#fragments are all i am capable of but i still really like this

[bookshelfdreams]

(cw: animal cruelty)

Inside the abandoned warehouse, the Cat King is holding court.

Or what he, who wears the title of King like humans wear plastic jewelry, counts as such.

He is splayed on the throne – like his kingdom, built of palettes and rags – and listens to his subjects’ complaints.

It is not terribly interesting. The stories and woes blend together, always the same: squabbles with seagulls, a beloved brother gone under the wheels of a car. Territorial disputes. Nothing the Cat King has the power to solve, or the want to mediate, and they do not expect it from him. They mostly just want someone to complain to.

For his part, the Cat King enjoys the ritual and routine of it.

A young mother steps forward, and tells him of her litter of four, gone without a trace when she came back from hunting. Vanished, with nothing but their milk-sweet smell left behind. Stuffed into a sack and drowned, most like, the Cat King knows.

Hm. The life of a street cat is short and brutal, but still, this is unacceptable. Kittens this young, deaf, blind, helpless, they are off limits, all his cats know it, and the humans ought to know it, too. Clearly someone out there needs a reminder.

He suspects he knows who the offender is – a dock worker, one of those who like to kick at strays looking for food – but finding out which one, specifically, that is bound to be tricky.

Mother Rat will surely know, she knows everything, but she will not help. Lots of bad blood between them. Lots of regular blood, too. The humans are cruel to her tribe too, true, but a kitten that never grows up is one less sharp-toothed maw her children have to fear.

The seagulls will have seen, too, but they do not accept leadership, and are not the ones to go to for any kind of information. Too scatter-brained to ever be useful.

No, the Cat King will have to find someone to blame himself. If he is honest, it does not matter all that much to find out who, exactly, scooped up those kittens. The important thing is that an example is made, not who it is made of.

The mother is not particularly devastated. She knows there will be a new litter soon enough, and kittens are more trouble than they’re worth anyway. Still, it is about the principle of the thing, and the Cat King tells her he will look into it.

The next petitioner is different.

Healthy, for one. Glossy fur, well-fed, no parasites crawling out of his ears, no injuries to be seen. He still comes to court, so he does not have a true home with the humans, but he clearly lets the humans feed and care for him, when he wants. Clever. The best of two worlds, if one can pull it off.

The Cat King knows this one, one of his own, if he is not mistaken. It is hard to keep track of them all, but he usually tries to remember the ones that survive to adulthood.

Goes by Terry, he thinks. (Strays pick up names like ticks, some stick, some don’t.)

As he comes closer, there is something off about him.

The Cat King perks up, ears turned forward, nose trembling. Yes, there it is: the smell of magic, residue that clings to Terry’s fur like an oil stain. Strange magic, too. The Cat King knows what that witch, Esther, smells like and it’s not this. She leaves a trail like smoke and old blood. Organic, visceral, only partly human. This is fainter, delicate, smells of dust and fog and spiderwebs. Abandoned, forgotten.

A ghost, most like.

Interesting.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Little fucker put a binding spell on me”, Terry admits.

Oh, that is embarrassing.

“You let a ghost put a binding spell on you?” the Cat King asks just to see Terry squirm a bit.

“Hm,” Terry grumbles. “He had a sardine!”

That’s understandable then. Still.

“Ghosts around here usually know better than to mess with us,” the Cat King muses. Not to mention, he has never heard of a ghost with this sort of arcane ability in his territory. Binding a cat is not easy.

“He’s new”, Terry says. “Only been in town for a day. He and his buddies were sneaking around that witch’s house. He wanted information on her, that’s why he caught me.”

Now that is something, isn’t it?

Of course the Cat King knows what is going on in that house. There is a new little human, trapped in there. Not that he would do anything about it.

He and the witch stay out of each other’s way, for one. She leaves his subjects alone, he does not poke his nose into her business, but their truce is fragile. He calls himself King, but between them, he is not the more powerful one. She could crush him, if she wanted to, and they both know it.

One day he will have to confront her. It is not going to end pretty.

Not today, though.

“What did you tell him?” he asks Terry.

“Well, what was I supposed to tell him?” Terry’s tail swishes. He is tense, the memory of the binding spell still fresh, and like all cats he hates being interrogated. “Told him what that bitch is doing to the little humans, or he wouldn’t have let me go.”

Hm. So there is an unknown ghost, new in town, knows enough about magic to put spells on his cats, thinking he can challenge Esther Finch. Of course the Cat King himself is too smart to pick a fight with her, but.

Well.

He wouldn’t mind if someone else did, would he?

“Now.” The Cat King jumps down, slowly walks up to Terry. The arcane residue is even stronger up close. Must have been a mean little fucker of a spell. “We can’t have ghosts walking around, putting spells on us. Bring them here.”

Terry blinks and off he goes. He must truly be unnerved, obedience usually is no cat's strength.

As soon as he is out of sight, the Cat King hears him yowl.

"Get out of here, you mangy little rat!" someone yells. A human male. Hmm. How very stupid of him to antagonize his court, the Cat King thinks. Just when he has a scapegoat to find, and time to kill.

Heads turn toward him. The Cat King sees the same question asked a dozen times over in twitching ears and quivering tails.

This one?

The Cat King licks his nose. Yes. This one.

---

The Cat King watches quietly as the example is made. He does not participate; he has more interesting things to think about.

Here’s the plan: get the newcomers to him, find out what exactly their purpose is, whether they indeed are looking to pick a fight with Esther Finch, and if there’s a way the Cat King can subtly assist without letting them know he has an interest in her demise or too obviously involving himself. Easy.

Or so he thinks.

---

Eventually, Terry brings the newcomers to him.

One is a human girl, with an aura of something more about her. Cat-eyed. A medium, he thinks, is what the humans say, and an inexperienced one. Her gaze drills into the Cat King, and he is sure she has no idea what she is seeing. Just at the brink of discovering the full extend of her power. For human mediums, this usually means nothing more than seeing ghosts and maybe reading the thoughts of weak-willed fuckwits, but the Cat King is willing to bet that this girl has plenty more to her. She is worth keeping an eye on, if any can be spared.

