer peace on the former-Luthor’s face was not unlike that of a nun or priestess, had they never met her she wouldn’t have cursed them with her misfortune, and they would’ve had a fairytale romance, she wondered how many would she lead to their doom, her parents, Sirius, Ginny, and….she was snapped out of her grim thoughts by having her eldest daughter flicking hard on her forehead.

Macaria had a deadpan expression on her face as she said, “Hey! You still have guests here wander off to your doomdom afterwards”.

A small yet genuine smile formed on her face as she stared at her eldest daughter and replied, “Doomdom, really? Of all of our inside jokes you had to take up that one?”

The Superfriends politely reigned in their curiosity, and tried to look like they hadn’t been paying attention to the mother-daughter’s antics, except Brainy who had been silenced by John when it looked like he was going to say something quite probably rude.

As the dinner progressed peacefully, the superfriends realized something, there was a lot of food, even by their standards and the small family of five had been devouring the lion’s share of it, actually it was only the three siblings eating more than Kara did at dinner, which was saying something, at first they thought it must’ve been because of their magical heritage but given how little Harry was consuming that didn’t make a lot of sense, after figuring out that this wasn’t a trap they had been trying not to offend the good reality warping lady, unfortunately for the lot of them Winn forgot that little detail as he put this whole leg in his mouth commenting, “Wow! You guys must be eating out a restaurant in a single day!”

The Potter siblings reacted in varied manner at the DEO tech genii in accordance to their age by Slightly Smiling (Macaria), giving him a deadpan (Dandy), and frowning at him (Casper), Buffy looked like she was about to pounce across the table and strangle the man with her bare hands, and had a flat expression as she stared at the offending man and offered just two words, “Excuse me?” those two words were spoken quite softly but were all the more frigid, gone was the friendly atmosphere she had till now.

Before anyone else could say anything Winn began explaining himself, much to his friends worry, “No, No, I didn’t meant to offend anyone of you and I’m really sorry for that, it’s just that when Kara uses her powers she requires a huge calorie intake to maintain her strength and I was wondering if something along the same vein applied when it came to your abilities…”

As he trailed off his defense Harry took a deep breath but before she could say anything Dandy stalled her, “Mum calm down, he didn’t mean anything by what he said; we’ve heard it when people are being rude and he wasn’t.”

Harry frowned and yet again took a deep breath and got up from her seat to promptly leave the room after muttering an “Excuse me”.

The atmosphere instantly became quite awkward, at least till Mac took it upon herself to explain her mother’s reaction, “Don’t worry she’ll be back soon enough, our lifestyle especially food and clothing are a bit of a touchy subject for her, after all there was once a time when she arrived here with three children and no money or resources to her aid, all she had was her will power, so she take offence quite easily when anyone even accidentally implies anything negative with regards to us”.

All of them gave a nod of understanding at that and Winn grimaced at that feeling quite guilty by now, while both Sam and John understood where Harry was coming from.

A/n Hello nice to meet all of you! Sorry for the late update to any and all who’s reading this, work just started back again, and we’re understaffed at the moment due to social distancing so writing got side tracked. Hope all of you are safe and happy.

[itmeansvictory]

❝ She did not need much, wanted very little. A kind word, sincerity, fresh air, clean water, a garden, kisses, books to read, sheltering arms, a cozy bed, and to love and be loved in return. ❞

BRIE LARSON? No, that’s actually VICTOIRE WEASLEY. Only TWENTY SIX years old, this HUFFLEPUFF alumni works as an CURSE-BREAKER and is sided with THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX. SHE identifies as CIS FEMALE and is a HALFBLOOD ( ONE EIGTH VEELA ) who is known to be OVERPROTECTIVE, STUBBORN, and SELF-DEPRECATING but also CONSCIENTIOUS, NURTURING, and PRAGMATIC. { r, 27, mst, she/her/hers }

GENERAL

FULL NAME: Victoire Apolline Weasley NICKNAME(S): Vic, V, Tori, Tor AGE/DATE OF BIRTH: 26, 05/02/1997 OCCUPATION: Independently Contracted Curse-Breaker GENDER: Cis Female PRONOUNS: She/Her HOMETOWN: Tinworth, Cornwall, England CURRENT RESIDENCE: London, England POSITIVE TRAITS: Conscientious, Nurturing, Pragmatic, Loyal NEGATIVE TRAITS: Stubborn, Self-Deprecating, Overprotective, Moody

BIOGRAPHY

victoire apolline weasley - though you may know her as a number of monikers: blonde weasley, curse-breaking milf, mom friend™, whatever. she’s the eldest weasley cousin, part-veela, a mother, and yes she is a natural blonde. these are often the defining characteristics she is known by, but there’s a lot more than meets the eye.

born on may 2nd, 1997, almost two years after the fateful tri-wizard tournament where voldemort was defeated “once and for all”, she is the first child born to bill weasley and beauxbatons champion fleur delacour. the first of her generation; hers was a charmed childhood, only made more exciting by the arrival of two siblings and many cousins. seeing as she was older than most of them by a handful of years, victoire became somewhat of a “babysitter” for the family. she spent most of her formative years running after younger weasley-potters, patching up scrapes and kissing bruises as well as diffusing tense situations. from an early age she just naturally took on the role of “mom” among her social groups, the nurturing tendencies carry on even to her hogwarts years where her friends often teased her for being so overprotective of them and “babying” them.

at hogwarts she was sorted into hufflepuff - the first of her family to not be a gryffindor much to the changrin of several of her family members. while the hat had debated between the two houses, it was ultimately the pragmatic and sensible nature of the girl that lead her to being placed among the badgers. this turned out to be best suited to her traits. victoire’s easy going youth lead to her being soft and gentle but also incredibly empathetic and warm. aside from being the aforementioned “mom friend”, she was basically the poster child for hufflepuff - being dutiful, hard-working, trustworthy, loyal and fair. the one “weasley trait” that followed her was a deep love for quidditch, being a beater for the house team for a few years. but her true loves had been herbology, history of magic and charms; the girl spending most of her days studying old textbooks, hanging around the greenhouse, or learning new charms to advance her abilities.

due to a studious nature, she was usually in the favor of her professors and hadn’t found herself in detention like many of her family members might have. it was for this reason she was chosen as a prefect during her latter years, and head girl her seventh. she was responsible and organized in comparison to most of her peers, and actually took pride in being a role model. a side effect of being the oldest in her family - there were always eyes on her and victoire wanted to live up to their expectations.

following school, it was of little surprise when she announced she would be a curse-breaker in training under her father’s tutelage. she possessed much of her father’s qualities - she was an academic achiever as well as laid back in nature, while still managing to be serious when necessary. as a child she was a daddy’s girl and had a very keen interest in bill’s occupation. she used to pretend she was a curse-breaker, "disabling” curses and jinxes on teddy bears and various odd objects throughout the house. so when it came time to take her NEWT level classes, she made sure to structure her schedule around what classes would help her become a successful curse-breaker. it was a thrilling and adventure-filled career path, but her time with gringott’s would only last a few years before she opted to be an “independently contracted curse-breaker” - a choice made in order to continue the work she loved while being a single parent with full custody of her child.

before she began her apprenticeship, victoire spent the summer holiday after her seventh year in france with relatives. despite her claims she would come back “still very much the same victoire” the girl had returned from holiday a very different woman - a married one, actually. hardly one to make rash decisions, it was a shock to hear that after just four weeks of courtship victoire had married a beauxbatons alum she’d met while touring the french riviera. much of the family was opposed to the union, but victoire swore that she was happy and it was meant to be - and for a while that was true.

it turned into a tumultuous affair and would last all of four years before the ill-suited pair would inevitably call it quits - an embarrassing fact considering how adamant she had been that their love was “real” and that it would “work out just fine”. it turned out over time that the two were not exactly suitable and wanted very different things. for one, he wanted to live in france while victoire wanted to stay near her family in england. the only complication left after the marriage was a child that neither had originally planned for - a little girl named amélie whom victoire has full custody of. now her trips to france - via portkey every other weekend - are begrudgingly made in order to allow their daughter time to stay with her father, with whom she has remained (or has tried to remain) amicable and civil despite how poorly the relationship ended.

these days victoire is hardly around. contracted with many independent buyers and sellers of magical antiques and the like, the woman travels across the wizarding world in order to acquire such objects and to reverse whatever hexes have been placed on them as security measures. it’s become harder to balance this job with raising a child, and as such has made her home base in the UK in order to receive the support from her family. she was away on such trips when things began to escalate back home and has since taken on less jobs and has been spending more time in london and close to her relatives during what feels like the return of dark times.

joining the reinstated order of phoenix, victoire is at war with the impending fight. the young woman isn’t too eager to be part of another wizarding war. a little bit of a pacifist, victoire just wants to see a happy future again. having a young child, and seeing the aftereffects of her uncle’s death on his family, makes her worried to put herself in a position where she will no longer be able to take care of amelie. but she also knows that it is up to the order to put an end to the death eaters once and for all - choosing to ultimate put herself in harms way in order to make sure her daughter gets to grow in a safe and happy world like she herself did.

tbh i’ll probably be editing this as i go along.

