#embrace ennui

[ozzgin]

content: gender neutral reader, religious themes, blasphemy, NSFW, horror

Something is wrong with your beloved Angel, yet you cannot place the dreadful feeling in the depths of your stomach. Perhaps you weren't made to comprehend such divine truths.

5. Honour thy father and thy mother

It was birthed from the void of the Heavens. No parent governs over its will. No being controls its resolve.

Father...? The word rings and echoes across ancient times, forgotten eons. It does not remember its meaning. All it knows is you, and you are enough.

4. Remember the sabbath day, to keep it holy

"Six days you shall labor, but the seventh day is the Sabbath of the Lord, your God." Of course. The law is clear, or at least it should be. Its mind navigates the meaning, suddenly engulfed by a mysterious haze.

Six days it labors, it serves, it worships. It exists for you, to please you and fulfill your desires. Your wish is its command.

Six days of creation. It has been molded just for you, to fit all the nooks and corners of your body and soul. You have taught it how to love, how to crave, how to need. It starves for your touch.

3. Thou shalt not take the name of the Lord thy God in vain

"Oh, God", you cry, clinging to the holy beast. It shivers in raw bliss, its many hands embracing your lewd body, drooling and panting in unquenchable desire. Its mind is possessed by one singular thought: to breed you, to own you, to fuck more profanities out of your pretty, little mouth.

The word swirls inside its head, baptized to a new sense: God is when you reach your peak, when you're within its voracious hold. Your trembling hands reach for the horns.

2. Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image

It yearns to create, to be the architect for once. Your home is littered in unfinished pieces: bizarre, geometrical paintings, abstract statues chiseled in most refined detail, music sheets of notes foreign to your human ears. All of them have something in common - it's how the Angel perceives you.

You fill up its senses, and the essence drips onto its works of art. It gathers the objects of worship together, like the outline of an altar, like an inviting chamber of prayer.

1 Thou shalt have no other gods before me

The abyssal creature bows before you, its many eyes devouring your form. The long, black claws reach out, like a beggar scraping its way out of the depths of ennui.

You're a blessing from the Heavens.

[Navigation] | [Ozztober Masterlist] | [First Half]

[minispidey]

01. Unclaimed Wedding Vows.

Duke James 'Logan' Howlett x f!reader CHAPTER ONE: THE LADY'S DILEMMA

warnings: besides me being extra descriptive, none. Leclaire is just a random last name for reader's family, and isn't coded as any race. OLD MAN LOGAN! ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I had a dictionary and a dream.

summary: A new season has dawned for you, Lady Leclaire, and this time, the stakes are higher. Your father is encouraging you to seek out a suitor, a contrast to the previous season when you made your debut but remained a mere spectator, and avoided the social whirl around you. This year, none of the debutants have managed to capture the queen's eye... that is, until the arrival of Duke James Howlett, who has unexpectedly entered the market. His entrance has changed the dynamics of the season entirely, bringing in whispers of intrigue and the promise of romance.

word count: 4.1k no beta we dying like logan 2017 (edit 12/7/24: edited some parts that i thought weren't needed. It just really stretches out the story. Anyways as usual, english is not my first language)

series masterlist.

The Queen is no stranger to the drama and heartache that come with reluctant or unfortunate brides and grooms—after all, her children often create quite the spectacle. The quest for the perfect match is a thrilling dilemma shared by every woman, even the Queen herself.

Under the dulcet tones of courtly sounds, a buzz of pressure was felt as the mamas whispered amongst themselves, feeling that they were up against unfair competition. With every new lady, the stakes climbed higher, and the probability of their daughters getting one of those marvelous matches became even smaller.

All the mamas, except for yours, panicked. You stood among the other women after being cooped up for the entire season. This time, you felt trapped, as your father had finally returned home to guide you.

You watched intently as each young lady glided toward the Queen, curtsying with grace and poise, only to be waved away almost instantly. The Queen sat majestically on her throne, appearing bored, her eyes glancing over the newcomers without a flicker of curiosity or admiration. Each presentation seemed to blend into the next, as though she were trapped in a routine, her expression one of deep ennui. It was clear she had encountered countless hopefuls before, and they were nothing more than fleeting shadows in her world.

"And I assume you didn't have the opportunity to introduce yourself to the Queen during the last season?" your father inquired, his gaze fixed intently on the unfolding presentation.

You released a quiet exhale. "I did not."

"Perhaps it is not too late to gain her blessing then."

You shut your eyes tightly, yearning for the comforting embrace of your soft blankets, wrapped securely in the sanctuary of your bedroom. The dim light of the suffocating room pressed in on you, making every breath feel heavy and labored. Even the tiny, cramped space beneath a table offered a sense of solace, an escape from the atmosphere that surrounded you.

"I believe I do not need the Queen's blessing to gain a husband." You opened your eyes and met the gaze of the men across the room, all ogling you and vying for your attention.

"But it certainly would help."

"Father." As you turned your head to meet his gaze, he gently pressed two fingers against your cheek, a firm yet tender gesture that redirected your focus back to the Queen. The movement felt like a subtle command, leaving you with a sense of unease.

Everyone knew Lord Leclaire’s sweet but spoiled daughter. You were the cherished only child of his first love, a woman whose memory lingered like a delicate perfume throughout the halls. As the sole offspring of a father who mourned a lost love, you basked in the benefits that came with being the only child of a wealthy widower. One of the most significant perks was the freedom to indulge in every whim, as your father poured his affection and resources solely into you, ensuring that your every desire was met with lavish gifts and endless attention.

Deep down, you understood that you were worthy of nothing less than the finest luxuries.

You favored silk that cascaded softly against your skin over any mere satin; you would always choose a decadent cake, rich with layers of flavor, instead of a simple slice of bread. Lace trim, with its intricate beauty, was your preference over the ordinary ribbons that could never capture the same elegance.

It is no different for your future husband. While your father and governess might worry that your high standards would scare men away, the reality is quite the contrary. Instead of feeling intimidated, they find themselves irresistibly drawn to you, captivated by the magnetic allure that lies behind your icy gaze. Even with the cool, distant expression on your features, it only seems to heighten their curiosity and determination, making them yearn to uncover the warmth that they sense lies beneath.

You chose to disregard the men around you, even those who struggled to position themselves beside you. Each one of them was aware of your allure, for you were undeniably the most desirable woman in the room.

There no doubt that you knew exactly what you wanted.

The ideal husband embodies a man of immense respect and admiration within his community, someone whose character and achievements inspire others. He possesses a substantial income that not only assures financial stability but also enables a luxurious lifestyle adorned with beautiful estates and properties. Above all, he shall be someone with whom you share a deep emotional connection, a person who ignites your heart and soul, making you genuinely fall in love.

Even in tough times, your heart stayed open to romance, a belief instilled by your parents' words on love's power. They taught you that every love story holds magic, so you refused to settle for less than your ideals. The thought of growing old alone felt better than being with someone who didn’t meet your high standards for love.

Some mamas convince their daughters to settle for what they can have, and luckily (or unluckily), your mother had passed away so she had no say in who you would marry. But if she were alive, she would encourage you to keep searching for the one.

You sat in front of your dressing table as your father delicately placed down each one of the gifts he bought for you on your soft carpeted floor. All the boxes were wrapped with bright paper and ribbons that shone under soft light.

You absent-mindedly played with a chest filled with a variety of trinkets: delicate porcelain figurines of cats, shimmering glass beads, and rusty old coins, each speaking of far-off places.

"That presentation was a disaster, if I may say so, Father," you remarked. "The Queen seemed unsatisfied and I feel very bad for those young ladies involved."

"Don't worry, my dear. All the young ladies will have another opportunity to flatter the Queen tonight when she hosts her ball," your father said softly, a gentle smile spreading across his face.

He put a slice of cake in front of you, the scent of vanilla and frosting wafting up to greet your senses. "I just brought it home this afternoon. It seemed to be quite the hit at the bakery."

"Even so, the Queen is fussy. She knows exactly what she wants and exactly what she deserves." And you accepted a slice of cake from him, bit into it, and he made no allowance for such an unladylike manner.

"She knows her choice cannot be just a simple lady—someone who can proudly yet modestly reveal she is Her Majesty's favorite, embodying every trait a lady possesses or desires."

You stood up from your mirror and stepped out onto the balcony. The breeze tousled your hair while the sun danced across your skin. Your presence startled a cluster of doves on the railings, who flew away in a flurry of white feathers.

"Perhaps I have a chance..."

Your father smiled, thinking that you would seek the favor of the Queen and then secure a place of honor in her court. However, as he smiled at you with that gleam of expectation in his eyes, your thoughts went elsewhere. You couldn't help but think that if the Queen wielded the power to select her favored ones, then surely you too could find a husband who meets your expectations— someone who embodies those qualities you want and actually deserves your heart.

Far from the Leclaire house, a lavish carriage adorned with intricate gold detailing, and luxurious silk stopped in front of the Queen's grand palace. The arrival drew the eyes of the servants peering from the ornate windows, their breaths caught in awe as the distinguished Duke Howlett stepped out. His walk was far from graceful, marked by a heavy, almost cumbersome stride; yet, with every step he took, he demanded the whole world’s attention, as if the very air shifted at his presence.

The Queen sat on her throne, her heart fluttering with anticipation for her friend’s arrival. She clapped her hands twice, signaling the musicians to stop. As silence enveloped the grand hall, she took a deep breath, savoring the stillness before her friend's entrance.

The elderly man slowly stepped into the room, his soft curled silver hair glinting softly in the light as he bowed his head, a gesture of respect. A sharp jolt of pain surged through his back, causing him to stifle a groan that escaped his lips. His frame remained strong, but telltale signs of age were etched on his skin, and shaking his hands revealed fragility in his bones.

"Is that as low as you can go, old man?" the Queen raised an eyebrow.

The Duke exhaled softly, a hint of relief washing over him as he straightened his posture, pulling his shoulders back. "If I could humble myself any further, Your Majesty," he said with a wry smile, "I would find myself six feet under."

"Logan! My dearest friend, why have you come?" A chuckle escaped the Queen. "I suppose you will be joining the gentlemen this season to search for a bride. You are getting, oh so very old."

With a long sigh, he nodded. "And you would be right."

The Queen drops her cup of tea and her eyes are blown wide open. "Are you trying to kill me? I could have you executed for attempting to do so." she laughed loudly.