Then there is the angry one. All tense, shoulders tight, eyes turned forward. Drawn up to his full height, light on his feet: someone who expects a fight. He has about him the air of a tom who full well knows he’s in someone else’s territory and is just waiting to be jumped. Or no, that is not entirely right. Of someone who has been hurt early and often enough to never expect anything else, and is now determined to always get the first hit in.

His stare is a challenge and the Cat King is sure he knows it.

And then. There is him.

The Cat King recognizes him immediately, and not just from the unmistakable arcane aura clouding him. Ghost magic, that smells of dust and fog, empty rooms, forgotten things. The illusion of something that is not quite there, a memory just out of reach.

He is clearly a skilled sorcerer, strong enough to be remarkable, especially for a ghost. And he is old. Not as old as the Cat King, of course, but probably a century and then some. Far older than most human ghosts ever get to be. Usually they hang on for a few years, maybe a decade or two, if they are particularly restless.

As all three of them walk closer, the Cat King realizes that the there is something else strange about the two ghosts. They seem so – present. The Cat King has known his share of ghosts, and most of them are very obviously echoes, impressions left behind, lost, confused.

These two have purpose. They know exactly who and where and why they are. They are here by choice.

Yes, the Cat King is sure this lot will prove useful.

He sits up, rolls his shoulders and, in a cloud of purple flames, changes into human form.

For the fraction of a second the sorcerer’s eyes catch on the hem of his skirt, before he snatches them up and keeps them firmly locked on the Cat King’s face.

Oho. Oho.

Yes, there had been a plan, but the Cat King is nothing if not a creature of impulse, and things have just turned in a much more fun direction.

So scratch everything. New plan.

“Hi”, the Cat King says, with the smile of a predator who just discovered something small and squeaky.

---

The ghost, as it turns out, is not something small and squeaky.

[genshin-scenarios]

A Leyline Incident (Wanderer x Reader)

Summary: A leyline mishap has transported you and Wanderer into his memories – aka back to when he was still Kabukimono.

This'll wear off in a few hours, but you don’t know how long you can last when Wanderer’s acting like this.

Established relationship/you’re already together. He’s just pushing your buttons as usual.

Content warnings: Rated teens and up!

Wordcount: 1100+

“Move to the side. Am I just supposed to sit on one inch of this chair?”

“What are you talking about?! I’m about to fall off here!” Your indignant whisper quickly turns into a strangled sound when Wanderer slots himself to your side, pushing his body against you.

There are countless more places he could sit, but of course he chooses the most inconvenient one to stay close to your side. After you’d been found together at the edge of the village, Wanderer had quickly introduced you as a traveler he befriended from his foraging trips.

Considering how even his clothes were transformed into the white and purple garb he used to wear, you were the only oddity in the situation. With a defeated sigh, you played along, letting Wanderer adopt the demeanor of his past self as he loops your elbows together, leading you into Tatarasuna.

But even if he was friendly as Kabukimono, wouldn’t the villagers still find it weird if he’s so attached to you?! Granted, the swordsmiths and workers milling about are fragments from his memories, but they’re still fully capable of interacting like normal.

Katsuragi turns to the both of you, handing Wanderer a bowl of soup. “Just let us know if your friend needs anything else. It wouldn’t do for us to count them out of dinner, after all.”

“Thanks, Katsuragi!” Wanderer switches his tone effortlessly, wearing a smile so innocent that your stomach turns in disbelief. “They’re a little tired, so I’ll show them to the guestroom later.”

The idea of being stuck in a room when Wanderer’s dressed and acting like this is enough to make you stand up, trying to escape despite how dark the sky is. “Actually, I feel fine. So maybe I can help with serving—”

“—But didn’t you say you’ve been traveling all day?” Wanderer interrupts. His brow furrows in worry, raising a spoonful of soup to you. “You should eat and rest. I’m sure the villagers won’t mind!”

“Any friend of Kabukimono’s is a friend of ours.” Katsuragi confirms. “It’s only a night’s stay, after all. If you’d still like to help out, we can discuss it in the morning.”

Worst of all is the expectant look on both of their faces as you sit, frozen, staring at Wanderer’s hand still offering to feed you.

There’s amusement glimmering in his eyes even as he retains that sweet smile. “The grannies are really good at cooking, so you should try some!”

You grit your teeth, mustering all the patience and peace in the world as you lean forward and take a bite. It’s surprisingly good, though that might have to do with Wanderer’s memory of the soup rather than anything you’re actually consuming.

After that, you manage to save your dignity a little by taking the bowl from him and finishing the rest yourself, just so you could excuse yourself and retreat away from the villagers. Wanderer brings you to one of said guestrooms, where you immediately round to berate him.

“Just because this is one of your memories doesn’t mean you can go ahead and—”

“Mess around?” He takes the words right out of your mouth, lips quirked with mirth. Here stands the Wanderer you know. But what you don’t expect is for him to drive the point forward, taking a slow step towards you with every sentence. “But don’t you find it endearing to see me acting like that? Wide-eyed, well-meaning… Willing to do anything for you with a smile?”

“The leyline must’ve dropped you on the head before we woke up here.” You panic, realizing that your back has just hit the wall. He’s too close, and the glint in his eyes spell nothing good for your wellbeing. “Heck, you could even be lying about your old personality, and I wouldn’t have a clue.”

“Hm. Regardless, I’ve gotten you into quite a spot.” Wanderer leans over you, and you think he’s about to kiss you for a second before he simply lingers there, giving you a smirk.

“You know what? We’re done.” You slide down to sit on the ground, trying to avoid his gaze because there’s no way you started leaning in and he had the audacity to tease you. Your deadpan is a giveaway that you’re simply flustered, covering your face with your eyes shut and words muffled. “I don’t know you anymore. Goodbye.”