MISC

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Demisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Heteromantic LANGUAGES: English, French, Gobbledegook, Some German, Spanish and Chinese FAMILY: Bill Weasley (father), Fleur Weasley née Delacour (mother), Dominique Weasley (sister), Louis Weasley (brother), Amélie Weasley-Dufour (daughter), Bastien Dufour (ex-husband) PETS: Barn Owl named Athena, Kneazle named Pyewacket ZODIAC SIGN: Taurus MBTI: ISFJ AESTHETIC: black coffee forgotten and cooled to room temperature; books and files piled up on every surface; scuffed up doc marten’s, cracked brown leather jackets, vintage band tees; makeup-less face and messy buns; chipped black nail polish; teeth marks running along her wand; reading glasses sitting on the button of her nose, a finger shaped smudge on the right lens; world map with assorted pins and thread connecting cities across the globe; bleached shells, creased postcards, and faded photographs in a trinket box long forgotten in the far corner of the closet; freckles that only come out with the sun, sideways smirks and a mischievous twinkle in dark chocolate eyes; the cry of seagulls and the salty sea breeze; pressed flowers in leather bound notebooks lying e v e r y w h e r e, blue ink stains on hands; trinkets and odd little souvenirs from various countries and cities on every desk; finger paintings and crayon drawings with ‘i love mummy’ in the corners; bottomless bag with everything a mom ever needs; nights spent alone and welcoming the solitude

WANTED CONNECTIONS

THE SCHOOL FRIENDS (2) - a couple fellow hogwarts alums who would have attended at the same time as victoire, they have remained close friends since leaving school and regularly meet up for drinks and to catch up and reminisce. they are hufflepuffs and have their own trio kind of like harry/ron/hermione. bonus points if one is a death eater, 1/2 taken

THE RIVAL - a fellow curse-breaker or someone from victoire’s youth who she has never seen eye to eye with. perhaps its because of opposing ideals, a dislike for the weasley-potter family or whatever petty reason - these two just don’t get along and are constantly butting heads. bonus points for being rivals in the curse-breaking field, open

THE EX - self explanatory; victoire’s ex-husband and the father of her daughter. this is not meant to be a romantic connection. they weren’t very well suited for each other and instead insist upon being civil and amiable for the sake of their daughter. is french/a beauxbatons alumni and would be newly arrived in britain should you take up this role, npc

tbh i’m really bad at these; just hmu and we can brainstorm afheahpfieaihfeiafpieafea

[bloodawakening]

                     DANTE SCAR SHEET (DO NOT REBLOG!!)

Dante does not heal nor scar like a normal person. He cannot scar REGARDLESS of the ordeal he puts his body through. Because of this, Dante has fully convinced himself he cannot scar under any circumstances, however, this couldn’t be further from the truth. He's simply unaware that he does have ‘ scars ‘ …just not what you'd consider ordinary scars.

What cannot scar  him?

Normal human weaponry and items. They do still inflict damage on Dante but he will heal from these wounds sustained by normal everyday weaponry and items within a matter of seconds or minutes ( there and then gone the next. )  Dante can however become more susceptible to normal everyday weaponry and items when he’s weak / worn down ( as his regeneration will slow down and become less accelerated. )   Thereby, depending on the severity of the wound and Dante’s current state will correlate with how long it’ll take for the wound to heal ( it instead, could possibly take hours, days or in extreme scenarios, weeks. His healing gradually becomes more akin to a normal humans turn-around. ) As he recuperates however, his recovery will naturally speed up ( as his regeneration  functions more like it should. ) 

Enchanted ( magically enhanced ) / blessed weaponry and items. Dante can be much more susceptible to enchanted / blessed weapons as they are more damage-inducing and thereby cause more severe pain, take longer for Dante to regenerate from and wear Dante down more easily. They can leave more evident and ( temporarily ) longer lasting visible marks but cannot permanently scar.

Human hands do not have the prowess to scar Dante  unless they specifically use enchanted or demonic means to increase their odds of doing so. Dante does very much still register the pain sustained  from the aforementioned items and weaponry since he does have  a ‘ mortal body ‘ compared to that of an actual demon. 

What can scar him?

Demonic weaponry (e.g. devil arms ) / energy. Wounds sustained by the hands of a demon itself ( as well as demonic items / artefacts ) also have the high potential ( compared to normal and enchanted / blessed weaponry and items ) to leave a permanent scar but this is a case by case basis ( E.g. If a demon clawed at Dante. A scratch is nothing but tearing out his side? Yeah that’s  more likely to leave a mark. )

Dante has a higher probability of sustaining permanent scars the higher levelled and powerful a demon is then with low levelled grunt demons unless they manage to hit really really hard.

Instead of scarring like an ordinary human, when Dante is scarred an ‘imprint ‘ of a scar is left in place of where the wound was albeit, now healed. One cannot touch nor feel the ‘ scar imprint ‘ under normal circumstances as it lacks the quality and physicality of a normal scar ( no scar tissue and thereby lacking the texture and appearance of a scar. ) This is due to the nature of Dante’s regeneration - his body and thereby skin,  reverts back to it’s original state prior to the sustained imperfections. The area of the imprinted scar however can still equate to that of a normal scar ;-  as such, scarred areas may be much more stiff / sensitive compared to areas of Dante’s body that aren’t scarred.

If one can sense demonic energy then they they can ‘ sense ‘ where the scars are situated on Dante’s body. If one is able to ‘ see ‘ demonic energy then the imprint scars become visible. Being able to sense or see the scars will be dependant on ones affinity for sensing or seeing demonic energy ( e.g. needing to focus or use an extensive amount of demonic energy to see them. You have to work to notice them on a conscious level. ) The scars may also become visible  under specific scenarios ( e.g. becoming visible in the demon world. )  The imprinted scars have a faint glow to their outline ;- they function similar to invisible ink ( or glow in the dark paint ) ;- only being visible under specific conditions.

If you can do either ( or both ) then it becomes possible to feel the scars. Think of it like feeling the heat from a heater - it’s like that when you run or hover your hand over the scars. Though they do not have any real texture or physicality to them, they have a ghostly other-worldly impression to them. You can faintly feel a thin raised groove or indentation in Dante’s body dependant on the scar imprint ( compared to feeling evident scar tissue that is either raised or left an indentation on a normal human body. ) 

Full blooded humans cannot see, sense nor feel the imprinted scars in anyway. The ONLY exception I can think of is if ;- the human drabbles in magic, has a natural affinity for sensing demon kind or uses demonic power themselves in some way ( e.g. V would be able to see / sense the scars. )  However it will not come as easily to them compared to full blooded demons / someone with demonic heritage and artificial demons.

Dante has  basically tricked his mind into not registering the imprinted scars even if he himself could sense them as he firmly believes he cannot scar. And will basically not believe anyone no matter what if they bring it up to him. This is why for all intents and purposes, Dante doesn’t become aware of his scarring until  later on ( e.g. when he’s much more accepting of his demonic heritage. )

[thempoetry]

“There Are More Beautiful Things Than Beyoncé” by Morgan Parker

This book had been years coming in my collection. Its name rang out inside me when I felt its titular sentiment — that the popular worship of Beyoncé is overblown — and whenever I thought of it, I felt a spark of solidarity.

Of course, this is not a book about Beyoncé — and in fact, this is not even a book that is very critical of Beyoncé. Instead, Beyoncé acts as a literary device throughout — a mouthpiece, an amulet, a proto-idea that shapeshifts to meet Parker’s endless need to talk, sing and moan about race, class, democracy, depression, music and drugs. It’s a brilliant move.