"I am the last Howlett. If I want to continue my family name, I need a wife to bear my children." Logan coughed into a handkerchief before quickly composing himself. "Any lady will do, as long as she won't disturb me."

"Nonsense!" the Queen exclaimed, clapping her hands loudly and surprising her ladies, who were busy cleaning up the spilled tea and the broken cup. "You are a highly respected man. A Duke! Do you think I would allow you to marry a simple lady? You shall marry my diamond!"

"While Her Majesty is very kind, I would prefer not to spend too much time searching."

"I know I am very kind," the Queen huffed. "For I would be the one spending too much time looking— I was not even planning on looking for one. You are very welcome."

"I am not very selective, Your Majesty. Any lady will suffice." The Duke shook his head.

"Then you should have married a maid," the Queen said, cutting off the Duke's response with a raised hand. "I do not tolerate objections. I am doing you a favor, and it is an insult to refuse a gift. As your most humble and loyal friend, I cannot accept your decision to marry merely any lady."

From a tender age, the Duke was aware of the dynamics that surrounded individuals of high status. Placed in the role of Duke early in life, he quickly became the center of attention, a figure that drew gaze and admiration from all. At lavish gatherings, young ladies would shamelessly fight for his attention, their motives often far from innocent. Such experiences led him to retreat from the social scene altogether, burying himself in the labyrinthine of his duties.

Years passed since then, and while he amassed vast wealth and commanded respect, the relentless march of time had etched deeper lines into his visage, a testament to his toil. In his pursuit of success, the concept of legacy slipped through his fingers like sand. The urgency of fatherhood, the need to secure a successor to inherit the family fortune and the sprawling estates, faded into the background, overshadowed by the relentless demands of his work.

He retraced his steps through the grand palace hallways, made elegant with tapestries and chandeliers that spoke of the royal family's rich history. The scent of polished wood lingered in the air as he entered his carriage.

As the carriage rolled through the bustling streets of London, he gazed out at the vibrant city. He was heading to his estate—a property that had been neglected from his infrequent visits. Despite its silence and overgrown gardens, he had ensured everything was prepared, as this time he sought a bride.

The estate needed to be more than just a residence; it had to convey wealth and status, a place where a future wife could envision a life of comfort and elegance. As he approached the imposing estate between tall trees and trimmed hedges, a shiver ran down his spine.

Change loomed over him like a storm cloud, heavy and foreboding. Everyone knew that the Duke didn't take kindly to anything that came between himself and his well-planned world.

In a dazzling celebration marking the start of the season, the Queen organized a magnificent ball.

The grand ballroom was decked with sparkling chandeliers, and the air carried the sweet melodies of an orchestra that enticed everyone to dance. The Queen initially wanted not to attend her ball at all. Her change of mind came when there was the unexpected arrival of Duke James Howlett - a man of nobility seeking a worthy Duchess. His presence sparked great commotion, forcing the Queen to reverse her decision and plunge deep into the celebration before her. Everyone moved graciously in unity across the polished floor within the grand ballroom while soft, sweet melodies filtered in the air from the orchestra, wrapping around each of the elegantly attired couples and bouncing off the ceiling lined with sparkling chandeliers.

Amidst the vibrant gathering, you stood there elegantly commanding the room's attention. The soft murmur of admiration reverberated in the air as captivated gazes fell upon you like the breaking of the clouds. Your beauty shone with an enchanting glow and drew intrigued whispers from those around you. The debutantes, dressed in their finest, exchanged glances, all in agreement that you were the epitome of allure, the most desirable woman present.

The men ogled, all desiring you— the impossible. You glanced at them with a sharp look in your eye, ready to pounce and overpower those who dared to come too close. Intimidation ran through the veins of the LeClaire family, a legacy passed down through generations as an artful weapon to draw out the right partner. Your father never quite mastered it, but you had it in spades.

A coarse hand jerked you against the warmth of a muscular body. You gasped sharply, your breath catching as crimson wine splattered across your silk dress, the bright stain blooming like a dark flower against the delicate fabric. Turning to face the source of this unexpected collision, you saw the culprit—a flustered figure retreating into the collar of his tailored suit, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Now you are looking at the rough, ancient man that pulled you against his chest. For a moment you were lost in the green depth of his eyes: the color of a rain-soaked forest. But then, with a sharp jolt, you feel yourself pulling away from his grasp, looking back to the deep red stain on your dress.

"This is silk-" you hissed, your voice laced with barely controlled anger that threatened to bubble over at any moment, like a pot that is about to boil over. Every fiber of your body was aflame with fury as you clutched the fabric, feeling the smooth texture slip through your fingers, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within you.

Before you can vent your pent-up anger, a voice cuts in on you, surprising you by its calmness. "On behalf of the gentleman, I profoundly apologize, my lady," the old man says, his face showing a hint of concern. His eyes meet yours for a moment before he adds, "I will summon a servant immediately to assist you."

His voice slowly relieved the fiery tension within your heart. You took a deep breath, feeling centered "I accept your apology," you responded with an elegant curtsy as if to hold off the weight of the moment. "However, I feel I should retire for the night."

You watch as he opens his mouth, in probable protest, and you spin on your heel, cutting him off before a single word escaped his lips. The atmosphere in the room grew stressful, as if it was squeezing the air from your lungs.

Every glance is like a sharp dart, piercing through you, and one can almost hear the stifled giggles that lie just under the surface. The picture remains in your head: this once-towering ice princess, now reduced to become the target of their teasing, a crimson wine stain spreading like an unwanted prophecy across her elegant dress, an emblem of the embarrassment from the evening.

You stepped warily through the garden, surrounded by the sweet scent of flowers when suddenly a firm hand gripped your wrist.

You turned around quickly with that swift pull and lost your airy handkerchief. As you regained your balance, you looked up at the grizzled old man, his face a weathered map of worry. "My lady," he said, his voice gravelly yet warm, "please don't go just because a gentleman has clumsily spilled a drink upon your dress."

"I've never been one to enjoy parties," you said, your voice almost whispering above the din of conversation around you. You looked down at the dark red wine stain that seemed to mar the elegant weave of your dress. Your sigh was heavy as you continued, "I want only to go home. This accident is just the right reason to slip away."

He bows his head once more as an apology.

As you moved out of the grand palace, the old man lifted his head, and you caught a glimpse of your eyes for a moment as you passed. You half-turned, nodding towards your footman, who stood there just beyond the entrance. At your signal, he ran off, the fine weave of his livery rustling a little as he hastened to summon the carriage.

The afternoon light seeps through the curtains, and your eyes linger on the deep red stains your dress still bears from last night. Running your hand absent-mindedly over the silk, you hear the creak of the door as your maids enter the room.

"My lady," one of the called you, her voice full of excitement. "A package has arrived for you."

They cautiously approached your bed, where a huge light blue box was lying there. It was shrouded in beautiful wrappings, the expensive and opulent silk ribbon beautifully cascading over it. This sight made you curious; hence, you drew nearer to it.

"Who is it from?" Your fingers played gently with the smooth ribbon that bordered the box, feeling its softness as you waited for the surprise inside.

"We cannot say for sure, my lady," the maid said, furrowing her brow with worry. "What are we to do with it? Are we to throw it away?"

"No, I assure you, it is alright." you said, fingers twitching slightly as you fumbled to loosen the flimsy ribbon securing the tie. You gave it a gentle tug, unfolding the layers of paper under your fingers like delicate silken petals.

As you opened the box with utmost care, your gaze fell on a letter in it. The letter had a deep red wax for its seal, and this was stamped with an intricately designed crest that instantly took your breath away. This was undoubtedly a Duke's crest. A feeling of awe swept over you as you softly gasped and stood up in shock. HOWLETT.

"I don't believe it."

You ran back, your breath coming up in expectation as you unfolded the thin tissue paper that covered an amazing sight.

Lying before you was a gown unlike any you had ever seen—a vision of beauty and majesty. The silk shone dimly in the light, and its texture spoke of the skill of the finest artisans in the land. Your heart races for the reality of what actually had happened at the ball the other night: a real apology at the hands of a duke— and this beautiful gown. It's too ridiculous to think that he— the duke would hand to you something this private for you.

Was he scouting you as a potential Duchess?

You could hardly suppress an excited squeal as you sent your maids off, hoping for a few minutes to yourself. Holding the dress up against your chest, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, mesmerized by its beauty. Reaching your bed, you snatched the letter.

As you read the Duke's letter that accompanied the dress, newspapers fluttered all over town with their front pages splashed with the face of Duke James Howlett. His face was everywhere—the center of attention since last night's ball when whispers and glances revealed he was after a wife to elevate to duchess status.

Despite his age, the mamas eagerly nudged their debutantes to charm the Duke. After all, they had high hopes for a prestigious match in high society.

Every lady in town eagerly flocked to the modiste, set on getting new exquisite gowns that would dazzle the Duke at the upcoming ball. Silks and satins fluttered in the air as they envisioned the moment he would notice their carefully crafted attire. Meanwhile, the Duke, unaware of the flurry he inspired, focused on matters far different from the shimmering dresses vying for his attention.

Like when he received the dress he gave you.

"What is this?" he said raising his eyebrow, curiosity dancing across his eyes as he observed the box that his servant held in both hands, the elegant packaging soft to the touch, a deep light blue, and silky ribbon tied across it shining under the warm light of the room. It was that gift he had picked up for you, and couldn't help but wonder at what your reaction had been when you opened it.

He slowly raises the lid of the box.

Inside, the dress lies perfectly folded in delicate fabric. Alongside it is a letter, its envelope decorated with an elegant wax seal. As he tears it open, a wave of fragrance envelops him, the sweet, unmistakable scent of fresh roses wafting through the air and stirring memories within him of when he held you close. He opens the letter, revealing your beautiful handwriting, each stroke flowing across the page.

“Dearest Duke Howlett,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I write to you with a heavy heart regarding the exquisite silk dress you so graciously gifted me.

As you may remember from last night’s event, a man accidentally spilled wine on the dress. Despite my best efforts to remedy the situation, the stain has proven stubborn.

Because of this, I think it’s best to return the dress to you. It deserves to be loved and worn as you intended. I am very sad to part with such a lovely piece, which brought me so much happiness.

Moreover, I find myself at a loss for words, as I cannot comprehend why a man of your esteemed stature would choose to bestow such an exquisite gown upon someone like myself. I am simply a lady, while you are a Duke. If my father were to witness this generous gesture, he might very well assume that you were proposing—a notion that brings a flush to my cheeks.