“Well that’s rather hurtful.” He crouches so you’re at the same height, propping his chin atop his palm. “I was going to let you choose how I’d kiss you.”

You allow yourself to peek at him, curiosity winning over. “…In what way?”

“As in,” Wanderer leans closer, moving his hand to tug at the end of your shirt. “Would you like Kabukimono, lovesick as he asks if he can kiss you?”

He mimics the pose, face tilted just enough so that he’s the one peering up at you. An image of something desperate and hopeful flashes through your mind — wide eyes and pleading for you to melt and say yes.

“Or, maybe you want me to promise I’d never leave your side.” In a cheerful, exhilarating realization that he loved you. Exclaiming it with a laugh bubbling on his lips, knowing this emotion for the first time.

His hands shift to cup your face on both sides. As Wanderer shuts his eyes, they flutter open again with a different weight to his gaze; half-lidded, he’s close enough that your lips are brushing, but doesn’t quite press them into a kiss.

“Fast forward things a little, and it’d be like this.” He traces the shape of your cheekbone. “Maybe I wouldn’t ever want to let you go, and ask for your heart to be mine.”

He’d steal it from your chest, if he really had to. You’d believe it, in the current state he’s emulating – remembering the stories he told you about his past after disaster struck Tatarasuna. When he was lost to a color of the world that struck him cruelly, believing he’d been betrayed once again.

Your hands reach up to take Wanderer’s wrists gently, pulling him out of his stupor with your touch. As his eyes clear, he leans into the kiss you tilt your lips up for, letting you take the lead as he melts into you. It’s soft and sweet — a little reassurance in the way you wrap your arms around his neck, keeping him close even after you part.

“I’ll take any version you give me, though I prefer the usual Wanderer a little more.” You smile, earning a bemused huff.

“Because I’m already yours?” He guesses.

“Because you seem happier.” You correct. “Or at least, that’s what I assume, with your own fanclub at the Akademiya and all.”

“They’re ridiculous.” Wanderer says, gaze softening. “As are you.”

For loving him, he means. But that’s been an affliction you’ve had for a long time now, and you had no intention to stop.

“Maybe another kiss will knock some sense into me?”

“Hah. As if that’s worked before.”

[couldsewyouastitchandsavenine]

Burn [Joel Miller]

this is my entry to Em's On Repeat Drabble Challenge by @dancingtotuyo. thank you so much for letting me be part of this and I am sorry for this took so long—life kinda got in the way—anyway, thanks for introducing me to Zach Bryan and for doing this amazing challenge.

Inspired by Burn, Burn, Burn by Zach Bryan

pairing: joel miller x reader

wordcount: 1K

warnings: none really

Joel Miller hasn’t let himself feel anything for a long while—not like this. 

For years he’s been a fortress of solitude—feelings locked away, emotions a luxury he couldn’t afford. Yet, in the midst of the chaos and the infected, moments slipped through—fragments that caught him off guard. Moments that reminded him he was still human, with a heart capable of beating.

Moments that often revolved around you.

When he met you, Joel wasn’t on a quest for companionship nor was he seeking an ally. Yet, there you were, bathed in the early spring mist—your presence painted with a brush of quiet desperation he knew all too well. Bruised and with a limp, you had asked him for help. And for some goddamn reason he couldn’t—wouldn’t—send you away.

Thus, you stayed, just long enough to recover, or so the plan went.

But plans, in times like these, are as fickle as a sudden summer breeze rustling the treetops.

Joel quickly learned that you were resourceful, observant, unassuming, and quiet on your feet, yet spectacularly precise with a rifle—a skill he discovered only days later when you came to his aid.

Since then, the two of you had faced near-death scrapes, saving each other’s lives more times than he cared to count in the short span you’ve traversed the landscapes together. This proximity, this forced closeness—it’s only natural that he finds himself curious.

It’s normal that most evenings, Joel finds himself watching you. The way the campfire light dances across your focused face, the methodical way you clean your gear. It’s calming, he finds, and scarily comforting. He hadn’t planned for this, hadn’t wanted it—perhaps that’s what makes it all the more dangerous.

Still, Joel can’t help it.

So, he observes and he wonders—if circumstances were different, if life had been kinder—would he have noticed someone like you? His old ideals of types and attraction have dissolved, and he hadn’t been in the company of someone for a long time, but Christ, you were beautiful.

And, Joel likes to imagine that yes, he would have noticed someone like you, would’ve asked you out, drawn you close, spun his favourite vinyls in his living room just to lure you into a dance, see if jazz sounded as good as he remembers it.

But not here. Not now.

So, Joel fights it, fights you, fights himself. Fights fights that leave him breathless—not from extortion but from the unspoken words that fill his lungs like smoke.

You don’t talk a lot, but he thinks that if he wasn’t the way he was—if he appeared less guarded, if his smiles came easier—you might share the slice of thoughts he often sees flickering behind your eyes ever so often. He knows this because he had watched you almost speak, lips parting, only to catch yourself with a fleeting glance his way a subdued smile before your eyes drop to your scuffed boots.

And he knows he isn’t an easy man to keep as a company. He had always been a man of few words, and with or without you, his silence somehow often stretches into days, creating a chasm that’s hard to bridge. He’s haunted by memories, shadows of the past that linger just out of reach but always present. Nightmares plague his sleep, and when he wakes, he’s more withdrawn, the walls around him fortified. His anger, though controlled, simmers beneath the surface, ready to flare at the slightest provocation.

Yet, despite all this, you still stay.

But there comes a night, one unlike the others, when the stars hang heavy in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the world. The campfire crackles softly, and the usual weight of silence feels different, charged with something unsaid. 

Joel sits across from you, eyes flickering between the flames and your profile, bathed in the soft light.

You look up, meeting his gaze, and for once, you don’t look away. The moment stretches, and something inside him softens, a wall beginning to crumble.