I’d like to start more broadly by commenting on Morgan Parker, because she strikes me as an outsider among insiders. In my head, Parker is of the generation of contemporary poets that includes Danez Smith, Franny Choi, Ocean Vuong etc. … she’s decorated with a Pushcart, she co-curates a reading series, she performs with Angel Nafis as part of The Other Black Girl Collective. Her poetic career is bedazzlingly active — so why don’t we talk about her more?

By which I mean: there seems to be a kind of halo around young poets like Ocean Vuong, who — and I say this with admittedly limited experience of his work — turn the harrowing vine-tangle of identity into a kind of rhapsodic experience: a thing worth looking at because it is beautiful. (Here is an example, from Vuong’s “Tell Me Something Good”:

Snow on your lips like a salted

cut, you leap between your deaths, black as a god’s periods. Your arms cleaving little wounds

in the wind. You are something made… )

There’s no arguing that Vuong’s poem is beautiful; my issue is with how the beauty is used. Vuong’s poem here seems an extension of the (frankly depressing and oppressive) idea that “foreigners” can make their stories worthy through pathos, pity and craft — i.e., hard work and relatability. If the sentiment sounds familiar, just tune into the way mainstream conservatives these days talk about immigrants: I don’t have a problem with immigrants writ large, I just prefer immigrants who work hard, keep their heads down, are pleasant to my children, are generally agreeable…

Anyway, it’s not fair for me to pass such a blanket judgement over Ocean Vuong’s work, and that’s for another review. But insofar as Morgan Parker is concerned, she parses the work and space of otherness in an entirely different manner. Similar to Claudia Rankine of Don’t Let Me Be Lonely, her argument is this: I won’t “fix” myself for you. I won’t try to make myself beautiful. I will tell the (magical, insatiable) truth as it is, and you will have to try to keep up. Because I am too tired to bow down, to construct something for you, to micro-manage. Parker’s poems are for haters of micro-management; they offer big gestures in small bottles.

Consider the opening lines of the opening poem, “All They Want Is My Money My Pussy My Blood”:

I am free with the following conditions.

Give it up gimme gimme.

Okay so I’m Black in America right and I walk into a bar.

With this bold opening, Parker’s commitments are clear: she will demand things of the reader (“give it up gimme gimme”) and she will clearly demarcate what commands her attention and respect (“I’m Black in America right”). And with this begins what I can only describe as a chimeric collection, more warm-blooded fantasy animal than diorama; more occult message written in glitter than typeset monolith. She scrounges from jazz, RnB and pop to fill her pauses. She is unrelentingly new instead of subtle. I like it:

I am a dreamer with empty hands and I like the chill. I will not be attending the party tonight, because I am microwaving multiple Lean Cuisines and watching Wife Swap… (“Another Another Autumn in New York”)

—and the sincerity of her materials shine through. (To continue this silly dogfight I’ve set up, compare the above with Vuong: “Air of whiskey and crushed / Oreos.” Parker’s allusion to pop culture delights; Vuong’s seems like an add-on, a sprinkling of something inappropriate on top).

But wherefore is the source of all this magic? I would say in what Sun Ra called “liquidity.” For example: Parker was best when R and I read her aloud on a grassy slope on Belle Isle in Detroit. There we were, in a historically Black city, in what I can only describe as a “public paradise.” Ducks waddled by and folks of all stripes strolled in front of us beside a small man-made lake. As we read Parker aloud, we laughed with her and from within her work — as though her words gave us the ability to access our inner performers, delivering punchlines (“I don’t know / when I got so punk rock”) and casting personal spells (“I breathe / dried honeysuckle / and hope”). We felt for her. And we wanted to continue feeling for her. All things told I had a moment of genuine orality with her work — a glimpse of what poetry must have felt like when it was shared, sung and social by default. This is a book that radiates the energy of the collective, that asks you to recognize it — and does not over-demonstrate.

So, in this false dichotomy, one might pose:

LIQUIDITY: ORALITY, SOCIALITY, LONG STANZAS SHORT LINES

against

SOLIDITY: WRITTEN, INWARDNESS, SMALL FORMAL STANZAS LONG LINES

In the former, you have the world of most popular songs, particularly jazz; in the latter, you have sculpture and “high art.” Perhaps this is why Ocean Vuong’s work has garnered him endless praise and attention, and most of us look askance at Morgan Parker’s messiness, silliness and genuine emotional bravery. She rambles, yes, but her rambling challenges the very idea of boundaries — of “discipline” as a set of limits, of borders we set for ourselves, however beautiful.

Finally, I will say this, as it’s becoming a theme in my reviews. Parker’s poetry feels affectively liberated. She is funny as well as ashamed. Take, for instance, this amazing section of “RoboBeyoncé”:

The reason I was built is to outlast some terribly feminine sickness that is delivered to the blood through kale salad and pity and men with straight-haired girlfriends […] Nothing aches in here It’s a quiet, calculated shame

Part of the power in these lines is the fact that despite the sprawling, messy energy of Parker’s poems, formally they are incredibly demanding due to their short lines. Parker does not give herself the liberty of overusing the form that has, frankly, become a meme among young poets — the poem composed of long couplets, like Vuong’s poem above — and instead prefers her poems one long connective muscle. The result is propulsive and exciting, like watching a figure skater do tight turns on the ice. She is insightful but also — I dare say it — entertaining. But in the wry, dark way that comedians have that communicates, “Look, I don’t care if you don’t like me. Most of the time, I don’t like me either.”

Which is not to say that Parker’s work is perfect — like the aforementioned figure skater, she does often fall short of her ambitions and can write poems that don’t hold together — often using the couplet form above. I think her work is best when it acknowledges its liquid merits, and doesn’t try to stand with too much air around it.

Overall: 9/10 for sheer spillage of fantasy radioactive plasma

Read If You: -Think it’s lame that Beyoncé talks so much about her “rock” -Miss the energy of cities like Detroit -Have friends you want to read with and you are all getting tired of the bone-dry landscape of contemporary poetry which is really just about “passing” politics and making pain beautiful and omg what if pain is NOT beautiful what if it is just pain motherfuckers what if leaving the party is political too goddamn

Further Reading

Don’t Let Me Be Lonely by Claudia Rankine -- deep classic, prepared the soil for Parker

BONUS: Things To Do In Life That Are Not Poetry

Inspired by Morgan Parker, try:

1. Starting a flashy project then abandoning it on purpose 2. Making a cocktail after a song by a Black American musician 3. Getting in a tub of ice cold water and listening to Kendrick Lamar’s DAMN. while doing one’s nails without shivering

Feverish and anything but lonely, Michu

P.S. A last thought while in the shower. Morgan Parker’s poetry is relentlessly self-aware. But I think what we mean when we say “self-aware” is actually not “being aware of the self” but “being aware of everything but the self” -- i.e. seeing one’s pronouncements as part of a larger (in Parker’s case historical) context. When Parker sits down to multiple Lean Cuisines and Wife Swap, the irony she projects comes from a deep rootedness in the idea that this is a thing that people do: skip parties to self-indulge in everyday, consumerist ways that our higher selves disapprove of. It’s not that her sentiment or self-report is inauthentic, but rather that it is aromantic -- it doesn’t presume that her experience hits on some prized singularness about being human. And I like that; I find it smart and honest at the same time, which is a rare combination -- not just in poets, but in people. 