I deeply appreciate your kindness and generosity, and I hope to have the opportunity to discuss this matter further, perhaps with a dance.

With warmest regards...”

He finally learns your name, and as he reads it repeatedly. He softly whispers it to himself, allowing the syllables to linger in the air. A warm ember ignites in Logan’s chest, a stirring sensation that could be mistaken for something as simple as inflammation. Yet, deep down, he senses it might also be the dawning realization that he may have discovered a potential match—perhaps a true Duchess worthy of his affections.

tag list (open!) btw i cried when yall asked to be tagged ilysm: @dragovegogrimborn @manifester3 @buhitosueco @saltedcoffeescotch @angeiulst @moonpascal @v13nx @cleverfestivalconnoisseur @rexmeshlasblog @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @trickstersteve @tighrenicotine @luv4kook @steviebbboi @eldauvs @cards-and-daggers @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @awsome262338 @lustdotlove @jax-the-oregonian @misscrissfemmefatale @hereforthehitsbaby @lightupsketchersperson @st4rrlighttt @cherrypieyourface @blossoming-hotch @freythecrazyfae @sweetenerobert (shout out to robert for cheering me on while I wrote this with one hand and a dictionary in the other)

[lovebugism]

“I’m not the easiest person to talk to, or be around. It’s… hard for other people to love me. I get that.” with Eddie? Maybe he and reader are sorta rivals or frenemies?

here's an unsolicited part 2 to this fic! hope you like it :D — eddie knows you like him now, so you find it extremely hard to be normal around him accordingly (enemies to lovers, grumpy!reader, more succession references, 2.3k)

You walk into the Hideout behind Steve and Robin, hands trembling and sticky with sweat. 

The humid air of the overcrowded bar and the overwhelming stench of cheap beer do little to quell your swirling stomach. The too-loud music and bustling bodies are hardly more than a harsh reminder of the last time you were here — pouring your heart out to Eddie Munson in the form of anxious word vomit, only to be hopelessly turned away. 

Not quite rejected but hardly embraced, which is somehow more embarrassing. 

“You alright?” Steve asks once you’ve ducked into the dim hallway of the backstage area. 

The music and muddled chatter are mostly stifled now, but the walls continue to pulse with life — riddled with chipping paint and dubious stains that only add to your unease. You try to swallow down your distant ennui, hoping it isn’t as obvious as it feels. (It is). Your loud feelings are too big for your body, and it’s got your face softly screwed together like you’ve tasted something sour.

The concerned glint in Steve’s eyes makes you cower. “Yeah. I’m peachy,” you deadpan with an unconvincing shrug. “Why?”

“‘Cause you look like we’re leading you to slaughter,” Robin scoffs.

“You’re asking me to be nice to Eddie Munson for two hours,” you grouse. “So, excuse me if I’m not the most chipper.”

The brunette girl flashes you a look over her shoulder, ocean eyes smudged with dark liner. “Scared you’ll spontaneously combust?” she jokes with her hand wrapped around the rusted knob of the faux greenroom. It feels more like her chipped maroon nails have grabbed your heart and twisted.

“Terrified,” you monotone just before she swings the door open.

The tiny, windowless room smells like sweat and grocery store cologne. It’s crowded with vanity mirrors, plastic folding chairs, and suitcases — hardly big enough for a heavy metal band. 

The three of you run into Gareth and Jeff on your way in. The two look nothing like themselves as you shuffle past them in the doorway, sharing fleeting glances and awkward greetings as you go. A couple of D&D nerds in leather and eyeliner feels almost uncanny.

It’s the same with Eddie, sort of. Curls drenched with sweat, eyes smudged black, tanktop damp around the neckline — a total rockstar. You’re not sure if it’s the raucous outfit stirring your stomach or the body wearing it.

“Oh, shit— You assholes actually showed!” Eddie beams at the sight of you. “And you dressed for the occasion, too.”

The boy in all black and silver stands before the three of you, still dressed in corporate attire after working late shifts. Steve and Robin look at least mostly normal without the Family Video vests and branded name tags. You, however, look like one of those businesswear catalogs brought to life — glaringly out of place. 

“You sayin’ The Gap isn’t proper Hideout attire, Munson?” Steve quips, holding his arm out for a friendly (only slightly awkward) side embrace.

Eddie slaps the back of the boy’s collared shirt with a ringed hand. “Claire’s is more metal than The Gap,” he teases, then turns to hug Robin. “At least Buckley looks halfway normal.”

“And by normal, you mean hot, right?” she jokes, voice deep and gritty and effortlessly sultry.

He scoffs. “Obviously.”

Eddie has no trouble greeting Steve and Robin but loses most of his cool when he turns to you.

The not-so confession at Benny’s Burgers seemed to change more things between you than the heart-felt one you shared here not too long ago. He feels a bit weird, knowing now that you meant what you said — that you actuallyliked him, and that it wasn’t just some cruel joke. 

He feels like he’s got cool points to win with you now. And it makes him achingly aware of when he inevitably loses them.

“Look at you,” Eddie grins, tossing his chin back to shake wild curls from his face. A few chestnut strands cling stubbornly to his sticky forehead. The milky white tendons of his neck shine with sweat, too. “You look like an actual human person.”

“Wow. Thanks, Eds,” you monotone, unsure of whether or not to take his words as a compliment. You cross your arms over the chest of your fitted turtle neck and joke, “I’d say that same, but… you look like a poodle that just washed up on shore.”

Robin mumbles your name through gritted teeth, flashing you a look and poking you on the shoulder. She scolds you like a parent, as though to say be nice without actually saying the words out loud.

“What?” you shrug.

Eddie only chuckles — a low and honeyed sound he presses to your ear when he brings you suddenly in for a hug. His lean body meets yours, soft and strong and slightly clammy. His skin smells like deep cologne, minty aftershave, and very faintly of boy. You tense when his hands cradle your back.

“Oh,” you mumble in surprise, floundering at the affection as you attempt to hold him back. “Okay.”

“How’s the nine-to-five?” Eddie asks after he parts from you, sounding almost like he cares. “Boring the absolute shit outta you?”

You shrug with an air of nonchalance and hope you don’t look as flustered by his attention as you feel. “Oh, you know… Burying the bodies, counting the cash.”

“Gotta picture of me in your little cubicle?”

“Tons,” you answer. “It’s basically an Eddie Munson shrine.”

His smile widens to show all his teeth. His chocolate eyes glitter with mischief, too, like he knows what he’s doing to you. 

Eddie gives you a break from his suffocating stare and looks to Steve and Robin standing on his other side. You feel like you can finally breathe. “I told Greg at the bar to give my friends free beer tonight— just show him your ID or whatever,” the boy tells them.

“Oh, my god— I could kiss you right now,” Robin mumbles.

Eddie’s plush pink lips curl into a half-smirk when he turns to you again. “So try not to run up your tab tonight, alright, sweetheart?” he quips and pats you on the arm. It’s easier to joke that he hadn’t mentioned you at all when your name was first from his lips. Which is totally a joke you would’ve made.

You flash Steve and Robin a wide-eyed look of annoyance, jaw clenched to contain all the insults you instinctively want to spew. “He got us free beers,” the former cautions with a sympathetic shrug. “Don’t ruin it.”

You roll your eyes and hear them leave behind you — not even trying to pretend like they didn’t swing byfor the beers. Eddie’s stupid grin widens when you stay. “You heard the man. Means you gotta be nice to be all night.”

“Right,” you scoff like it’s funny. Steve The Hair Harrington doesn’t exactly scream figure of authority to you. Robin Buckley, maybe. But definitely not Steve.

“Think you can do it without spontaneously combusting?” he quips.

You hate that he knows you so well. “Not particularly,” you deadpan.

Eddie tilts his wild head to the side and sends you a pretty, tight-lipped smile. “Well, you’re doing a great job already.”

His praise is sarcastic. You know this already, so you’re not sure why it has your stomach doing backflips. “Thanks…” you mumble, inherently shrinking inside yourself as you attempt to make small talk. “How, uh— How was the show?”

“Fine,” the boy hums, shrugging his pale shoulders. “Same set from last time. Same crowd of drunks.”

“Sorry I missed it.”

“Eh. Don’t be. You’ve actually got important shit going on— Don’t worry about me.”

“Your shit’s important, too,” you argue without thinking, perhaps more shocked by your sincerity than the boy ahead of you. You follow quickly and much more harshly, “I guess.”

Eddie smiles wordlessly. You start to squirm in place. He watches you grow suddenly uncomfortable in your own skin as you seem to look everywhere but back at him. The pink expression ebbs into a more concerned one. “You okay?”

You hate the question more the second time. 

“Fine,” you monotone, hardly convincing.

He squints. “Then why aren’t you looking at me?”

“I am looking at you,” you argue just to argue, giving him a measly glance before turning away a moment later.

“No, seriously,” Eddie chuckles, reaching out to touch you. “What’s going on?”

His ringed hand caresses the outside of your elbow. You jerk back on instinct, more aggressive than you mean to be. 

“Nothing!” you huff, looking so far away from him that he can only see your profile. You grumble like a storm cloud, “You just— You make me go all weird. As you know. And fully intend.”

“That’s what this is all about?” Eddie chuckles. “You got a little crush on me?”

He reaches out for you again, this time digging his fingers into the junction of your neck. You swat him away with a harsh hand. You hate the way his touch makes your skin buzz. 

“You’re such a dick,” you groan before spinning on your heel. Your slacks swish around your ankles as you walk the very short distance to the door. Eddie’s footsteps sound much heavier in comparison as he rushes behind you. 

“Hey, hey, hey! C’mon. I’m just kidding,” he assures, still laughing as he slides his body between you and the exit. He meets your glare with a crooked smile. “It’s okay. I got a crush on you back— you know that.”

You hate how easily the words spill from his mouth, how cool he is about all of it compared to the time bomb you’ve become — tick tick ticking away as your anxiety builds. You figure this stupid crush (or whatever he wants to call it) must mean more to you than it does to him. So again, you turn away.

Eddie knocks his worn sneaker against the toe of your pleather boot. “Just because you don’t believe me doesn’t make it any less true, you know?” he tells you, quiet and suddenly serious as he tilts his cheek to his shoulder. “Doesn’t make me like you any less, either.”