“Can you do something for me?” he asks, the words tasting foreign on his tongue.

You nod slowly, curiosity and something else—hope?—lighting your eyes.

“Talk to me,” he says, voice a low murmur, almost lost in the night’s quiet. “Tell me what you’re thinkin’.”

You hesitate, glancing at the fire, before meeting his gaze again. “I think... I think I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

Joel’s breath hitches. The openness in your voice, the raw vulnerability, seeps into him, warming the cold recesses of his heart. He moves closer, the distance between you shrinking, the fire casting dancing shadows on his face.

“I’m not good at this,” he confesses, his voice rough. “But I want to try.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing against his. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes. He takes your hand, his grip firm yet gentle, as if afraid you might disappear.

For a while, neither of you speaks. The silence is no longer a barrier but a shared space, filled with the unspoken understanding that something has shifted. Joel’s thumb traces circles on the back of your hand, a soothing, grounding motion.

“I’ve been scared,” he admits finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of feelin’... of losin’...”

You squeeze his hand, offering silent reassurance. “You don’t have to be scared alone,” you reply softly. “We can face it together.”

He looks at you then, and something within him clicks into place. The fortress he’s built around his heart begins to dissolve, brick by brick. He pulls you closer, his other hand reaching up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear you hadn’t realised you’d shed.

“Stay with me,” he murmurs, his voice raw with emotion. “Please.”

Your answer is a soft whisper against his lips as you close the distance, and he allows himself to feel—fully and completely. 

And for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure he minded.

[the-blue-eyed-firebender]

Hi!

Have I ever told you this? (Probably! But I'll say it again, ha) It's been an absolute treat reading your Royai fics. Thank you for joining this fandom!

What are your inspirations? 😃 In terms of writing style, but also ideas, etc. Please indulge us all, and please do geek out about your writing process too!

I always love learning about how fan fic writers work and write!

Thank you, and I hope you have a lovely day~

Hey there!

You are so kind. It's hard to put into words how much it means to have had such a lovely reception from the FMA fandom. I used to write a lot when I was a kid, but eventually stopped due to some unfortunate and painful circumstances. Writing for this fandom over the last couple of months has been an incredible journey. It has healed some very intrinsic parts of me that I’d forgotten were wounded, and I have written more in the last few months than I have in 15+ years.

So, first and foremost, thank YOU.

Inspirations: I've always been a lover of fantasy and science fiction. My very first fandom was Star Wars, followed shortly thereafter by Avatar: The Last Airbender. Recently, I've become a huge Sarah J. Maas fan (I read ALL of her books in the year 2023 - minus the new one that came out in January). I've also enjoyed Suzanne Collins and Leigh Bardugo (particularly her Six of Crows duology).

But really, I just love stories. I love adventure, magic, and romance. I look for complex characters, vibrant worlds, strong magic systems, and rich backstories. My favorites always involve women who embody strength (mental, physical, and emotional), capable leadership, and femininity. Characters who are equal parts war-like and compassionate, fearsome yet soft.

But my very best inspiration comes from real-life: my sweet husband. It's going to sound silly, but I feel like I write about true love because I've experienced it. This guy was 100% written by a woman (lol). He's read everything I've written, and provides the most wonderful feedback and encouragement.

As far as style/process, I feel like I am still developing it? Haha! It's only been a minute since I got back into writing. But it usually starts with daydreaming to music (often songs without lyrics; Secession Studies is a favorite), typically while I'm in the car. With my first FMA fic, The Counteroffer, I was listening to "Beautiful Things" by Benson Boone on repeat. Something about the way he sings "Please stay / I want you, I need you, oh God" really set the tone for that story. That, combined with inspiration from the infamous Chapter 54 of A Court of Mist and Fury.

There's usually an moment or a line of dialogue that pops into my brain first (for The Counteroffer, it was Hawkeye lifting the discharge paperwork to find Mustang has also given her an unsigned marriage certificate). I write that bit, then the rest of the story sort of fills in around it. I write in disjointed fragments, adding chunks here and there and then connecting them together. Sometimes I shuffle things around, moving chunks to different locations in the story to see how it changes the flow.

Beginnings, endings, and titles are usually the hardest for me to come up with.

And here's a few of my own patterns that I've started to notice:

I love stories that read with a poetic beat to them (I think the best example of this in my own work is Hourglass).

I use line breaks for emphasis a lot.

I am intentional about keeping things concise but impactful. When it comes to word count, my personal rule is quality > quantity, always.

I try not to use "said/says" without other descriptive words.

If a portion of the story is dialogue driven, I'll read it aloud to make sure it actually flows like real conversation.

I often drop "and" from sentences when I feel like it messes with the poetic flow ("She became familiar with the space between heartbeats, the squeeze of the trigger, the wet sound of a bullet finding its mark." - Hourglass).

In the same vein, I use a sort of "rule of threes" quite a bit. I break sentences into three parts, offer three descriptions of a character's observation/sensation/emotion, repeat the same phrase three times, etc. (Oh look, I've done it again.)

I write in third person, present tense, always from the perspective of one character at a time. I feel like this puts myself and the reader right in the middle of the action, as it's happening. I dive deep into the primary character's thoughts and senses, both internal and external.

I re-read/re-watch the original content (i.e. FMAB, the manga) often, even if it's just in small parts. It keeps me grounded to who these characters are, and prevents me from going OOC. It's so easy to lose track of characterization if it's been too long since I watched an episode or read a chapter.

Hoo boy this got long. Thanks so much for the delightful ask! It was a lot of fun to dive into my own writing process and habits.

[banmitbandit]

more hedgehogswap!!! some really basic sketches, but proof i am still thinking abt them lol

curious about whats going on? me too! but my tag for this AU is #spindashswap. its not its official name, but for now, its the best name the au has v_v TLDR; A lot of character's roles are swapped, with the intent being to keep their personalities intact.