[toasttz]

From the Tabletop #6

As of the end of the last session, where #5 left off, we've been doing alternating games, between D&D and a new Exalted campaign, swapping every Saturday. So, I'll start with D&D as there's a bit less to report on at-present. We're in an original world of the DM's design, with a design so subtle that the instant he described it to me, I was like "Wait, so the world is all on top of a giant, like Xenoblade Chronicles. Except this is a woman laying on her back?" The main town we operate out of literally has a name meaning "Belly Button". So, for context, a fellow of this party and I were inspired by JoCat's amazing "Crap Guide to D&D" video series and decided to take his advice, form a party of holy class heroes called the A-Men and rock the world around us. This never came to fruition as two of the supposed party fo 4 never showed up for a session. So this is how our party ended up with two clerics out of four players. I guess I'll go first this time. My character is Laga, a Half-Orc Solar Cleric, who follows St. Helbram, an original deity of the DM's. I decided to make Laga as an example to the other half of the party (the same half that was the problem half in Exalted in previous installments), to demonstrate how one plays against type and expectation - by playing a Lawful-Good version of a creature strongly associated with Chaotic-Evil stereotypes. It's a very different mindframe, as I play her as excessively goody-goody in her nature and a strong desire to use diplomacy to get by, rather than force. Our other cleric is Lucius, a Human Forge Cleric, who actually is quite openly racist against non-human characters. He acknowledges Laga, on account she's a lady of the cloth and also in that, despite being half-orc, she's still half-human too. He's been unable to join us for a few sessions, but already set himself up as quite the forceful personality, being the spear to Laga's olive branch. Next is Laguna, a male Drow (apparently those exist) wizard, who runs a pawn shop as a front for the mafia. I actually need to give mad props to his player on this one, as not only has he actually worked really hard to make the character interesting, but he also has very gracefully endured the ribbing the other characters give him. Apparently he is an incredibly beautiful male and, thus, is often mistaken for a woman. And lastly is Kaz. No, that's not his full name, but no one particularly cares. Kaz is the party's munchkin, who decided to play a Aarakocra Monk (and fuck you, where-ever you are right now, Kaz, for making me bother to look up how that stupid race's name is spelled). If you're not familiar, this means that he basically fudged it so he had 20 on Dexterity and then he tried to stack every movement he makes based on Dex. He even tried to argue that Natural Weapons (key word: WEAPONS) counted as unarmed attacks and, thus, should be based on dex. And he also really, really likes the words "BONUS ACTION", on account he's trying to just play himself as a living pinwheel of dex-based attacks. Seeing as he sucks at everything else he tries. So, taking a nod from Rising of the Shield Hero, in town, we find a countdown to the next disaster in town square - 7 days. The people of Belly Button (fuck you, DM-san, that's its name for the sake of these blog posts!) are honestly so used to this that they've become incredibly jaded towards the countdowns. This actually alarms Laga, who finds that the apathy worrisome, as one disaster being worse than the previous ones would be all it takes to cause untold harm. She meets with Laguna, who she has a brief history with (teasing him playfully that he should give up his 'sinful' pawn shop, due to the shady history some of the merch has) and they, more or less accidentally meet Kaz in so doing. Long story short, Laguna and Kaz agree with Laga's assessment, and they set off to try to learn what they can of the impending disaster and what they can do to deal with it. Long story short, they sign up to take on work at a sort of hunter's guild, resulting in a very impromptu battle against a freakin' dinosaur inside the test chamber. Due to... reasons I've honestly forgotten already, Laguna actually wasn't present for this. Laga, seeing this unarmed and unarmored idiot bird-man in harm's way, swiftly takes to the front line, shield and mace at the ready. For reference, Laga's AC is 18, between chain mail and a shield. Due to the aforementioned min/maxing, Kaz has 20. Kaz also wears just a karate gi, essentially. This ultimately results in Laga getting ragdollized as she attempts to protect said idiot bird-man. Thankfully, she has HP for days and, thus, took it like a champ as Kaz rolled 2-3 attacks in a row (this was before the DM and the rest of the party realized he was rolling his talons as unarmed attacks) and easily dropping the beast where it stood. Turns out, it was mechanical and the test was just to see how we'd react, but it was treated as a win, so we were largely satisfied with the results. Some faffing about later (the nature of each impending disaster seems to vary greatly between each instance of such, so information was sparse), so we decided to restock supplies before we leave. There, we meet Gunther, a stout fellow with a shop full of odds, ends, and everything inbetween. He even has wyrmstone, a magically-potent element semi-rare of this world, legendary weapons and tomes, and more. Laga purchased a book that, when united with the other Dragon Ba-- I mean -- copies of the same book, will grant the user a wish. She admitted fully that she wasn't 100% sure she trusted wish-granting magic, or that she could even phrase the wish such that there was assuredly no trouble from doing so, but the mystique won out and she bought it anyway. The entire time, Laguna, default rival of Gunther, kept attempting to... um... smooth things over between rivals. Or... trying to at any rate? On account that everything he said came off as a veiled threat, and it was only because Laga vowed to keep him on a short leash that Gunther relented and let us shop peacefully. Afterward, we ultimately headed to the bar to regroup. There, Laga spotted a proud hound in the corner of the bar. Squeeing like a small girl at a boy band concert, she asked permission to pet and feed doggo. Doggo approved. Turns out he was a mighty hound named Regnar, who the party would soon briefly recruit. I confess this scene made me irrationally happy, even out of character, as the idea of this large, thicc half-orc completely losing her marbles over a cute dog was too endearing not to enjoy. While at the bar, a girl from the DM-original race of Warcur, sought out our help due to a missing sister. She was last seen in the company of a noble, so our goal was clear: we needed to get into the ritzy part of town. No small fear due to us all being demi-human races in a town that really frowns on that. Ultimately, I was able to sweet-talk the guard, on my honor as a cleric. We then spotted the noble in question, and we devised a plan. ... Not... not a particularly SWIFT devising of plans, mind. While Laguna and Laga were largely on the same page, Kaz slowed deliberation down a bit and often confused the nature of the scheme. By the time we broke huddle and prepped to put it into motion, the DM joked that the man was already several blocks down the way, forcing us to race after him in a mad dash. After a brief, but ultimately fruitless, confrontration, the noble went on his way. But not without leaving a note behind. Laga was able to read part of it - something about "Four Sacrifices". Immediately, we put it together: the missing Warcur girl was likely to be killed off in the name of some dark deity! There was murder afoot and it was taking place just outside of town, beyond prying eyes, that very same night! We swiftly recruited Regnar, for his master tracking, and made way for the destined place. There, we saw goblins. Hundreds of them! We approached as stealthily as we could muster, well aware that one misstep would result in us being rushed by hundreds of the green menace, but also the deaths of four innocent maidens! Then, Laguna had a plan. Laga, due to her orc/cleric combination, actually spoke the most languages in the party - common, orc, goblin, and giant. This is important for several reasons, not the least of which was Laguna's plan was to mask Laga as the goblin's primary deity of choice, and then have her, speaking the goblin language, talk down this murderous army from their attempts at sacrificing maidens. His set up was masterful and I actually thought the plan was pretty concrete. We even saw the four girls in question, on a raised platform of some sort at the center of the gathering. Then I screwed up my charisma roll. Laga: You must not proceed with this! This is terrible! Warcur Girl: HEY! How dare you call our band terrible! We only just started playing! Laga: ... WHAT?! Y'ever... have your DM just pull a fast one on you? Well, ours sure as Hell did. And it all started because of a wry observation I made, out of character. In the D&D 5e manual, it lists the available languages and the alphabet they are written in. Turns out that dwarven, golbin, giant, and a few other languages all are written in the dwarven alphabet. DM-san then informs me that he fully planned the dwarves of this world to be very much akin to feudal Japan. Which is a pretty neat idea. And so he began joking that goblin language would be akin to Korean. And if you haven't put it together just yet, we had just walked into a multi-ethnic goblin-pop idol sensation band. G-Pop. And, due to the misunderstanding, Laga herself became something of a pop idol sensation, despite having yet to sing or dance yet. "The Four Sacrifices" was a band name and we had just inadvertently heckled their concert. When they returned to town, bootleg Laga merchandise had begun to make its round, much to Laga's deepest regrets. Not long after, Lucius joined the party, just in time for us to find a help wanted poster. When we sought out the interested party, we found a jilted lover situation - where a terrible witch had seduced and taken away her man! The client wanted us to steal something, which Laga admittedly had a hard time rationalizing away, up until Lucius clarified that liberating items from the witch and turning them over to the church would be a means by which furture generations could be better prepared against black magic - and that set Laga's indecision to rest. We agreed to break into the homestead and "liberate" the item in question. We entered using a magic doorway and this lead us to agreeing to always asking more questions about the nature of our work before we get underway. We were transported into an unsettling and otherworldly library, with strange entities keeping watch over things. Kaz attempted (and spectacularly failed) stealth, nearly knocking an entire bookshelf over on Laga and Lucius - the latter of whom was bopped over the head with a book that he would then claim as his own. We quickly made haste into the hallway, where we engaged with... God-damn Demons. The one race I decided would be fine for Laga to harbor a racial hatred of. The fight was brief, but brutal, as we easily laid them to waste. Then the puzzles began. Each door was guarded by an enchanted, speaking plaque which had a question about the lord of the manor. And, instead of using the... y'know, room FILLED WITH BOOKS AND KNOWLEDGE THAT CLEARLY WOULD'VE HELPED US... we decided to brute force the solution. One instance, when asked what the lord held in highest regard, this exchange actually happened: Kaz: Money? Plaque: No. Lucius: Gettin' laid? Plaque: No. Laga: Love! Plaque: I... y-yes, technically. ("It was actually his 12 wives. But, whatever." ~DM-san, after pointing out how fucking stupid we all had been.) Eventually, we get tired of guessing randomly and head 'forward' best we can manage. This results in our being prompted to roll for perception, which only Laga passes. I then get to be sole witness to a massive, gaunt, nigh-invisible figure approaching us. I desperately attempt to explain what's happening to the others as it nears, and it finally dawns on me (Huehuehue) that one of my basic cantrips is to make objects I touch glow. So, upon nearly getting strangled, I set the figure aglow and the battle begins in earnest, most of the damage being dealt via the two clerics and their divine powers (CoD of War indeed). Eventually we banish the killer and make our way to the safe, which Lucius pries open... only to then have a tiny, cat-like creature (which the DM informs us is called a Poogem) roll out and begin sounding the alarm. With its mouth. Too stunned to think straight, Lucius takes the gambit of the session: Poogem: I'm an alarm! WAY-WOO-WAY-WOO! Lucius: No, you're not! You're my best friend! DM: Roll charisma. Lucius: 20! DM: ... Poogem: I AM?! YAY! Then, we recovered the item and fled as quickly as we could, to the satisfaction of our employer. Afterward, the party split up as Lucius and Laguna went their own ways and Kaz and Laga went to the bar, met by bands of Warcurs. Kaz immediately humiliates himself by failing to understand cultural nuance more complex than "This race is typically NG" and spends 10 real-world minutes trying to fumble a name for his character's father (not a joke). Laga, meanwhile, sits with the female Warcurs and is offered a drink from one after hearing that they spent all day slaughtering demons. Now, due to meta-knowledge, I knew this drink was not safe for consumption. However, I throw my hands up and went with it, having Laga bottoms-up that tankard into her maw. DM: Okay. Roll Constitution. Me: 20! DM: ... Well, alright then. You enjoy it but it has a weird aftertaste. And, holy crap, this has gone on way longer than I expected so, join me next time as the D&D party undertakes a new mission and: Kaz is useless again! Laguna goes on one hell of a trip! Laga seduces a dragon and gets embroiled in TEEN GIRL SQUAD political movements! Laguna gets cursed by MegaSatan! Kaz nearly gets the party killed by offering a dragon a potato sack dress! And Laguna dies in boiling magma! See you there!