His confession makes you feel funny. It makes you giddy and fills you with dread all at once. “It’s just… It’s weird,” is all you can think to say, after several long moments of silence.

“Why?”

“‘Cause I— I’m not— I don’t know,” you groan, bringing your hands to your face to hide behind your palms. “God, I did not intend to talk about this today.”

“Well, too late. We’re talking about it.”

Eddie takes a step away from the door, moving impossibly closer to you. He ducks his chin to meet your sheepish gaze, dark eyes sparkling with visible concern. 

You step back from him on instinct and talk wildly with your hands. “No! Tonight was supposed to be about you— about you’re fucking show— not about me!”

Brows raised and hidden behind his sweat-drenched bangs, he monotones. “Say it.”

A stubborn sigh puffs out your lips. “I just… I know I’m not the easiest person to talk to. Or to be around. I know that,” you confess. “I know it’s hard for people to like me, but… you do, and I really don’t fucking get it, okay? It just feels like you’re playing a big, dumb prank on me.”

Eddie stays silent for a moment, chocolate gaze unwavering as he ponders your words. 

“Wait, so…” the boy trails off, eyes squeezed shut in concentration. “You’re mean to me, but I like you anyway, and because I can see through all the— faux bitchiness or whatever— You have a hard time… being around me?”

Your eyes flit to the ceiling for a moment. You look back at him and nod. “Yeah, that’s… That’s pretty much the gist of it, yeah.”

Eddie beams before he can help it, filling the dingy room with golden sunshine. “Well, you know how we get past that, right?” he wonders and scrunches the bridge of his nose.

You get the feeling he’s teasing you still, but you entertain him anyway. “What?”

“Us being boyfriend-girlfriend—”

“Eddie,” you groan with your head tilted back, only partly pretending to be annoyed. You don’t step back from him when he inches closer to you this time, though. You don’t jerk away from his touch when his hands caress your forearms, either. 

“I know you wanna…” he lilts, pulling you closer with ringed fingers wrapped gently around your wrists. Your shoes scuff the carpet as you stumble into his chest. “It’s why I make you go all funny, right?”

You squint up at him, with hate in your eyes and your heart in your throat. “You’re so annoying,” you deadpan.

“Okay, how about this? We can just go on one date, alright?” Eddie offers, smoothing his guitar-string calloused fingers up your shoulders. “Nothin’ fancy, I promise. Just bottomless breadsticks at Enzo’s at seven. And you, bottom-less at my place at eight.”

Your knotted stomach does a backflip at his words, but you keep glaring at him anyway. “And who says you don’t know how to flirt?” you squint.

Another chuckle spills from his plush, pink lips. His tongue darts out to wet them a second later — mouth desperate to be kissed. “‘Kay. Fine. How about we just makeout in my van after closing? And I try not to be a total idiot and ruin it like last time?”

He’s much more serious now. You can see it in his very expressive button eyes. He’s borderline pleading now, for a second chance he never needed to ask for. 

You cave, far quicker and with a lot less fight than he expected. “Fine,” you shrug with an unenthusiastic huff.

Eddie smiles so big, it’s like you’ve just told him you loved him or something — all his teeth on display — so wide and full of adoration it almost hurts. 

[tadpole-apocalypse]

Since patch 8 will be adding the shadow sorcerer subclass I’m finally going to do my durge run as an old dnd character I made named Faye.

She’s a half elf with the haunted one background, I intended to work on it with my dm, but I had to leave the group early on for mental health reasons so we never fleshed out her backstory. She was my first attempt to play dnd with an evil character but i wasn’t very good at it. She didn’t revel in being evil, she was just too lazy to do the right thing most of the time. She’s like Ennui from Inside Out 2.

Not sure if I’ll go the resist or embrace route, or even what romance she’ll do yet…🤔

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Bruce McKinnon

* * * *

Every effort matters—now more than ever!

March 3, 2025

Robert B. Hubbell

It is a tough time to be an ordinary American who believes in democracy, the rule of law, and the value of good government. From the cheap seats, it appears that all three are under a brutal assault from Trump and Musk designed to weaken America as a global force for good. In a bizarre twist worthy of The Twilight Zone, Trump and Musk’s campaign of destruction seems carefully crafted to benefit the world’s worst dictator and sworn enemy of American democracy, Vladimir Putin, a goal that is warmly embraced by a party that only a decade ago wrapped itself in patriotism and pro-democracy foreign policy.

But America’s political and media classes seem oddly unconcerned and detached from reality. True, Democrats in Congress express concern—but in the same way, they express concern about policy fights over revisions to the tax code. (To be fair, a handful of notable exceptions are out on a limb without the support of their party.) Our Democratic leaders use their minority status in Congress to justify their strange quiescence—an explanation that accepts defeat as the status quo.

The media is a husk of its former self. Firebrands and self-styled crusaders who took Biden to task for every inconsequential verbal slip now report on grotesque lies and unprecedented betrayals by Trump with the ennui of a weatherman predicting increasing darkness in the late afternoon and early evening.

What is wrong with these people?

I spent the better part of Sunday speaking with Americans living in London. They care deeply, passionately about the fate of their homeland’s democracy. They are stunned by the inexplicable ability of Democratic leaders to fashion a unified front to challenge the blitzkrieg of lies emanating from the Oval Office each day.

Is the failure of Democratic leaders a lack of ability? Of desire? Or the triumph of personal ambition regarding 2028 presidential politics over their willingness to serve as a leader of the loyal opposition in our nation’s hour of need?

The silence is deafening. There is a grand disconnect. I had no answer for Americans abroad wondering why the deep pool of talented politicians in the Democratic Party was missing in action at a moment of crisis for their beloved country. But I was able to assure them that the grassroots movement is responding to the call without waiting for politicians to lead the way.

Organic protests are spreading across the US, including protests targeting Tesla dealerships. See News24, 'We are taking action': 9 people arrested at Tesla dealership as anti-Musk protests break out in US. (“Throngs of protesters also descended on the electric vehicle maker's showrooms in Jacksonville, Florida; Tucson, Arizona, and other cities, blocking traffic, chanting and waving signs . . . .”)

Like the Civil Rights Era in the 20th Century and the anti-war movement of the 1960s, we are experiencing a moment in our history where the people drag their leaders kicking and screaming into the future—at which point those reluctant leaders will take credit for victory. So be it. We must stop asking, “Where are our leaders?” and start doing the work until they show up to join us on the front lines.

The pattern behind Trump's embrace of Putin in Friday’s Oval Office meeting

The events of the lastthree days have revealed a disturbing change in the US-Russia relationship.

On Friday, Trump ended 80 years of alliance between Western nations by attacking and dishonoring the leader of the European nation on the frontlines of the effort to halt Russian expansionism. As Trump berated President Zelensky, Trump characterized himself and Vladimir Putin as “co-victims” of the US investigation into Russia’s interference in the 2016 election.

The next day, Elon Musk agreed with a tweet asserting that the US should leave NATO and the UN.

When European leaders met on Sunday in a pre-planned security conference in London, Russia’s former president Dmitry Medvedev condemned the meeting as an “anti-Trump Russophobic coven [of witches].” Medvedev speaks for Putin.

On Sunday, the NYTimes reported that the US Department of Defense has unilaterally ceased cyber operations against Russia, hobbling the US’s ability to understand Russia’s true intentions at a critical juncture in world politics.

Late last week, The Guardian reported that the US no longer views Russian cyberattacks against the US as a priority. See The Guardian, Trump administration retreats in fight against Russian cyber threats. There is no indication that Russia has stopped cyberattacks against the US or that it has “de-prioritized” American cyberattacks on Russia.

In the span of 72-hours, Trump effectively surrendered to Russia in a cyberwar that has been waged continuously for decades. Trump's disgraceful actions in the Oval Office on Friday must be viewed in the broader context of Trump's embrace of Russia.

The media is failing to tell that broader story by trivializing a foreign relations debacle into a “Will he, or won’t he?” story about Trump's ludicrous demand for Zelensky to “apologize.” See BBC report, Laura Kuenssberg, asking Zelensky if he would “express[] some regret to President Trump after your heated confrontation at the White House on Friday.”

At least the BBC reporter didn’t ask Zelensky if he would resign, which has become the new talking point for MAGA politicians in the US: Following Trump's Lead, His Allies Lash Out At Zelenskyy And Suggest He May Need To Resign | HuffPost Latest News

DOGE hackers shut down key IT unit designed to coordinate US government public-facing computer networks

DOGE has summarily dismantled a key information technology group at the center of the federal government’s public-facing computer systems. See Josh Marshall in Talking Points Memo, In-House Gov Tech Unit for State of the Art Web Portals Disbanded by Doge.

The unit that was disbanded was known as “18F.” Its job was to make public-facing websites of the federal government more user-friendly and functional—things like making it easier to complete and file your tax returns for free on the IRS website.

The now-former employees of 18F published a letter on Sunday that explained what they did and why their dissolution will hurt the American people. See 18F: We are dedicated to the American public and we're not done yet. The letter reads, in part, as follows:

[The terminations were] a surprise to all 18F staff and our agency partners. Just yesterday we were working on important projects, including improving access to weather data with NOAA, making it easier and faster to get a passport with the Department of State, supporting free tax filing with the IRS, and other critical projects with organizations at the federal and state levels.

All 18F's support on that work has now abruptly come to a halt. Since the entire staff was also placed on administrative leave, we have been locked out of our computers, and have no chance to assist in an orderly transition in our work. . . .

Before today’s RIF, DOGE members and GSA political appointees demanded and took access to IT systems that hold sensitive information. They ignored security precautions. Some who pushed back on this questionable behavior resigned rather than grant access.

The chaos-termination of the 18F computer group is being repeated across the federal government. Doge has apparently targeted 50% of the Social Security Administration staff—a move that will hurt service levels for seniors who depend on SSA payments to meet basic living expenses.

These cuts are painful and will cause chaos. That chaos and pain will spur a backlash against Republicans that should allow Democrats to take back the House (and possibly the Senate) in 2026 if only the Democratic Party can get its act together—PRONTO! We need a daily news conference with effective messaging by dynamic, charismatic leaders who are not Chuck Schumer!

Litigation against Trump / Musk / Doge

In a significant ruling, US District Judge William Alsup ruled that the federal Office of Personnel Management does not have the authority to fire federal employees. The ruling reaches 16,000 probationary employees dismissed by a directive from the Office of Personnel Management. See Democracy Docket, Judge Says Trump Administration Ordering Mass Firings Was Unlawful.