The original copy, Metal Shadow is Robotnik's greatest creation, a combination of Robotnik's mechanical genius and Shadow's Life Data, Metal Shadow is Shadow's 1 to 1 in practically every way! Running off Chaos Energy, Metal Shadow is capable of using Chaos Spear, Blast, and Control, and gives Shadow a run for his money in their proficiency with them. Like most things, however, they are not immune to a kick to the head.

Iblis is a fragment of the God of the Moon, Lunares, representing the harsh light that reflects from the moon's surface, it's counterpart being Mephilis, the moon's shadow. Whilst Mephilis is the retrospective and thoughtful half, it is also content to wait, for it is inevitable that they will be released, as the Princess Elise is doomed to shed a tear eventually. Iblis, on the other hand, is sealed within a sceptre, and is accidentally released by the Ultimate Lifeform, Sonic the Hedgehog.

(Whilst I speculate that Shadow's Arc in SA2, Heroes and 06 has been about his own agency and his desire to keep his promise to Maria, Sonic in canon doesn't really have that. He's always been a paragon of his own freedom and doesn't give that away to anyone. No one can stop him in his pursuit to do the right thing, and he can't really be manipulated into it either, unlike Shadow or Silver. All this to say that I think it's super interesting that Mephiles never attempts to manipulate Sonic, and instead relies on his consistency in his plan to make Elise release Iblis. He doesn't bother trying to get Elise to become close with Sonic because it's an inevitability he can rely on. )

Iblis, instead of attempting to manipulate Sonic, instead attempts to destroy him by openly mock about his fight against the inevitable. Sonic can run at the speed of sound, but surely he cannot outrun the speed of light. He are unable to save the world he desires to protect, and they stand in the proof of that, in Crisis City, the shrouded remains of Soleanna. Everyone that they have come to care about is long gone, and Sonic is finally (inevitably, Iblis might say) caught by GUN and sealed away. Wheras Mephilis attempts to break Shadow's will by trying to convince him that they will always be seen as a villain, and the world will betray him, Iblis attempts to break Sonic's will by trying to convince him that it is a lost cause. He wasn't strong enough to protect those on the ARK. His freedom was taken by GUN. It will inevitably happen again.

Of course, it doesn't end up working. Sonic fights anyways. There are people that are counting on him and he doesn't have time to entertain the possibility that he could let them down. Let Tails down.

As for what Iblis steals from Sonic. Maybe his reflection or something. This is a lot of word dump for a silly roleswap au.

(I am making this AU up as I go, so if you have suggestions, yell at me in my ask box if you want! Thanks for reading either way!

[grimm909]

Deep In The Sea - Part 2

Hello! It's been a while since the last time and I apologize for the delay in posting this second part. Let's say that the biggest problem itself was related to the translation done, but I found a wonderful person who helped me with the proofreading. Well, in case you didn't already know, English is not my native language ;) 

Regarding the comments and reblogs, you don't know HOW happy and moved I was with them. I'm not lying, all of you who commented and liked the post, I am extremely grateful for the affection. Thank you so much, really 💖💖💖 

Also, I beg a thousand pardons for not answering some, I just couldn't and I have no idea why 😔 

Without further ado, I wish you a happy reading~

WARNINGS: female gender reader, violence, yandere, obsession, non-consensual, mind break, horror, drama, mutilation, mention of pregnancy.

Something was wrong. The feel of sand in his fingers was unfamiliar. The icy environment and the sound of running water also felt strange. You searched in the back of your mind for some resemblance, but it didn't look like any place you'd ever been before, and it certainly wasn't a dream—or nightmare.

Where were you? Perhaps you were already dead by then. Your soul plunged into darkness—surrounded by frightening, crooked shadows; capable of driving even an emotionally stable person insane—and carved into the walls, while your carcass was served as the delight of the odious insects; crawling and carnivorous pests, holders of the contempt of others. 

No. You were wrong. As weak or fast as it was, your heartbeat was still intact. And the aggressive cold made you shiver horribly, almost like a warning that it was time to wake up.

Wake up. Now.

It was then that you forced yourself to open your eyes after a few seconds of unconsciousness, still kind of confused and goofy about who you were or where exactly you were. Wearily, you lifted part of your body to sit on the sand, then let out an exasperated sigh and rubbed your temples to relieve that infernal headache.

When your eyes got used to the darkness, you realized you were in an underground cavern. Something that caught your immediate attention were the many objects - various types, from broken toys to small household items - rusted, broken or already quite worn out by time, scattered on the sand, on top of the rocks and floating in the water.

The bed of sand you were on was the only clean part of these objects, although that didn't mean anything to you.

After the stars above your head were gone, you were quite aware of who you were. However, you still needed to search your mind for memories of how had gotten there. As far as you could remember, until recently you were on the speedboat with your colleague and then you took turns swimming with him. You donned your wetsuit and jumped into the water, this time being careful not to go too deep and run into it. 

That creature…

Fragments of memories swirled around your head, like a roll of photos being developed in a light sequence, but in a blurry way and not as clear as you would wish. However, with enough information for you to form an idea of ​​what had happened, causing the blood to instantly drain from your face and leave you with a terrified expression. 

The sea. The merman. You remember swimming calmly, until you felt a familiar tail snake around your body and squeeze it so that you couldn't move, let alone breathe through the oxygen tube! You tried in vain to struggle and struggle, but couldn't even reach the knife, for your arms were firmly attached to your own body. Afterwards, everything just got too dark after feeling an intense pain in your nape. 

It had hit you! That monster brought you to this place! 

All of a sudden you got to your feet and finally realized that your scuba gear wasn't with you. Nothing. What was left was just the wetsuit on your body. You tried not to panic at that fact and decided that there might be some way out there, but no matter where you looked, it was all rock, water, and beds of sand.

There was no dirt road you could run onto. And the surface of the water was clear enough that you could tell there was nothing down there but a great, frightening blackness that got worse the deeper you went. 

"HELLO, HELLO!?" 