[chaos-is--asexual]

More (!) SnowBaz One Shots

Its been an hour since they got her and they still couldn’t think of a name. Simon held the dog’s leash as they walked down the busy streets of London. A week after their pivotal We Should Get a Dog discussion they found themselves in one of the many animal shelters London had to offer. The couple was instantly smitten with the stout American bulldog because, well, she appeared to be smiling, underbite and all.

“Baz, darling, loved one, we need to get this dog. She wants to be loved. By us. Lookit, she even has upside down fangs.” Simon then pointed to the aforementioned underbite.

It didn’t take much to convince Baz.

Which is why they were currently wracking their brains for the newest member of their family. Simon held the dog’s leash, but the dog was leading him more than Simon was walking her. His arm was outstretched all the way, and Baz would be a damn fool if he didn’t notice the way Simon’s arm was toned underneath the cotton of his Iron Man comic shirt.

She was panting heavily, and Simon and Baz weren’t sure if it was due to all of the excitement of the day, she was hot, or maybe she just tired super easily.

“Okay,” started Simon, “we gotta give our furry little friend a name. Say the first name that comes to mind.”

“Veronica.” Baz blurted out.

“Too harsh.”

“Cheryl.”

“Too average American housewife.”

“Blossom.”

“Oh my god Baz you have been watching way too much Riverdale.” Baz blushed slightly, and Simon would be lying if he said he didn’t find it adorable. “But… what about the name Betty? I kind of like how it's the quintessential grandma name.” Simon looked at the ground, waiting for the snark that was bound to leave Baz’s lips.

But it never came.

“I think that’s a perfect name, Snow.” The two, well, three, of them stopped in their tracks, and Simon and Baz looked at each other and shared a smile filled with blissful happiness. Baz then bent down on the sidewalk and looked right at Betty.

“Welcome to the family, Betty Snow-Pitch.”

And to think Baz said he didn’t like dogs.

———————————————————————————————————

“Your nose is going to peel so badly in a few days.” Remarked Baz sparing a glance from the driver’s seat at his boyfriend, who was preoccupied with looking out the window, looking like a tired toddler. His bronze curls were disheveled, sand peeking out from the base of his scalp, new freckles already forming on his cheekbones, and, of course, a nose the color of strawberry jam. (Someone forgot to reapply sunscreen after they took a dip in the water.)

“Ugh, yes I know Baz. I’m burnt. I’m crisp. I have baby skin or whatever you called it earlier. We get it, the sun’s wrath conquered me.” Simon said playfully, a hint of a smile at the corners of his lips. Baz chuckled, his nose crinkled up. “Oh Christmas,” Simon said with realization, “Penny is absolutely going to destroy me. My nose, my shoulders, even my bloody legs— I look like a walking tomato.”

Now Baz was full on hysterical laughing, his nose all scrunched, eyes squinted, lips revealing every one of his pearly whites. He “good-naturedly” stuck his hand out to pat Simon on the shoulders, an act of comradeship he claimed, which resulted in an aggravated wince from Simon. With his pale gray eyes back on the road and arms lazily gripping the wheel at 10 and 2, he said “Oh cheer up, Snow. Maybe we can pick up some aloe vera gel on the way home. I’d be more than happy to rub it on your toasty shoulders.” Baz and Simon made brief eye contact, Baz raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Simon smiled a sweet, shy smile, exposing a dimple in his left cheek. “Alright, Baz, then I think this whole sunburn ordeal might be worth it after all.” Simon went back to gazing out the window absentmindedly. He stuck his hand out of the open car window, making waves in the air, angling his wrist this way and that, redirecting the breeze.

The drive home from the beach was filled with content silence. Their bodies tight from the sun, sand trapped in the seams of the fabric seats, sunglasses lazily resting on their heads, and golden, late-afternoon rays capturing the moment forever in a hazy glow.

———————————————————————————————————

It was a year after the incident. You know, the incident from last year during winter break. With the Mage and Ebb and Simon— yeah, you know the one.

Simon and Baz had just arrived back at Simon’s apartment from Watford. Penny was staying with her parents.

Watford had thrown a remembrance type event to celebrate Ebb’s memory, the conquer of Good over Bad, the evil, the Insidious Humdrum, or whatever you would want to call it. Everyone was “invited,” but it wasn’t a celebration where people sent out invites or anything. It was like a funeral, people heard about it through word of mouth.

Headmistress Bunce wanted to honor the courage of everyone involved the whole affair, carefully avoiding any mention of the Mage.

Baz saw how hard it was for Simon to be back, especially on the anniversary of the night that Simon lost his gift, his power. He could practically feel the pain radiating off of Simon. Baz wanted to be a sponge and absorb all of his troubles.

He saw that he only cried once during the whole affair. When he saw Ebb’s portrait as they walked into the school.

But they were home now. Thankfully no one stared at Simon for too long or asked him how it felt being magic-less. If they did, so help him god, Baz would have made them wish they’d never been born.

Simon climbed into bed, not bothering to shower, simply slipping on his sweatpants and a worn gray cotton t-shirt. Baz followed suit, carefully taking off his clothes and hanging them up neatly in the closet. (It didn’t matter that he didn’t live there, half of Simon’s wardrobe was filled with Baz’s things.) Baz climbed into bed and snuggled up next to Simon, enveloping him in his arms.

“Love,” he started tentatively, “do you want to talk ab-“

“No, Baz. I love you, but I can’t relive it right now.” His voice was muffled. Simon had his good days and his bad, like everyone. He was working hard with his therapist to overcome the trauma of that fateful winter day, and he was also relearning who he was. A sometimes painful and heartbreaking process. But for the most part, he was his usual annoyingly charming self. But today was one of those really bad days.

“Tell me a story, Baz,” Simon whispered. They would play this game sometimes when life became too overwhelming; they’d escape themselves for a little bit.

“Okay, love.” Baz nestled his head in the space between Simon’s head and shoulder. He began: “There was once a prince, and he was so stupidly brave. And kind. Like, he was the type of guy who would’ve washed the windows of a children’s hospital dressed as Spiderman type of kind. He was made out of it. He tried to make everyone feel like they had a special place in this world.” Baz paused, thinking about where the story should go next. He reached up and brushed his fingers through Simon’s hair.