Judge Alsup wrote, in part,

The Office of Personnel Management does not have any authority whatsoever under any statute in the history of the universe to hire and fire employees at another agency.

Alsup acknowledged that agencies—not the OPM—can fire probationary employees but that those agencies cannot be compelled to do so by OPM. Alsup also acknowledged that he cannot compel the rehiring of employees. The ruling may, however, provide a basis for the wrongfully terminated employees to seek damages from the US government based on their unlawful terminations.

In a separate matter, US. District Judge Amy Berman Jackson has again ruled that Trump unlawfully fired the head of the US office charged with oversight of whistleblower claims. See Bloomberg, Trump’s Firing of Whistleblower Agency Head Ruled Unlawful. Judge Jackson ruled that Trump failed to make a “for cause” finding to justify the firing of the special counsel.

Judge Jackson noted that circumventing the “for cause” requirement would amount to “a constitutional license to bully officials in the executive branch into doing his will.”

Concluding Thoughts

Apologies that this newsletter is more like a rant and less like my usual call to action. But I am reflecting the frustration and anger that I am hearing from readers (both in person and in the Comment section). There seems to be a disconnect that is exacerbating an already mind-boggling situation.

The good news is that everyone seems to “get it”—other than politicians and the media. As I noted, they will be dragged along with the tide of history—a tide whose course we will determine by our actions.

It is up to us to save democracy—a situation that does not distinguish this moment from the thousands of perilous moments that have brought us to this point.

I acknowledge that we are living through an extraordinarily difficult moment. Our most important task is to not quit. If all we do is endure and keep hope alive, that will be enough. That is what Winston Churchill did during the darkest hours of WWII. If we can do the same, we will see victory in 2026 and 2028.

But we can do more—much more. The tide is turning. Republicans are retreating from their constituents. Spontaneous protests are spreading across America. It is happening. Be part of the movement in whatever way you can. No effort is wasted. No gesture is meaningless. No voice is unheard. Everything matters—now more than ever.

[Robert B. Hubbell Newsletter]

[radiowendigo]

Anxiety was dealing with multiple panic episodes lately. It wasn’t too uncommon for her. But, her employees noticed that she would grip onto her arms to the point it would take a huge amount of strength to help release herself. Anxiety had also been experiencing these same type of panic episodes during the night, which awakened some or all of the emotions.

Despite having been unavailable for many of them, Ennui has seen them all. She wasn't always sure what to say or do in these kinds of situations. She felt guilty because Anxiety had always been so encouraging, supportive, and nice to her. She wished she could do more for her beloved. What kind of friend was she?. Deep down, Ennui as well feared that the other emotions would sense her secret feelings for Anxiety and get leaked in some way. All she could do in those moments was sympathize with Anxiety and wish her negative thoughts would subside.

Ennui woke up first in the middle of the night, which was the first time she did during Anxiety’s recent episodes. She slowly removed her white face mask and heard muffled whimpers distant to where the console was. Ennui furrowed her eyebrows and quietly got out of bed, moving past the others so as not to wake them, and trailing the noises as it made her way to the console. Anxiety was kneeling down in front of the console, hyperventilating, hair messy, and once again, hugging herself, gripping onto her arms in a deadly grip. Ennui rushed to Anxiety and kneeled down to her level in front of her, and placed her hands on hers.

“Anxiety, breathe, mon ami. Slowly.” Ennui said gently but looked concerned.

“I-I-I’m trying!” Anxiety breathed in a frantic tone, triggering tears which slowly began spilling down her cheeks. Ennui shushed her and rubbed her hands in an upside down motion in attempt to soothe her.

“Breathe with me.”

Anxiety nodded rapidly and Ennui inhaled and exhaled deeply, her low voice giving Anxiety a pleasant tingling sensation. Her voice had always been one of her favourite things about her. It was just calming and reassuring to her. Anxiety tried to repeat her but struggled.

“Again.” Ennui said in an engorging tone. They did this excerise three more times and finally, Anxiety was breathing normally, but was still gripping her arms. Ennui did not let go her hands.

“Anxiety, please let go of your arms, mon douce, you’re hurting your pretty arms.”

More tears fell from Anxiety’s eyes and nodded slowly releasing them, while Ennui carefully tugged along with her. Finally, Anxiety released her arms making Ennui sigh out of relief. At this point she let go of Anxiety’s hands. Anxiety looked up at Ennui in her distressed state, shaking less.

“I-I’m sorry Ennui, I know I’ve been doing this a lot lately, I don’t know why, I feel so bad and I know I’m disturbing your sleep, and I know you need your rest for the morning, and that I should just find a way to handle it myself, and—-“

“Shhh, hush, mon cher. You don’t need to apologize. Viens ici dans mes bras.”

Ennui pulled Anxiety into her arms, resting Anxiety’s cheek on her chest, Anxiety enjoyed the soft material of her black shirt. Ennui wrapped her long arms around Anxiety and held her in a strong but comforting embrace. Anxiety cried softly now from the exhaustion of the situation. Ennui stroked through Anxiety’s messy strands with one hand in an attempt to comfort her more. After a while, Anxiety’s cries subsided and Ennui placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, which Anxiety noticed blushing furiously. But didn’t say anything not wanting to ruin the moment.

“Are you alright now, Anxiety?” Ennui asked softly.

Anxiety exhaled and looked up at the indigo emotion. Her eyes were fatigued, bangs had creeped out underneath them, and her cheeks were tear-stained but smiled.

“Yeah, I am. Thank you..” Anxiety replied weakly, looking down flustered.

Ennui smiled warmly and placed her hand on Anxiety’s right cheek and gently guided it back to her face.

“Of course. That’s what we’re here for, right? You are never a bother to us. It’s a part of who you are. But it’s how you deal with it what matters, and you are trying. I see it.”

The orange emotion just stared at her in awe, and her smile grew wider.

“Thank you, Ennui. You really are the best.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Anxiety looked at Ennui’s hand that was resting on her cheek and put her right hand on top of hers, and kissed her palm. Revealing a shocked glance and gasp from Ennui. Her cheeks now forming a dark blush herself.

“But I will, ma chere.”

Ennui swiftly pulled her in her arms again embracing her. Anxiety wrapped her arms around Ennui as well and ran her fingers through her long hair. A couple minutes passed and Ennui looked down at Anxiety.

“Anxiety? Are you ready to try and go back to sleep?”

Anxiety yawned.

“Yeahh. I’m exhausted.”

“We should get some sleep. We have to get up in a couple hours.”

“Can I please sleep with you tonight? I don’t want this to end yet and I don’t want to be alone.” Anxiety asked a little desperate in the end.

“Oui, oui. Of course. Come, allons-y.” Ennui said in a caring tone, grabbing Anxiety’s hand. She led her to her bed, the others were still knocked out. Ennui climbed and scooted to her right side of her bed and laid down on her left side. Anxiety climbed afterwords and laid down next to Ennui, trying to give her space. This only made Ennui pull her closer, making Anxiety release a soft yelp and rested her head on her chest again. Ennui’s arms wrapped around Anxiety and used one to yank the cover over them.

Anxiety yawned, her eyes heavy. Ennui smiled softly and kissed her forehead and the crown of her head gently.

“Sleep now, chere. Everything will be okay. I will be here if you need me.”

Anxiety nodded and shut her eyes, soon breathing softly but not with fear, indicating she fell asleep. Ennui placed a final kiss on her forehead and rested her chin on Anxiety’s head.

“Bonne nuit, mon amour.” Ennui whispered lovingly.

Ennui closed her eyes and the two emotions slept in each others embrace until Riley woke up. No one understood why Anxiety and Ennui were sleeping on the same bed but decided not to bring it up. Joy thought it was very sweet and couldn’t stop talking about it for a bit during that morning.

(Been having inside out/inside out 2 brain rot for the past week. I can’t stop looking, watching reading, content about it. It’s genuinely an amazing franchise. Also anxiety and ennui have been on my mind lately, ennui’s my fav lmao. I see the chemistry between these two. I’m a little embarrassed (No pun intended) to share this and thought it was a bit out of character on ennui’s part but reading over it so much I didn’t think so much. ANYWAYS enjoy to my anxiety and ennui lovers!! ^ ^)

They’re the first two women I’ve ever written while writing LMAO

And I don’t think I need to say but if there’s gonna be any hate, leave ‼️

[xoxomarmilez]

SPACE BABY VHS!

No. 1: Missed Connections ☎️

“From the makers of such classics as ‘Embrace Monotony’ comes this special choreographed study of ENNUI. Sit back, relax, and recognize your very finite place in this dumpster fire of a universe. Don’t forget to rewind - we’re watching!”

👽🫶✨

here’s the making of video!

[warning for flashing images]

inspired by disney's sing along songs, I wanted this cover to feel like the music (and phone cords) flowed through it. choices were made with the typefaces along the way, but we got there eventually 😂

[ravens-two]

PICK A CARD reading

How do other people see you?

Pile 1 -> Pile 2

Pile 3 -> Pile 4

Decks used: Dark Wood Tarot & Green Witch Oracle

TIPS | BOOK A READING WITH ME | PATREON | LINKTREE | SUGGEST A PAC TOPIC

Pile 1

Strength & Banana

Main Star sign energy: Leo & Cancer

Hi, Pile 1, Banana is the card of duality and so I think that it may be that people see you in very different ways, like you're not very consensual to the general public. The people you meet can't really decipher you, some perceive you to be incredibly nice, while others find you off-putting. However, with this card and Strength I also feel like people turn to you a lot for advice. People find you to be very wise, and most of all, impartial. They trust that you will see things from every perspective and offer the best advice you can. This also means that some people see you as a devil's advocate, because you insist on giving voice to different points of view.

In general, I think that people perceive you as being very outspoken, you don't shy away from conflict, but you don't go looking for it either. It's just that it naturally finds a way to you and you can't help but stand up for yourself and others. I also feel like other people find you to be a very calming presence, I think that it's mix of it just being your vibe, but also that they know that they can count on you to help solve any problem that might come up.

A bit random, but I think that you are known to make dirty jokes and also your sense of humor is very underrated, kind of deadpan and sometimes others can't tell if you're being serious or not.