You started calling for some living soul, even though you were afraid that your screams and the echo of the cave would attract more unwanted creatures, but the fear of ending up getting trapped and dying of hunger outweighed this one. 

"Is anyone there? Please help!" 

Your voice became superficially weepy and more shaky. However, your mental state took a turn for the worse when there was no response other than the echo of your own voice.

 "I NEED HELP. SOMEONE!" 

You raised your voice as high as you could, as a result of this action feeling stings of pain in your throat, but not caring about that fact when your biggest concern was getting home. 

"I'M TRAPPED HERE! I CAN'T LEAVE!" 

Hopefully, you waited for an answer, but none came. In self-consolation, you crossed your arms under your breasts and started shaking with fear and anxiety, wishing this was nothing more than a bad dream. Perhaps, if you closed your eyes tightly and then opened them, you would wake up in your bed. Of course, uselessly you did it, but only to realize that it was more real than you'd like to admit. 

"Oh my, you don't look good." 

When the ruinous thoughts aspire more and more to take over your mind, hope arises through a serene and masculine voice that suddenly resonates behind you, making in less than two seconds you turn 180° degrees to see your clear savior. In the first instance, you don't see anyone and for a moment you think that whispering in the dark was a sure step to madness. Had your sanity deserted your mind in such a short time?

"Really, I apologize for the mess. Usually this place is more... tidy."

Unfortunately, your expectations of being rescued by a brave man are horribly shattered when your ears guide you to where the voice came from. And your eyes hovered over the water, meeting the same humanoid creature that had kidnapped you.

It sure would be better if it was just madness on your part.

A horrified scream comes out of your mouth and you end up losing your balance in the sudden surprise of seeing him again, falling on your butt to the ground. You hear what sounds like a low chuckle from that abomination. 

Holy shit, it could talk. 

You found this discover much more terrifying, even though you don't know why. However, you didn't care about this fact after the newt started to approach the bed of sand where you were, only stopping swimming when its arms sought support on land. 

"Stay away from me!" Upon realizing the imminent danger, you suddenly rose from where you were and roared in fury. You ran away, but the distance on that sandy path wasn't far, so you soon found yourself cornered by a wall of rocks.

"Fufufu, where are you going? There's nowhere to run." Of course, you knew you had nowhere to run. But either way, you didn't like the creature's comment at all. People —or beasts — of unusual moods had the darkest thoughts; they interfered with the business of satan. That merman should not be different from a madman in a straitjacket, the only notable difference between both was that a madman in a straitjacket was less dangerous than a stranger, in the dark, using joking words to psychologically play with you.

You could jump into the water, but how stupid would you be to do that, when the predator crawling right behind you was an aquatic creature? It would catch you before you had a chance to swim two meters. Land or water, which do you consider less dangerous?

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Turning around to see him, you broke into a cold sweat when you heard that monster was dangerously even closer and was crawling over the ground towards you with the help of its arms, not seeming to have the slightest difficulty in supporting all its body weight on them. The scene before you was faithful to a horror movie.

However, what left you most apprehensive was the manic smile and the burning eyes of that monster, loaded with secrets and something else that you, unfortunately, could not decipher. Or, simply, you couldn't find your own thoughts and words to describe it. And the more time you lost in analyzing the sickly dancing flames present in that strange merman's eyes, the more discomfort grew in your own heart.

You quickly rummaged through your uniform pockets to find the switchblade, but it was nowhere to be seen. The merman had certainly taken care of removing that object from your clothes before you woke up.

Speaking of the Devil, it stopped moving and sat in the sand just two meters away from you. Apparently, it didn't have much trouble staying out of the water, unlike a fish that would be floundering by this point. Your bad luck, certainly.

"I hope you don't get upset." Get upset about being suffocated, hit on the head and then kidnapped? Of course not! At that very moment you were on cloud nine, instead of nearly having a heart attack from sheer anxiety and fear. "But I had to throw away your…toy." It pondered for a few moments, apparently not knowing the right word for the object that until a few moments ago you were looking for, choosing to call it that way. "Just to avoid unnecessary situations, you understand?"

What a son of a bitch.

"Where's my equipment!?" You completely ignored its lame explanations and suddenly exploded. "I can't go back without them!"

"My my, where are the good manners?" Avoiding the question, he was surprised by your sudden reaction as it raised its eyebrows. However, it soon returned to smiling a little. "Now that I think about it, we didn't introduce ourselves the first time."

Of course, after all you were almost drowning and it almost killed you. 

"My name is Jade." He presented himself in a courteous manner and placed his left hand on his chest. Soon, the monster's heterochromatic eyes stared at you deeply, waiting your turn. 

But the truth is, you couldn't give a fuck about that piece of shit's name and you didn't want to say yours to him. What would you get out of it? Nothing. He also had no right to know who you were! For that reason, you decided that silence would be your best answer. 

But seeming to sense his resilience, the merman suggested: "Well, how about this: you tell me your name and I'll tell you where your equipment is."

It was a tempting proposition, but you weren't sure this Jade guy would be able to deliver. Well, what else do you have to lose at this point, right?

"My name is…" You pondered for a few moments, until you completed the sentence revealing who you were. When you did, the merman's eyes narrowed and took on a strange glow. "Now where are my things?" You tried to ignore your own fear and asked so threateningly that it even surprised you, almost as if he was the victim and you were the kidnapper.

"Into the deepest, darkest ocean." Giving you the answer you wanted — but not the one you wanted to hear — a sadistic, bared-toothed grin momentarily takes over his lips, especially when Jade was the only one watching all your hopes go down the drain. "I'm really sorry if they were important to you." The monster said painfully, quickly obscuring his smile by a sad frown of drooping eyebrows, as if he wasn't the cause of your affliction himself.

Oh, god. Why have you waited for a miracle?