“But, somehow, the prince realized that he wasn’t really a prince.” Baz could tell Simon knew where the story was going, but he was kind enough to let him continue. “However, it didn’t matter that he wasn’t technically a prince anymore, because he was still himself, ya know, just without all those fancy titles. He was still stupidly brave, and more good-looking than anyone had a right to be, and still so marvelously kind.” He paused and kissed Simon’s ear. “You are still you, Simon. Please, never forget that. Never forget that I will always love you, Simon, in any form. Chosen One, prince, vampire, toad, it doesn’t matter, you are still you.”

The pair of them stayed quiet for a long time when Simon finally broke the silence and turned to face Baz in the dark. “I love you too, Baz, in any form. Forever.”

“I know, Simon.” They leaned their foreheads against each other, an act so intimate, more so than any kiss, and it felt like their hearts were jolted using jumper cables. “Let's get some rest, love.”

And they drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other’s arms.

[poppyknitt]

Forgiveness- A JSE Egos Fanfic: Thanksgiving Special

Recap: Over the last few months, Anti has attacked a few times, but was subdued on his own birthday by Marvin, whose mind had been corrupted by his overuse of dark magic, which is kind of like black magic, but much, much worse, and much, much more controlling of the mind if used to a certain, varyinge extent. Chase, who is no longer stuck as a ghost due to Marvin’s recklessness prior to their “victory”, and now fully functional, seems to have managed to save his kids and ex-wife Stacy from her new boyfriend, who was seemingly very controlling and even a bit abusive of them, whilst still being a ghost. Jackieboyman proposed to his girlfriend of two years, Ava, and seems to be very near quitting the superhero gig, so as to not put his fiancé at risk anymore, but also, so he can be a good father, as she’s apparently pregnant with his son. After celebrating their anniversay on a beautiful cruise ship, Jackie managed to come back to shore within enough time to join the remaining egos, and Seán himself, for Jameson’s birthday! Henrik is still recovering from the wounds he recieved in the battle that took place on Anti’s birthday, but he is thankfully healed enough to be back on the job!

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Warning- Long chapter! I would put a keep reading thing, but I’m on mobile, and you can’t do that on Tumblr Mobile, sadly! (*cough* TUMBLR DEVS, FIX THIS, FOR CRYING OUT LOUD! *cough*) Also, if you are triggered by any amount of cursing, or the mention of severe, temporarily disabling injuries, I suggest you skip to like, the last two paragraphs. Which may be hard, because apparently there’s almost 100 paragraphs in this fic.

[November 15th]

Marvin opened his eyes, and panicked, as he noticed that he wasn’t in his body anymore. He could see himself, but... it was like his body had gone into temporary stasis. He took a moment to himself, trying to recall the events that lead up to this... Ah, yes! That’s right...

He’d started playing around with the occasional black or dark magic spell about a year back, but had used them so little for the first few months that it barely affected his mental state. As time went on, however, he came to realize that soon enough, simply just using the same old magic spells on Anti as he’d always used wasn’t going to do jack shit to help defend his brothers. So, even though he didn’t want to break the promise he’d made to Jackie and Seán, he started full-on dabbling in dark and black magic, convincing himself it was the only way to keep them safe.

But then, in September... Jackie was brutally struck down by Anti, and Marvin had been lucky enough to pinpoint his location just in time to save his life, and trick Anti into thinking that he was dead. That moment... That was the moment it all took a turn for the worst. The next thing he’d known, his mind was entirely consumed by the darkness he’d slowly been inflicting on himself by using dark magic in the first place, and, by the time october came around, he’d been kicked out of his body, in the sense that he’d lost control of himself, and was being piloted by the aforementioned darkness. He’d been forced to watch in horror as his body tore his brothers down, one by one, until only Seán and Henrik remained untouched by his corruptive new abilities. Each time he attacked one of them, he’d been screaming for them, calling their names out desperately, trying to tell them he wasn’t in control. But... None of them even heard him in the first place... All they could hear in those moments was the evil momologues that his body was spewing.

He slowly started loosing himself in his recollecting trance, his mental state spiraling downwards as he slowly merged into self-deprecation and self-hate type thoughts; the kind he’d only ever read about before he started dabbling in the arts. It wasn’t until he heard a faint, staticy voice calling his name out that he snapped back to reality.

“Mavvy? Mavvy can hear?! Mavvy, say something!” Robbie’s voice called to him.

“Robbie?! Are you here with me?! How are you contacting me-?!” He exclaimed in confusion.

“It work! Mavvy! Calm! Can tell you have many question, but Mavvy not need fear; Will explain!” Robbie’s slightly raspy voice told him. It sounded like the zombie was... overjoyed to hear from him? But... Didn’t he remember the outburst..? Did... Did he not care?

“... Well..?” His voice shimmered hopefully, but it was muffled by the anticipation and fear that hung heavily on his soul.

“Henry left ghost communicator on table! Thought maybe I could contact Mavvy with gadget! Was worried would not work, but very glad it did!” Robbie exclaimed happily.

“... He left what now?”

“Ghost communicator! Jamie and me use ghost communicator for speak to Jackie and Chase when Mavvy was being mean!” He could almost hear the overjoyed grin Robbie must’ve had plastered on his face, “Mavvy come to park, yes? Want speak in person!”

“Uh... Listen, um, Robs... I’m... Sorta not in control of myself anymore, if that makes any sense..? I, uh, may or may not have been kicked out about a month ago... ‘ve no clue what happened between the fight with Anti and today, honestly... I... sorta blacked out. Jackie’s last words to me were pretty painful...”

“Oh! Understand! Is okay! Will just find you instead! Ghost communicator also locate ghost!” Robbie beamed.

“... That’s not a good idea, Robs... Look, just... Give me a few days. I’ll need time to do what I plan to do, but if it works out well, I... Things should be back to normal soon, okay..?” Marvin said softly, his heart heavy in his chest, as he knew it wasn’t true. His brothers... they... they’d never forgive him for what he did...

Yeah, that’s right... yǫu’ll͠ ǹever ҉be ͡fo̵r̛gi̵v͞eń,҉ ̷M̸a̡r̢v͢iņ. ̧Y͟o͘u’r͏e ͜all ̛al̡o͠n̵e͠.͜.͠. ̨I̢ń ͜f͟act̴, I͟ ̸bet҉ ͟th̢at͞ ̸t̢h͢i͢s̴ w͏h͏o̷l͢e̕ thi͝n̛g ̡is ̨all͞ à ͝ĺi̛e̷. R͡obb̧ie ͢d͠o͜e͞sn’͡t̶ w̸a̷nt͠ to t҉al̡ķ.͝ He̷ ̛w͢a̡n͢ts ̸t̶ó lu҉re͘ ̛you int̸o a̸ ̵t̛rap.͡.̨.̵ Y̛ou c̴a͏n̛’͞t t̨r͟ust t́hem̛ ̷a̴ny͟m̀o̡re..͝.̨

He clenched his teeth as the thought came to mind. He had no clue why these thoughts were even there, but they’d been plaguing him since he came to. He couldn’t pin the voice in it, either. The sound was far to glitched and distorted to have any meaningful, recognizable pitch. God, he hated not knowing what was going on.

“Okeh! Will wait! Is fine! Mavvy is okay, yes? Mavvy remembering PMA?” Robbie’s last question almost made Marvin choke in surprise. Okay, yeah, sure, Robbie was probably the most positive of their group, but..? He’d never outright stated such a thing before, so it did happen to take him by surprise.

“H-heh... U-uh... Y.. Yep! I’m... I’m doing fine, Robs... Talk to ya later, ‘kay?”

“M’keh! Hope Mavvy plan work!”

~~~~

“R҉ìs̴e ̵a͟n̨d ͟shi͝ne,̷ m͏y̡ friend.͜ ͢Y̷ou͞’̵v͞e ̧been ̷as͜lee̶p ҉for f̕ar̵ ͞toó ͘lo̵n̢g..͠..͞” A figure stood over the limp, frozen body that belonged to this world’s Anti, the only visible features on its face being a sadistic grin, and its eyes, which held a faint red and green glow. A faint green light began to radiate around Initiative, and he coughed faintly as he slowly got up, and tilted his head to glare at the newcomer.

“Giv̢e me҉ ͢o͠n̴e ̢goo͢d̢ ̶rea͢son ̡n̡o̕t̷ tò t̀ęa̶r̸ y͡o͝u͠r gu̡t̨ś ͡oưt͡ r͏ight̵ ḩe͏re ͜and͟ n̵ow̕, ͏jus̷t fo̢r͠ tr̶essp̨as̷s͡ing ̡i͜n͞ ̕m͜y҉ wo̡rld͠!”