Other people see you as being very confident in yourself, even if you don't feel like that. There's a sort of confidence that shines through you. Also, you are known as being very loyal to your friends.

Pile 2

6 of Cups & Lemon

Main Star sign energy: Gemini, Scorpio & Cancer

Pile 2 the first thing I'm getting with your group is that you have big Cancer energy. Being with you feels like coming home. I think that the people closest to you feel almost "mothered" by you, I mean this in the best way possible, they know that they can count on you to make them a nice cup of tea, pull out a blanket and hear out their problems. You have a very safe presence.

Some not so nice energy that is also coming through is that some people think that you're stuck in the past. This sentence is coming through very clearly like this to me, but I think that it will apply differently to each of you. It might be a bit literal, like you refuse to embrace new technologies for example or it could be more like you are frequently reminiscing about the good old days. I think that sometimes you are seen as being a bit sad, like filled with ennui if that makes sense. Despite that, I think that you are someone who remembers. You always know your friends birthdays and you remember the little details about their lives, and they appreciate this so so much.

With the lemon card I think that you are very talkative, but only when you feel comfortable. And the interesting thing is, when you get to the stage where you're really really comfortable you start to hold back less and less and you end up being a bit mean with your words. You're not trying to be mean, but they might sting a bit because you're brutally honest. Also, with lemon being the card of cleansing I think that your friends perceive you as being very good at cleaning. I mean this both in a literal sense (lol) and metaphorically. You're good at closing old chapters and cleaning out the old to bring in the new (with a twist too, because you always make space for the memories). You give me this vibe of it doesn't matter if it was good or bad, it matters that it happened.

Pile 3

Empress & Orange

Main Star sign energy: Virgo & Taurus

Pile 3 people see you as being full of life and energy. You are the life to her party, even if there isn't a party, you know how to cheer and pump up the people around you. I also think that people find you very charming and they love to hear you talk. In fact, I think that others love being around you and being around your energy, because it's just so big. Do you know that poem about the orange? In this metaphor you are the orange.

There's also this really interesting vibe that you are very sensual, it could be like sensual as in sexy, but like sensual as in using your senses. You love eating, you love listening to music, you love pretty things. I think that your friends and acquaintances even always ask you about restaurant recommendations and stuff like that. Also, other people love your style and your aesthetic. In fact, they really admire how cohesive you look.

Others also see you as someone who is incredibly creative and that is always filled with ideas. Honestly I think that most of you are either studying arts/design/etc or you work in those areas. You are known for your work. There's also this thing that if one of your friends has a problem they will come to you if they need an out of pocket solution. Like, you always have one. Your friends love your sense of humor, it's always so random and unpredictable. And I honestly think that you might be very popular on social media.

Pile 4

7 of Swords & Pea

Main Star signs energy: Pisces & Aquarius

Hey pile 4, you are the embodiment of chaotic energy. I don't think that anyone can pin you down, and when someone thinks that they have you figured out you immediately prove them wrong. This is big Aquarius energy honestly, not with the chaos, but with the fact that you see things in such a different manner that no one can predict what you are going to do or say next. I also think that you're the type of person to lie for fun (nothing serious of course, but just making up a whole different life to some stranger you'll never see again).

You are filled with ideas and people find you to be a good communicator. In particular I think that you're good with speaking and writing. There's also this vibe that your friends never know when to expect an answer to their texts, it could be immediately or three weeks later.

Your mind is very very busy, always buzzing with new ideas and scenarios and I think that sort of comes across to other people who think you are a bit scatterbrained. Also, people think that you are very smart. I am also getting this vibe that you have a sharp tongue, especially when it comes to social commentary. Sometimes you'll make a sarcastic comment about something around you, but not everyone will get it and those people find you a bit weird. You may get lost while telling a story, going on multiple tangents to explain your train of thought. And I also think that you get distracted easily. Some people find that a bit annoying, but your friends find it endearing.

There's this type of trickster energy here with the 7 of Swords so it might be that you are known for pulling pranks on your friends. Your presence is very fun, but sometimes a bit unsettling because again, no one knows what you're going to do next.

[xinfinityl0ve17]

Klaha in SHOXX #121 (March 2003)

(credits to the one who has this photo)

Translation:

There were quite a few voices saying that Klaha’s live performance on the “MAR” day of the “Luawataru no Anchor” tour felt deeply connected to life itself. Regardless of whether the songs were previously released or not, the fact that he could convey each emotion through his raw, unfiltered voice, before the songs had even fully sunk into the audience’s bodies, seemed to have a deeply moving and positive impact.

The unreleased song “Romanciaisn ow leaves~”, which served as the gateway into the latter half of the main show, carried with it a luxurious charm wrapped in a soft, embracing fragrance—delivering an early Christmas mood. During “Chocolat”, a fleeting, delicate piece, Klaha sat on a raised platform at the back of the stage, showing an ennui-laced side of himself. There was even a glimpse of unexpected cuteness, and I couldn’t help but feel like I caught a rare glimpse into a hidden side of him. Or was it just me…?

Then came “Sayonara”, gently closing in on the show’s final act. As if to further paint the world of “Sayonara” in even more beautiful colors, the following “penguin” saw Klaha begin to inject dynamic movement into its romantic and lyrical atmosphere.

The final song of the main set was the aggressive, unreleased track “Prism of image”. With this song, Klaha radiated a kaleidoscope of emotional light, offering both intense passion and deep intoxication and the main show came to a dramatic close.

During the encore, he performed the unreleased, baroque-techno style track “Tamashii ga Irodzuku Shunkan” ("The Moment the Soul Gains Color"). For this one, he took up a guitar and sang while strumming, showing yet another new side of himself. Then, the live performance at Shibuya ON AIR WEST, where his journey first began came to a splendid conclusion with the fitting farewell number “Green Tsutaetai Omoi” ("The Feelings I Want to Convey").

Of course, the opening and ending songs that framed the concert were also works Klaha had crafted especially for this day. Visually the production was intentionally restrained, and performance wise he kept the setup simple with just keyboard and guitar backing him. It was a stage entirely focused on expressing Klaha’s voice and message conveying his emotions as they are now and where he’s heading from here.

And so, this day’s opening act will lead into the upcoming February 15th performance at Akasaka Blitz: “Nostailab Kaihō Prism”. Be sure not to miss how this journey continues.

[tinyinkblots]

Becoming

inspired by "insouciant angels" from Sylvia Plalth's Ennui and born from my obsession of unsub reid

In his eyes, they were insouciant angels of god. Right and wrong mattered not—just cause and claim. They answered cries with minds both sharp and flawed, Then measured sin and pinned it to a name. They took their trophies, lives beneath their gaze, And walked through blood to earn the crowd's delight. But he, who'd stared too long into the maze, Now embraced the dark, his long-awaited rite. A devil nests upon his shoulder bone— It whispers, “You could’ve done it better.” He nods: “One lie, and he’d have knelt alone— No loss, no chase. Just order, bound in fetter. I’d coax the blade into his trembling hand— And teach him violence only I command.”

[cloudroots]

Name: Entropy Abyss

aka Pappy

Pronouns: She/her

Parents: Princess Celestia and Discord’s chaos magic

Siblings: Furor Ennui and Cozen Dilettante

Bio:

Pappy has complicated feelings about her inception and existence being an affront to the laws of nature. 

Though it wasn’t always this way. When she was a little kid, Pappy used to idolize pony culture and Princess Celestia. This was when she was spending most of her time with Discord. Pappy would look forward to each visit she had with Celestia.

Things turned for the worst, when Pappy started going to school with the ponies she thought so highly of. She was treated differently for how different she looked from the other foals. She started to feel isolated from her peers, and this crushed her.

Pappy then went through a rebellious phase where she embraced her chaotic side, and started causing problems on purpose. If ponies are going to treat her badly anyway, might as well give them a reason to. 

In the current day, Pappy is out of that phase with the help of her best friend, Andante. Though she still has this underlying feeling that she doesn’t exactly fit in anywhere. Most ponies don’t understand her, and there’s more hybrids in Equestria than ever but she still feels like an outsider with them. She’s spent the majority of her life working through these feelings. She’s glad that she has her friends to support her through it.

Pappy would like to be closer with her family, but she has a lot of built up resentment for causing the way she is. They’re all a happy and supportive family together, but she didn’t feel that way growing up. 

Cutie Mark: N/A -chaos magic said no

————————

Hooray!! Finally formally introducing y’all to Pappy!! Here she is! My daughter, I love her

She maaay have a lot of mommy issues but let’s not worry about that for now lol

Pappy is actually the first next gen character born outside of the timeline of the show, (which I still have to make a cloudverse version of but ehhhh)

So Pappy’s birth is actually the start of my cloudverse timeline, so hooray!! The timeline that’s relative to the other next gen characters

[toon-tales]

Is Anxiety the villain in Inside out 2?

First, let's get something straight:

These. Are. Emotions. Not. Persons.

Here's the thing, Fear isn't about being scared, nor Disgust is about being disgusted, nor Sadness is about being sad, and etc...

Sadness is about sympathy, understanding and listening and offering comfort

Embarrassment is about being careful not to draw attention, feeling ashamed, exposed, even regretful

Anger is about needing justice, feeling mad when someone does something that bothers you

Fear is about protecting, not just being scared

Disgust is about avoiding toxicity, physically and socially

Ennui is about irritation, pointlessness, feeling empty

Envy is about not feeling complete, feeling like everyone is better than you and you're lacking something

Now, to Anxiety.