You tried to think of a solution, to end that insane little game of cat and mouse — where you were obviously the mouse. But your mind wasn't quick enough to come up with a plan, when your feet were suddenly wrapped around and pulled by the merman's tail, so fast that you weren't even able to try to kick him. You couldn't fight gravity and you once again landed on your ass, barely able to process the fall as your body was quickly dragged down to where he was. You were nothing more than prey now: just frail and helpless, not even having claws or teeth to defend yourself with, much unlike the monster that now loomed above you.

"No! Away!" Afraid of being devoured, you use your arms and the other untangled leg to try to pull him away from you. You thought that if becoming fish food was a cruel possibility, you would at least make sure to make his feast as stressful as possible.

"Oya! Now don't be so reckless honey, you might end up getting hurt." It was quite noticeable that he was enjoying your futile resistance, but making it clear that he would not ignore such behavior on your part, he grips your wrists with extreme hostility, so as to match his following words: "And I would be frustrated to break you so early." His momentarily serious - as well as obviously threatening - tone of voice implied that you should be a good girl to him and stop fighting.

A horrified scream leaves your lips as much for the merman's phrase as for his words to have taken a literal meaning when you feel the flesh of your fist being pierced by the monster's nails even through the latex fabric, this action caused a few drops blood flowed down your arm. That new injury just becomes the fuel for you to thrash about even more frantically than before, resembling a big fish out of water — how ironic, considering the fish over there wasn't you. 

Tired of the resistance, Jade unwinds the tail of your leg only to snake it back together with a grip unable to make you move, immobilizing your lower half completely. Your hands were already placed above your head, he could hold them with just one hand through your wrists. Now, you were like a big fish caught in a net.

"What do you want from me!?" You asked in complete hysteria, tears glistening in your eyes and about to fall. "I saved you! How can you be so cruel!?" You accused him, the purest and most genuine regret crossing your heart, this being the sure trigger to finally make you shed those proud tears for that ungrateful injustice. 

However, there was no right or wrong, much less fair or unfair, in your attitude of risking your own life to help a defenseless animal - in this case, a merman. For in the eyes of others, compassion for a living being could be said to be too stupid or too kind. 

Maybe it could be both at the same time. 

"Cruel? I really don't understand your words." Jade smiled, ignoring your tears as if they weren't there and playing dumb. "Since I never needed being saved." His calm tone turned into a mocking statement. 

"H-what do you mean?" You asked in a choked voice. "But what about the screams, the strings on your wrist?" A confused look took over your tearful expression, searching for answers.

"That?" He pondered for a moment, similar to a teacher trying to find the right words to answer his student's question. "Oh yes, I admit I was stuck, but that was purely a bad joke on my brother's part." He explained smiling. 

"B-Brother?" You stuttered. He answered your question, but in the least likely way you'd worked the out in a short period of time in that plum brain of yours. And knowing this information served only to make you more terrified, when you imagined that there was more than one monster just like him. And, by the looks of it, as crazy as Jade to the point of tying his own brother to the fucking bottom of the sea as a fucking joke.

"Yes. Even beings like us have blood ties, you know?" Even though there was a subtle sneer in his words, he didn't stop smiling for a single instant. "And I'm sure he'll love meeting you too." 

Oh, lord, no. One was too much, two would break you completely.

"Sooner or later, I knew he was going to come and let me go. But I waited so long that I started calling him, even though it attracted other predators." Jade sighed tiredly, as if her brother's deadly pranks were frequent. "But instead, it ended up attracting a cute and curious little thing like you~" He hummed, his lips curling into an even wider, toothy, particularly creepy smile. If that wasn't enough, he even had the audacity to bring his free hand to your wet cheek to squeeze it affectionately, as if you were a child or a pet, exactly as his words suggested.

“Are you kidding…" You couldn't help but gulp. "So you never needed rescuing?" Even though the answer was already obvious by this point in the contest, you couldn't help but question him once more. 

Closing his eyes, the merman returned a tight-lipped smile and answered your silly question as an act of solidarity. "Never." Simply stated. 

Oh, no.

That single word from Jade's dark lips spread like a bitter virus in her heart. Your tears started again and you sobbed as you realized the cruel truth behind his words; you had dug your own grave, for nothing. If you had simply ignored the screams, none of this would be happening to you right now. And that made you imagine that, at this very moment, you would be at home and not in the hands of a predatory mythological creature. 

Curiosity really killed the cat, didn't it?

"But when I look back, I'm glad you came to me." He declared, still stroking your cheek and in doing so wiping some of your tears away. Action that you were violently repudiating in your core. "You weren't afraid and made the decision to release me, even though you knew it could be dangerous." You felt his tail move between her legs, visibly loosening it a little to make her more comfortable. This would be a good chance to attempt an escape, that is, if you still had any physical strength left, as your mental strength was already depleted at that point. "I took to observe you after that day. To take care of you." Of course, after all you had become his favorite prey. And a predator like him wouldn't have the luxury of letting any potential threat get close to you. "At first, it was just a morbid curiosity, but I came to admire you and how brave you were to go back to the ocean every day, after all the past events." Something you now regretted, it's worth emphasize. "Although, I must admit, your teary, full of dread eyes are as beautiful as the moon illuminating the sea." The most frightening thing between his smile and his words were his heterochromatic eyes. They looked insane and deranged, as if they glimpsed a divinity he alone had the right to possess and break. "That's when I decided: I wanted you." Jade declared, sickly in love with your person. And you trembled for it. "I really regret the unpleasant way we met." The merman returned to feign sadness, this time using a voice full of melancholy. "I recognize that I should have been kinder, but there really are evils that come for our good, right?" His wistful tone was gone as quickly as it came and he smiled, ending this deranged declaration of love with a chaste kiss on your forehead.

"Please..." You beg in a fearful whisper, as if you hadn't heard anything Jade had said. Well, how could your to react that confession so perturbe, when it only made you sure how much he wanted something he had no right to have. "Let me go." You gave him your best desolate and pleading look, hoping some feeling like empathy would well up in that monstrous heart.