~~~~

[November 22nd]

Marvin managed to return to his body, and gasped desperately for air as soon as he regained control, as though he had been holding his breath the entire time he’d been out of control. He looked around wildly, his emotions and anxieties returning all at once, as his ability to feel, which had been lessened without the help of his body’s input, suddenly rammed back to his mind’s registry all at once. His eyes were wide, as he slowly got a grip of the surrounding world. He... Was this his pocket dimension?! God, he hoped so. Otherwise, he must’ve chosen a really stupid place to pass out for about a month in. Just as he started calming down, he sensed the atmosphere in the mostly pale-gold dimension change to something more sinister, and something inside of him screamed for him to run.

A shrill bout of distorted, maniacal laughter errupted from behind him, accompanied by fast footsteps, which were evidently getting closer, and he took that as his cue to get the hell out of there. As he ran, he noticed a rift in the dimension in the distance, and bolted straight for it, as a knife flew past him, inches away from skimming his flesh. He shot some offensive spells towards the demon he knew was following him, though, he didn’t really pay any attention to what the spells were. He took note that the rift was very clearly shrinking in size, albeit at a slow pace, and sped up a bit.

No͟w’̢s̡ y͟ou̷r ̸chan̕ce,͞ Ma͡rv̡in! Use̢ ̀ơn̢e̕ ̵of͠ the ͘i͠n̸p̀ri̵sonm̧e��nt ̛spells ̸o͜n͡ ͞him ҉w̨hi̛l̷e͘ ͞he’s d̡o̕wń.҉ ͞Yo҉u wo͏n’̶t ̴ge̷t ́aņo̶the̡r ̢c͟ha̸n̶ce̴ to͢ ͠kȩep̛ h́im ̸con̢t͘ain͢e̛d!

There it was again! Couldn’t that damned voice’s owner just leave him alone?! He wasn’t stupid, he knew they were trying to sabotage him!

No͘w, ̀nơw,̨ Ma̧r̴vi̷n.͏.̸. Th͟e͟r͜e’̵s͘ ņo n͜e҉ed ̶to͠ ̶b̕è so̴ ŗųd̀e. I͞’͝m ̴on͢ĺy ̸try͡ìng͝ ͝to̶ help.

... Shit, they can read his thoughts? Agh, nevermind that! He knew he had to get somewhere less open, and that’s all that mattered!

He got to the rift, and without even so much as a thought about what he was doing, he jumped through, just as it sealed itself. He realized he’d closed his eyes as he went through, and opened them after a few moments of hesitation. When he did, however, he regretted it, because he found that he was in some sort of interdimensional void, falling head-first towards an unseen point, as random objects and such seemed to float around him. He swiftly went over all the spells he knew, searching desperately for one that would bring him home. When he got to the one he’d usually used to travel between his pocket dimension and the real world, he took a deep breath, and cast it so that he would fall straight into the portal.

He set the coordinates to a secluded area in the woodlands of one of the parks he sometimes visited when clearing his head, and grinned to himself when he saw the portal open up. Within no time, he shot through it, and realized he had accidentally set it to drop him directly onto the ground.

He yelped in pain when he slammed into the earth nearly headfirst with a sickening thud, his hearing briefly getting taken over by a shrill ringing sound. His head was spinning painfully, and he figured he’d probably need to get medical attention soon, since he at least had a concussion. He shakily stood up after a few moments of battling his instincts, which screamed for him to stay where he was, as his vision swirled and spun, while he staggered to keep himself standing. He knew it was a long shot now that he was back in his body, but he figured if he tried to contact Robbie through the locator again, he could possibly direct the zombie to his approximate location. He stumbled over to a tree, clutching his chest with one hand, and grabbing onto the tree for support with the other, or, at least, he tried to. He cursed under his breath as pain shot through his arm, and he figured he must’ve landed on it wrong, so, instead of agitating it further, he just leaned against the tree.

“R.. Robbie... C-Can you hear me..?” He wheezed, despite the pain that seared through his chest as he spoke. His vision was blurring again, so, he turned a little, and slid to the ground, sitting with his back propped up against the tree.

A few minutes passed, and he started loosing hope, until finally, he heard, “Mavvy! Did plan work?”

“Y-.. Yeah.. I think I’m... Injured badly, though.” He said, a few weakened coughs interrupting his speech.

“Injury?! Where Mavvy?! Will bring Henry, no worry!” Robbie was clearly very worried.

“Wh- No-! No. No Henrik. Jus- Just come alone, okay? Get- Get JJ to send an ambulance to the park, alright?”

“Why? Henry still mad?”

“Mos.. Most likely, y..yeah.” God, it hurt to admit that.

“Okeh then! Will tell Jamie, then come find Mavvy!”

“Thank you for understanding, Robs.”

“Is not hard!”

After that, everything sort of blurred together, and everything seemed to slow down, as his ears began ringing again. He knew he was close to passing out, but if he had any control over it, he wasn’t going to pass out until he knew he was safe.

S̀e̛e̴ w̸h̴a̸t̕ h͢àp͜p̀e̡ns w̛h͠en̕ ́you̷ ḑon’͝t̸ li͏s͡ten͡? ̧Th͡i͟s̨ ̴who͟l̸e̡ ͏s͝itu͞a̸ti͏o̷ǹ ͜co͟ul҉d h́av̴e b͡e̛e̢n ͢a̕voiḑed ̸i̸f y̛o͞u͟ h͝ad͝ ju͟s͠t҉ list҉ene̴d͢ ̷to̶ ͝me when̕ ͢I̶ ̵t͝o̢ld ̧y͝o̸u ̵t̢o ͘ųśe̴ ̷the͡ i̧np͡ris̵o͠nm͠e̷n̡t̡ spells.̧

He barely even registered the thought in his broken state, as his mind spun wildly, to the point that he couldn’t even tell whether he was thinking or not.

Just as he thought Robbie was never going to come to his aid, he heard the zombie yelling his name. In no time, he was by his side, and with JJ’s help, he pulled Marvin to his feet, and the two of them carried him for a bit. He could hear sirens at some point, and as his vision, which still spun, slowly started to fade, he was placed on a stretcher. The ringing in his ears was so loud by now that the voices of the EMTs and his youngest brothers were muffled beyond recognition.

After that, everything went black, and he woke up surrounded by darkness.

“O͘h de͝a͢r...̷ ͏loo҉ks̕ lik͠e̡ ̀y͡ơu̴r ̵m̴ista̡k̵e̶s҉ ̧en͝ded up ̴p͞utt̴ing͟ y҉ou ͜i͜n͞ a͏ ba͟d ̕s҉i̶t̛uat͢i͏o̧n̸ ̕y͏e҉t a͏gain... I̛t҉’s͟ ͠à ͜shame͡,̴ r̡ea͠l͟l̢y.̧ ̶To ͡t͝h̢ink ̢t̶his ̨co̷u̢ld͢’ve ̶a̛ll͜ ̶b҉èe͘n avoidèd̵ ̡if͝ ̶yo͝u̵’͜d́ ͏júst ļist͘e͢nèd͢ t͡ò ̵m͟e.͘” The voice was all around him now. He looked around, and found a large “screen” was behind him. On it, he could see a human’s face, however, their eyes were impossible to make out. From what he could see, however, it was a face much like his, and by effect, the rest of the egos’.

“What the hell do you want from me? Who are you?” He snapped, glaring boldly at the screen, his eyes seeming to glow dimly in the darkness with agitation.

“A͜h,̛ ̵ah͠,̶ ah, ̧M̧ar̛vi͟n.̡ ̡Ḑo͡n’͠t ̷you ͠thi͟nk ̀y̶o̧u’r͜e̶ ͘ge̡t͠ti͘ng ̶a̕ b͏it ̨too̴ ̴f̕iesty͝? ̕Y̕ou͡ s҉h͡ou͘ld n͘èver ̸q̀uestiòn͘ t̀ho̸s̶e ̨who̴ ̀aŕe onlý ̧tr̸yi͢n̵g ͠t͡o͡ ̷hèl҉p. I͘ thou͡g̛h̀t͏ ͝you’̕d̡ ͘kn̢o̕w tha̴t̵ by͏ ͘n͟o̕w͠.͝”

Ouch.