I don't think you people know what anxiety is. Anxiety is a complex and misunderstood condition. It's more than just feeling stressed or worried; anxiety can be an overwhelming sense of dread that something bad is going to happen, even if there's no clear reason for that feeling. It's a state of being that can affect one's entire perception of the world, making everyday tasks seem daunting. Playing hockey, in Riley's case, is proof of that. That's her favorite sport we're talking about and all of a sudden it's a competition, an exhausting one

Anxiety often also manifests as a deep-seated need to maintain control over one's environment or circumstances. It's a relentless whisper in the head, suggesting that if things are not managed just so, something terrible may occur

And what did Anxiety do? Just that - took control

However, anxiety isn't that bad when it's controlled. It can actually be quite beneficial, serving as a catalyst for action and a motivator for change. Controlled anxiety can sharpen focus, enhance creativity, and even drive efficiency. It's like an internal alarm system, a gentle reminder of forgotten stuff

Like what happened in the end

Now, to Joy

Joy is great because it makes us feel happy and full of energy. But, it's not always perfect. Sometimes, if we're too happy, we might not want to try new things or be ready for when bad times come. Also, if we keep trying to be happy all the time, we might end up feeling sad because being happy all the time is hard. Which is what happened to Riley in the first movie

Joy, like a bright light, can sometimes overshadow other parts of our experiences. It's not that it erases parts of ourselves, but rather, it can make us temporarily forget the challenges and complexities that shape who we are. When we're caught up in a moment of joy, it's easy to overlook the lessons we've learned from difficult times. However, these aspects of our identity are not lost; they're simply out of focus. Once the intensity of joy dims, the rest of our experiences can come back into view. But with no joy to ease them, other emotions kick in, especially anxiety

Now, what's the case here? It's simple, really

The case is that Riley couldn't control her anxiety. Why? She wasn't complete, not yet, she didn't know what she wanted. But in the end, she embraced herself, all of herself, then she managed to control her emotions

Thaaaaat's it! Hope you guys liked it! As usual, feel free to add or comment on anything!

[lau219]

How the boys will plan the honeymoon with me? hehe…😌

Cillian: The two of you would agree on a location, but not much planning beyond that. You decide you’re just going to wing it when you get to your destination. Part of the fun will be just improvising and making decisions on the fly, embracing whatever the location has to offer and enjoying the spontaneity.

Emmett: He doesn’t really care where you go, as long as you’re together. You two agree on a location and plan a few specific things you’d like to do, but beyond that, your plan is to just relax and enjoy the opportunity for peace and quiet, and the ability to finally have plenty of sex that’s not interrupted by the kids.

Leonard: The control freak side of him makes him want to plan it all himself so that he can manage everything and make sure it’s not only enjoyable, but safe. He makes sure it’s somewhere you want to go and he knows you’ll enjoy, but he plans most all of it and then you find out the finer details along the way. He plans plenty of special treats and surprises for you, and makes sure you feel spoiled.

Robert: Gives you complete say over planning everything and it doesn’t matter what it costs. He wants you to plan anything you could possibly want and he’s just along for the ride. He just wants you to be happy and of course, money is no object. He insists that you book the best of the best for everything, and his response to anything you ask him while you’re planning is, “Whatever you want, baby.”

Tommy/Modern Tommy: It’s difficult for you to even convince him to take a honeymoon, as he doesn’t want to be away from home and business very long. He doesn’t care where you go, but then after a little bit of thought, he’s muttering a few things like, “make sure it’s somewhere quiet,” “make sure we’ll have plenty of privacy”, “make sure we get a king-sized bed”. He’s decided that if you’re gonna go on a honeymoon, then he better seize the opportunity for some peace, quiet, and relaxation.

Raymond: Also doesn’t even really wanna take a honeymoon at first. He’s not someone who can be convinced to relax very long without a lot of talking him into it first. But after you get him relaxed and decompressed at home, you present the idea while he’s reclined against you in bed, his back to your front while you rub his shoulders. When you tell him the honeymoon can just be rest and relaxation like this, plus lots of sex, then he’s readily on board.

Jonathan: He wants to plan it all, and he keeps everything a secret so that he can surprise you and enjoy all of your reactions. No matter how much you beg him, he refuses to reveal anything ahead of time, and then he loves watching you throughout the whole trip as you react to every little excursion or special thing he’s planned. Of course, he throws in an activity or outing or two that he knows may cause you some discomfort, so then he can evaluate it and comfort you afterwards.

Jackson: Couldn’t care less and has no involvement. Tells you that wherever you arrange for the two of you to go, he expects to be able to relax and for the two of you to have a lot of sex. That’s it.

@breakthestereo @ennui-whimsy-and-me @newbarrel

[impalementation]

Read Uncle Vanya recently, and was struck by the similarity between Sonya's famous monologue at the end of the play and the church scene in "Beneath You." Specifically Spike's repetition of the phrase "Can we rest?"

SPIKE: [He walks to the crucifix at the altar.] She shall look on him with forgiveness, and everybody will forgive and love. He will be loved. [He stands before the crucifix, staring at it.] So everything's okay, right? [He embraces the crucifix, and his body begins to smoke.] Can we rest now? Buffy? Can we rest? - Buffy the Vampire Slayer 7x02 "Beneath You"

Here's Sonya's full monologue, though the most relevant part is at the end:

SONYA: What's to be done, we must go on living! [Pause] We shall go on living, Uncle Vanya. We shall live through a long, long chain of days and endless evenings; we shall patiently bear the trials fate sends us; we'll work for others, now and in our old age, without ever knowing rest, and when our time comes, we shall die submissively; and there, beyond the grave, we shall say that we have suffered, that we have wept, and have known bitterness, and God will have pity on us; and you and I, Uncle, dear Uncle, shall behold a life that is bright, beautiful, and fine. We shall rejoice and look back on our present troubles with tenderness, with a smile--and we shall rest. I have faith, Uncle, I have fervent, passionate faith... [Kneeling before him, lays her head on his hand; in a weary voice] We shall rest! [TELYEGIN softly plays the guitar.] We shall rest! We shall hear the angels, and see the heavens all sparkling like jewels; we shall see all earthly evil, all our sufferings, drowned in a mercy that will fill the whole world, and our life will grow peaceful, gentle, sweet as a caress. I have faith, I have faith... [Wipes away his tears with a handkerchief.] Poor, poor Uncle Vanya, you're crying... [Through tears] You have had no joy in your life, but wait, Uncle Vanya, wait... We shall rest... [Puts her arms around him.] We shall rest! [The WATCHMAN taps; TELYEGIN plays softly; MARIA VASILYEVNA makes notes on the margin of her pamphlet; MARINA knits her stocking.] We shall rest! The Curtain Falls Slowly - Uncle Vanya, Anton Chekhov (trans. Ann Dunnigan)

Uncle Vanya is a story of ennui and disappointment with life. The titular Vanya and his niece Sonya have spent their lives dedicated to supporting Sonya's father Serebryakov, a celebrated academic, at the expense of their own yearnings and ambitions in life. Over the course of the play, both experience disappointment in romantic love. They are also shocked by Serebryakov's intention to sell the estate they have poured their lives and funds into, without regard for the precarious position it will leave them in. Near the climax of the play, Vanya attempts and impotently fails to kill both Serebryakov and himself. Sonya and Vanya end the play where they began, toiling and romantically alone. On the surface, Sonya's monologue is a spiritually optimistic exhortation to endure and hope in the face of unrewarding drudgery. But it also highlights the bleak inability of the characters to change their circumstances on their own.

"When done well it’s not just Vanya who weeps. Through an act of will, the thing that has most afflicted them – drudgery – can be embraced. The (religious) reward is loaded with paradox: in death they will find rest, and new life. Whether or not you believe in God, it’s bleak yet the repeated phrases (“We shall rest!”, “I have faith”) have a persuasive force of uplift, tolling like a bell." - Dominic Cavendish, The Telegraph

The connections to Buffy are numerous. Like Buffy, Uncle Vanya depicts the existential dilemma: How to carry on in the face of cosmic indifference? If your lot is drudgery, how do you keep going? Throughout the show, Buffy experiences slaying as an often dreary, inescapable fate, one which she has to imbue with her own meaning instead of expecting recognition or the approval of authorities or institutions. In seasons five and six this metaphorical slog is made more human and literal as Buffy struggles to continue on with the everyday aspects of being an adult. Buffy gets her rest at the end of season five, but heaven only ends up being a false, temporary respite--she has to keep going.

Freshly ensouled, Spike in "Beneath You" is newly aware of the existential struggle. Like Vanya and Sonya, Spike has been romantically disappointed and disillusioned, and can no longer rely on it as a source of meaning. It parallels Buffy's own disillusionments when it comes to both romance and Romance (for more on this if curious, there's my unfinished romanticism series). Furthermore, now that he can make true moral choices, Spike is faced with the prospect of having to keep on making them--day after day after day--and living with the consequences. He now truly understands that, due to his actions, a chance with Buffy is impossible--that his labors, with Buffy in mind, like Vanya and Sonya with Serebryakov, cannot reward him--that his romantic and heroic narratives of himself are pathetic, broken. Now he'll have to find some other reason to keep on making choices, and it will be a thankless, unending task.

But the scene also inverts aspects of Sonya's monologue in interesting ways, making it both more and less optimistic. As a text, Buffy is not underwritten by any kind of religious or spiritual faith. Where Sonya puts God ("God will have pity on us"), Spike puts Buffy ("She shall look on him with forgiveness"), and this invocation of deity is more clearly ironic in Spike's case. He proceeds to drape himself on a cross, a Christian symbol, and the fact that it burns him emphasizes the inability of formal religion to provide the absolution or direction or reprieve he might crave. In general, the religious imagery in the church scene, the basic image of an empty church, supports the idea that this is a scene about the struggle for meaning. What does it mean to crave redemption if there's no God (or Buffy) to grant it to you?

What is left, instead, is the human ability to provide such things. On the one hand, in Buffy, one cannot have faith in even a bleak hope of spiritual reprieve. But on the other hand, there is a hope and belief in people's capacity for agency and change. As always, any given scene should ultimately be tied back to Buffy's story, especially when the scene is a dramatic centerpiece between Buffy and Spike--who, like the other major characters, has paralleled her throughout the show. I think it's very significant that this scene comes so early in the season. It restates, via Spike, Buffy's own struggle for meaning and agency within the Slayer fate, adult existence, and Romantic ideas that bound her. It re-establishes that this is one of the show's most central ideas, something to be re-explored throughout the season and resolved--in some way--by the end. (Which I think it is. There are a lot of connections between this scene and Buffy and Spike's final scene in "Chosen." Spike's sacrifice, done without stated belief in Buffy's love, suggests achievement of some internal locus of meaning. He burns with purpose, instead of on a cross. This parallels Buffy's triumph over the first and sharing the Slayer power. She no longer burns on the cross of self-hatred, or slogging away at an isolated fate.)

Of course, as ever, I don't know for sure whether or not Vanya was a direct influence or reference. I would say it's fairly likely. I wasn't able to find anything direct on the subject. All I was able to turn up was that Joss Whedon (who wrote and directed that scene) had not seen The Seagull--another Chekhov play--until ca 2007, which doesn't exactly help my thesis, lol. But I will say Vanya is probably the more famous play, and Whedon has a documented love of theater, given "Once More, With Feeling" and the Shakespeare readings hosted at his house and such. Also, Vanya on 42nd Street, a classic performance of the play, was released in 1994. The modern, stripped-down rendition of Vanya in that movie has aspects in common with Whedon's version of Much Ado About Nothing. Here's Sonya's monologue from that Vanya. The delivery of "We shall rest" is simple and restrained, closer to Spike's delivery of "Can we rest" than a more ecstatic Sonya performance.

The church scene, also for reference:

[mageknight14]

I made a whole Twitter thread about this a few months back but I figured that I might as well bring it here as well.

Today I want to take some time to make another NEO TWEWY analysis post on the Identity Crisis sidequest revolving around Eiru and how it actually provides extra insight into Nagi and Fret’s characters.

Basically, the main gist of the sidequest is that Nagi and Fret are debating on how to imprint confidence onto Eiru, who’s suffering with his physical insecurities, and this is where we see the differences with Nagi and Fret's philosophies on life.

Fret's response is to tell Eiru to ignore the haters and even more so, ignore confronting the insecurities; life is better when you don't have to concern yourself with anything or try; don't take anything seriously. Nagi, however, believes that insecurities should be understood and harnessed so that they can ultimately be turned into a strength that can be used as a tool for success; accept your weaknesses and come to terms with them so that you can weaponize your strengths better.

On a surface level, these might read to be the same thing. Fret’s advice can be read positively as "don't let others judge you for something you can't control" and Fret certainly thinks so, hence why he thinks that he and Nagi are on the same page even though she disagrees.

However, when you read between the lines and think about it some more, there are notable implications that Fret's advice is more of a dismissive approach to dealing with emotional struggles as opposed to Nagi's own methodology. It’s no coincidence that Fret used to be a fan of the Eiji "the Prince" Oji in his ennui/apathy phase. The Prince in the original TWEWY was beloved for his “don’t give a damn attitude” and how he expressed that both in person and in his blog “F Everything.” Fret claims to have grown out of it but with certain reveals about his character later on, there are some implications that Fret latched onto the Prince and aspired to his attitude due to his own struggles with feeling genuine and wanting to embracing apathy instead.

However, if you recall in the original game, Neku and Joshua came around and helped the Prince sort out his own issues and in the process, helped him to become more genuine and true to himself in the process. With all of this in mind, you can interpret Fret’s response as him seeing the process of the Prince’s reconciliation with his genuine emotions happening in front of him and didn’t want to confront the possibility of that happening to him as well so he "grows out of it." It also acts as a neat parallel to Neku and his own thing with CAT. Whereas Neku latched onto his misinterpretation of CAT’s words in order to cope with his trauma, Fret turned away from the Prince changing so that he wouldn’t have to deal with his own trauma just yet.

To get back to the quest, if player had decided to choose Fret's philosophy, Eiru ends up doing just that, spinning Fret's stance on the situation into self-motivating positivity. However, there's a element of emotional responsibility lacking in Fret's way of processing struggles in that he doesn't seem to have the awareness to recognize the difference between overcoming adversity and just ignoring it (or maybe he does but refuses to confront that truth). In order for someone to truly not care what other people think, they need to do what Nagi suggested first, which is to find acceptance with their insecurities and build a stronger foundation for their character through that acceptance.

If the player chose Fret's approach to solving Eiru's issue, his dialogue afterwards shows how he feels about not having to face issues head on, with Nagi lamenting that her approach was not used despite being glad that Eiru's mood was visibily improved.

I also really like this moment here for how it subtly foreshadows what caused Fret’s attitude and way of thinking to happen in the first place.

Stuff like this is why I always tend to roll my eyes whenever I hear the claim that "Nagi is mean to Fret for no reason" when moments like these show why she acts the way she does towards him: their philosophies on life are complete polar opposites.

In Nagi’s eyes, Fret acting the way he did screamed to her that he seemingly had no regard for how his attitude and actions towards others made other people feel in service of his own self-interest and she fundamentally cannot get along with other people of that nature, as shown with how she dismisses Motoi entirely off the bat when the crew first meets him because she could tell that there was something off about his attitude. However, once it was revealed that Fret’s attitude was due to him trying to unhealthily cope with his trauma and not because he was seemingly unconcerned for the feelings of others, she’s far more understandable towards him and empathizes with his grief.

That’s when Nagi learns to understand that she does not need to dismiss people right away and that they, like Fret, might be going through struggles of their own and trying to cope with it via other means, even if she doesn’t agree with it at first. Hence the friendship they start up at the end of the convo.

The characters in NEO have a lot of internal flaws they need to work through, some that might not be immediate obvious at first compared to the original, but when you look back at it all, the game goes through a lot of painstaking detail to flesh out their struggles and mindset and aspects like these is what makes the game a joy for me to replay whenever I go back to it.

[atamascolily]

Sometimes I wish more Madoka Magica fans were familiar with Thunderbolt Fantasy - Gen Urobuchi's wuxia fantasy puppet epic - because he keeps using certain tropes there that I think will also appear in Walpurgis no Kaiten and it's difficult to explain without context. I'll try to keep the TBF discussion to a minimum here, but there's a remark from an interview with Urobuchi about TBF season 4 on the Febri website from February 2025 (English translation by Hibari) that's stuck with me:

Unintentionally, I came back to destiny…the essence of being human. I think that people are people because they are not able to change the past and cannot defy the future, and I always return to this topic when I am writing science fiction. It’s a kind of an ode to humanity.

You see why this is relevant to WnK, right? Homura's wish is to change the past, and she struggles continually because it goes against the way the world works. But the fact that she tries is what makes her human. The heroes in Urobuchi's works are those who fight the inevitable and believe in choice and free will; his villains are nihilists who believe themselves to be enforcers of destiny.

(I don't really want to revive a bunch of discourse here, but while Madoka Magica can be interpreted through a feminist lens, that doesn't automatically mean that Urobuchi himself is a feminist. Rather, as his remarks here attest, I think Urobuchi is fundamentally humanist - which ends up appearing as feminist in Madoka Magica because of the predominantly female cast pitted against a male-coded avatar of an oppressive system. Unfortunately, his shows with mixed gendered casts do not fare so well for the female characters, but that's a discussion for another time.)

Anyway, without going too far into Thunderbolt Fantasy spoilers, in later seasons, there is a demon named Azibelpher - the name is not subtle - who manipulates time to his own advantage. In classic Urobuchi fashion, this comes with horrendously awful unexpected consequences, as the luxurious life he desired essentially destroys him and he spends most of his time lounging around and drinking in ennui. The price of getting what you want is getting what you want, even (especially) for a demon:

It’s the same as how a game becomes boring once you use cheat codes. Because they cannot defy destiny, people are human, they feel happiness and sadness, but if they gain the ability to change destiny however they like, they lose something as a human being, that’s probably the basic idea.

It's hard not to read this passage and not think of Devil Homura slouching on her throne in the WnK trailer. Having complete control over everything and shaping the world according to her desires is not good for her mentally or emotionally on so many levels. Having intentionally embraced the role of a villain, she is unable to stop, and yet in spite of all her power, she has lost something important in the process. This is on top of the fact that she's attempting to defy fate - she is doubly doomed to fail.

Homura has created a perfect world, but one of the recurring themes in Urobuchi's works is that we need to experience both good and bad things in order to be fully human; for better or worse, it is our struggles are what make us who we are. In Madoka Magica, this view is espoused by Madoka in episode 10 when Homura proposes becoming witches and destroying the world; in Madoka's view, the world is worth saving in spite of the pain and suffering and in that scene I think she represents both the show's core beliefs and those of Urobuchi.

As a writer, Urobuchi really loves this kind of dualism and contrast between characters, which is one reason why I think the series will ultimately end with Madoka and Homura balanced as cosmic forces in a world where both joy and sorrow (and magical girls and witches) coexist. If our humanity comes from fighting fate, true maturity also comes from accepting what we cannot change and loving the world as it is in spite of everything (while still holding true to our values and changing what we can).

But back to Urobuchi again:

Science fiction is, in the end, a genre that often leads to the question of how to define being human. When I try to depict that in my way, I don’t try to show “This is the essence of being human” or “This is great about people,” but rather tend to imagine “What are people lacking that makes them human?” In this setting, I often write characters that attain what they are lacking and thereby lose their humanity as villains. That is intentional, to a degree, but also a kind of compulsion, that makes me notice “I wound up coming here again…” (laughs)

What does losing your humanity mean in a post-Rebellion world and what does it look like? My guess is this is where the second Homura comes in - as a splitting of the self that arises as an unintended but inevitable consequence of Homura's actions. (Conveniently, this kind of splitting already exists in the lore and even has its own name - witch - which seems like it might be relevant!)

Having attained what she wanted, Homura becomes her own enemy, literally and metaphorically. Remember, Homura's world is her labyrinth, which is her soul, and the human psyche manifests in all kinds of weird and unpredictable ways inside them (and that's without even touching whatever is going on with Walpurgisnacht, who is also likely tied to Homura in some fashion).

This kind of splitting also appears in Thunderbolt Fantasy with a different character who excises a portion of their soul in order to take over the world. It goes badly, as you might expect, when the expelled soul piece manifests as a doppelganger and returns to destroy them. There is also an overarching time loop that cannot (nor should not) be changed, as it is necessary for the entire story to hold, along with many smaller loops within loops. Sound familiar?

This is not to say that I think WnK will necessarily follow the same trajectory as Thunderbolt Fantasy in all respects, just to say that you can really see Urobuchi playing with the same themes, because that's what authors do - they write about what fascinates them over and over again. This is what Urobuchi is referring to it when he calls it a compulsion - he can't help himself - and as writer, I know exactly what he means. The parallels between his series exist and while it's possible WnK may go in an entirely different direction than anything I've laid out here, the thematic groundwork for the ideas I've laid out is nonetheless visible and it makes me feral.

One way out of the trap Homura has set for herself is to return to her humanity and become whole again (or to use Urobuchi's framing, to give up the perfection, power, and control she sought to achieve). To make her peace with the past and with herself, to accept what happened, and move forward into the future. She has to heal after hitting rock bottom, because the alternative is death. I know which one I'm rooting for.

Homura alone cannot change fate, cannot defeat Walpurgisnacht. But Madoka can. Who knows what will happen if the two of them work together to remake the universe?