“Just answer the damn questions!” He spat, having to restrain himself from breaking the screen in front of him. They seemed to consider it, however, a distant, muffled voice calling his name interrupted.

“O͡h͝,̕ d͡o ̕ỳou ̴h҉ea̵r ͏t͟haţ? I ̧t͞h̡ink̸ you̧r̢ f͏rien҉dś are͡ ̡ge̛ţt͝i͞n̢g ̷des͝per̨a̴t̛e͝ to͟ se̸e y͝oư o͡kay̕.҉.͜.͝ I͟ h̢àd b̛e̸s̛t b̕e͟ ́l̕ea͏ving,҉ t͘he҉n͘.̧”

“Hey! Wait, no! I’m not done with y-!” He began to protest, but the screen shut off before he could finish, leaving him in total darkness, and still pretty freakin’ pissed.

~~~~

Henrik watched skeptically from the doorway as Robbie repeatedly called out to Marvin, who was unconscious, and in a hopsital bed. The magician had apparently provided no explanation for his substantial amount of injuries, but if he had to take a guess, it was probably a result of him failing to properly place one of his interdimensional portals so that he didn’t slam into the ground at a ridiculously high speed. Last time it’d happened, though, he’d slammed into the roof of the Egos’ house from about three feet up. Given the amount of bone fractures in comparison to scrapes, it’s probably safe to say that he learned something from that little incident, though.

A few minutes went by, and Marvin finally stirred. Henrik tensed, preparing to see the corrupt, violent magician he’d seen only a month ago, but shockingly, his eyes held a much softer, more human look than they had before. One thing was certain, though- Marvin wasn’t at his full strength, even without his injuries. In the back of his head, he started to wonder if perhaps, Marvin had actually managed to undo the damage he’d done to his sanity.

“Mavvy!” Robbie cheered happily, instantly jumping to gently hug his brother.

The magician hesitantly returned the gesture with the one arm that was actually functional, trembling a small bit as he did so, “Wh...? Oh, hey Robs... Where’s JJ..?”

“Jamie outside hospital! Will go get him! Henry keep Mavvy company, yes?” Robbie looked at him when he mentioned his name. Henrik blinked uncertainly for a second, and rolled his eyes.

“... Sure, why not.” He said, taking note that Marvin looked hurt by the harsh tone in his voice. Robbie grinned, let go of Marvin, and darted out of the room.

Marvin looked elsewhere as soon as Robbie was gone, nervously holding his broken arm with his functional one. Henrik sighed, and walked over to the bedside, staring disapprovingly at the idiot he’d thought had left for good.

“You better have a damn good explanation for the panic you caused, Magician.” His voice dripped with annoyance and a slight drop of hatred; He clearly still hadn’t forgiven him, and had no reason to hide it.

“... I.. Not... Not really... After Jackie and Seán left me alone in Anti’s void, I... I sorta went to my pocket dimension, and my mind just... blacked out for almost a month... After that, I woke up, regained control of myself, and.. well... Found out the hard way that someone freed Anti, and showed him how to access my pocket dimension.”

“That does not explain the broken bones, you dummkopf!”

“... I... may or may not have... jumped through a rift without thinking..?” He laughed nervously.

Henrik facepalmed, pinching the bridge of his nose, and shook his head, “Why am I not surprised?”

“...” A few minutes of awkward silence passed.

“Mavvy! Mavvy still awake?” Robbie practically bounced into the room, breaking the awkward silence. Marvin waved shyly, clearly relieved to see them back.

“Ah! So it is true! You’re in stable condition again. Thank heavens.” Jameson signed, smiling happily.

Marvin appearred to attempt a nod, but stopped, and responded instead, “... ‘S good to see you, too, Jamie.”

“Is everything alright, Marvin?”

“... Y-Yeah. Just... thinking. That’s all..” Henrik could tell he wasn’t telling the entire truth, but he didn’t say anything. He just narrowed his eyes suspiciously at him, since this was a bad time to get worked up over this type of thing, and stress out Marvin further.

~~~~

Ļo̢o͟k at y̢oú.͏.͝.̕ ̸The̢y̸ ͜hav̨e ͞y̵o̡u r͝i̢gh͠t̵ ͢wh͟er͠e ҉t͟h́ey̴ ͟w̨a̢n͡t͏ yo̕ư.͞.̨. ͠We̶akeņe̵d̴, ͠a͜nd ͠eńti̴r҉e͡ly̶ a҉t͡ ̛t̨hei͏r̨ m͞e͢r͝cỳ.̶.. ̧T͠h͏ey̴ c͞oùld̸ wa̢l͏k r̡igh̕t ͟ųp̨ ̢ţo͏ ̷yo̶ú ̵and ̕s̀nap̧ ͞you̸r̀ ͢néck at an͟y̷ mo̧me̸n̷t̢.̀ ͞N͡o̡t̛h̕i̕ng’҉s st͠op͞pi̢ng͜ ҉them̛ fr̢om dòi̡ng̷ it̛.

He internally cringed, knowing full well that it was true. If they wanted to, they could easily kill him right here and now. They could go to Seán or Jackie and get them to help hide the evidence. And the worst part about that was that regardless of who they asked, the answer would, without a doubt, be yes. They all hated him now. And he couldn’t blame anyone but himself for it, either. Henrik narrowed his eyes at him, and he knew he could tell there was something off with him. He felt his heart sinking hopelessly for what seemed like ages, until Henrik finally turned tail and left the room. Robbie came back to the chair by the bedside, and JJ joined him, sitting in the chair next to Robbie’s.

He silently took in a deep breath, trying to prepare himself to say what they were all probably thinking, “... Well, now’s your chance.”

“What?”

“There’s no one else here to see or stop you. You want revenge, right?” He refused to look anywhere but down. Robbie was speechless, staring at him with a look that was some cross between upset, concerned, and confused.

Jameson’s face was filled with worry as he frantically signed, “Marvin, what ever made you think such a thing?!”

“Oh, come on, JJ! I hurt you guys! I.. I accidentally kicked Chase out of his body! I... betrayed you. All of you... And... The worst part is? I didn’t even regret it... Actually, a part of me... enjoyed it..” He trailed off, as tears began threatening to spill from his tear ducts.

“Marvin, listen to yourself! You clearly regret it now! That’s saying something. Besides, I’ve already forgiven you. I know you did not do what you did out of malice; you thought you were doing what was right.”

“Yeah! Forgave Mavvy when he try to heal Henry.” Robbie commented, grinning childishly again, though, there was a more serious, determined glint in his eyes this time.

“... You... wh-why...? I’m... I turned myself into a monster..! Why... How can you forgive me so easily..?” He choked out, as the first tear finally managed to fall.

“Because you’re our brother... And, well, we weren’t mad in the first place..” JJ smiled sympathetically.

Marvin held back a grunt of slightly pained surprise as Robbie practically glomped him, and soon, JJ joined the hug, too. He let out a shaky laugh, which easily could’ve been a sob, as the rest of the tears that were built up began to fall silently.

~~~~

Henrik sat outside the hospital room, his head in his hands, as he listened to the conversation going on in there. God, how could he have been such a dick to Marvin?! It was obvious that he’d gone almost completely back to normal since he last saw him! His mental condition had obviously not fared well after the events that transpired the last time they saw one another, and he just had to go and shove his pain down his throat, didn’t he? Probably didn’t help that he was completely helpless in the condition that he was in. Oh, how he wished he could take it all back, go in there, and hug Marvin until he stopped crying...

——————————————————

Next chapter

Oops, ran out of room! Sorry for the long chapter! I had to try and stretch the writing of this one out as long as I could, so I would end up finishing on Thanksgiving. Of course, I sorta forgot Thanksgiving was next thursday, not tomorrow... Oops..? Anyways, I didn’t get to actually finish this in the way I wanted to. Tumblr’s being picky about the amount of paragraphs, so I kinda had to remove a few things. But god damn, this fic was a total emotional ride to write! Between working Marvin into a more 3-Dimensional, lovable character with a lot of sadness in his poor ol’ heart, and writing the last two scenes, my heart died a million deaths for this one. Thankfully, though, I seem to be unable to cry when I’m not alone, so no tears were shed over the character development!

@antis-loyal-puppet , @chaoticcrimsonrose , @tiny-septic-puppet , @septic-dr-schneep