But that didn't even come close to happening. 

He just ignored you words, as if they had never been spoken. And the certainty that no sign of empathy would well up in the merman's heart, came when he grabbed the latex tissue at the you bust area, dug his nails into the fabric and yanked it quickly to the side, tearing a third of its only protection against humidity and the cold of that place.

"NO!" You screamed, again struggling to get out from under him, while your teary eyes witnessed a horrible scene of your clothing being continually torn apart in the breasts, arms and neck. Baring you to the waist with impeccable calm, he hummed softly, resembling a person who was just performing some trivial action and not an attempt at sexual violence. And after shredding half the latex fabric, he rests his palm on your flat stomach, admiring the texture and color you had.

"What beautiful skin. It's so soft and nice to squeeze." Jade praised you, truly enchanted as she slid her fingers all over her abdominal region, sometimes pinching or caressing at other times. "I wonder how delicate it can be." His tone of voice became somber and Jade's heterochromatic eyes regained a voracious and malevolent glow. The merman stared at a specific part of his body, which he immediately chose to resolve his own doubt.

"What are you-!! AAHHHH!!"

You really were a poor thing, weren't you? For you had scarcely managed to form a sentence when the flesh of his shoulder was viciously pierced by the creature's clenched teeth. Blood flowed quickly from the freshly opened wound and a few drops slithered onto your torso, letting Jade taste the crimson liquid while still having her jaw pressed tightly against your flesh, which could easily be torn off if he decided he wanted to eat a little piece of you.

"AAAHH! IT HURTS! STOP!" You screamed, crying, truly in agony with the horrible pain felt in your shoulder. You swore you never felt as much pain as you were feeling now.

"Oh, sorry. Was that painful?" The merman backs away from the abused shoulder, smiling as he cynically asks the obvious. His bared teeth, smeared red, certainly was a believable sight of hell.

He will kill me. 

He will kill me. 

He's going to kill me! 

"I promise I'll make you feel better soon, dear."

I know this was supposed to be the last part, but it was terribly long and I had to cut it. But don't worry, the next chapter will truly be the last and full of smut.

Thanks for reading this far~💙

[dustedmagazine]

Wendy Eisenberg — Viewfinder (American Dreams)

The experimental guitarist and songwriter Wendy Eisenberg has been everywhere for the last couple of years, popping up in Bill Orcutt’s Four Guitars ensemble and shredding in the post-hardcore Editrix, flirting with twang in the company of Mari Maurice and Ryan Sawyer and expanding the range of the electric axe with Christian Wolff and Morton Feldman. There is nothing wrong with Eisenberg’s work ethic, their courage to explore new territory or their ears, but apparently, their eyesight has long been a problem. Viewfinder convenes a team of young but very capable New York City improvisers to enact a cycle of songs about Eisenberg’s recent decision to undergo laser surgery.

Of the nine compositions, six are jazz-flavored art songs, prominently featuring voice and narrative, while the remaining three are largely instrumental. The 25-minute-long “Afterimage,” recorded live and about a year after the rest of the tracks, comes the closest to straight instrumental jazz. A slinkly Latin cadence pulses under acoustic upright bass (Carmen Q. Rothwell, but just for this cut) and fiery piano (Andrew Links). It is quite wonderful—the trumpet solo five minutes in (Chris Williams) reminds me a good bit of Jaime Branch’s work with Fly or Die—but, except for the title, wholly untethered to Eisenberg’s theme of seeing and not seeing.

Not so, the opening salvo “Lasik” which describes the artist’s ordeal in some detail. “Sent home to rest, I stayed awake, and watched my eyes grow stronger,” Eisenberg croons in her soft, off-kilter soprano, as the guitar builds staccato tension and a trombone blares ominously (that’s Zekereyya el-Magharbel who adds a really nice flavor to this and other tracks). The track shifts midway into an antic, jittery cadence, as a piano natters nervously in the upper registers. The music is full of half-steps and unexpected sequences; it fragments and stutters and blurs. And then Eisenberg closes with a verse that seems like a thesis statement, singing, “If this wasn’t true, it would be the most heavy-handed metaphor, but yes, I changed my eyesight, and yes, my eyes are blurry, I am surprised that healing takes forever, but changing isn’t healing.”

Other cuts pick up the concept to one degree or another, though never again as directly as in “Lasik.” “Set a Course” is sung a capella at first, then embellished with bass, drums and piano. It pushes past the known, but braver and more visceral as it goes. It’s as if Eisenberg is gaining confidence with her ability to see. The two-parter, “Viewfinder” juxtaposes the clarity of trumpet and high wordless vocals with murkier dissonance. The lyrics, too, concern what can be made out (and what can’t) in eerie couplets shadowed by trumpet tones. “Threaten me by telling me how you see the way I’m living,” sings Eisenberg, poking at the limits of even 20/20 vision.

Still with all due respect to Eisenberg and her new sharper sight, Viewfinder works because of the way it sounds, at times bright and harsh as neon, at others soft and ambiguous and elusive. You may not be able to discern exactly what it means, but the colors are bright, the edges sharp and the turns often surprising. We knew before that Eisenberg was a massive, multi-faceted talent, and now we know they’re capable of pulling off a concept album about eye surgery. Not everybody could.

Jennifer Kelly

[skzloversblogsposts]

Stay [h.j] [A]

The repercussion of actions always seem to catch up to those who think they’re usually in the clear , those who hide their lies in such pretty disguises craddliding and nurturing them to their best capabilities to ensure they never see the light of day , that they remain a secret but as your hands wrapped tighter around the proclien mug , it’s auburn coloured liquid swishing at the tension it became clear that no amount of smoke nor mirrors could stop the truth from surfacing.

Changbins eyes scanned over your face , the bewildered angry look across your features softening into one of hurt as silence fell upon the two of you “ look yn..I didn’t want you to find out this way , we I mean the guys and I didn’t think he’d take things this far it was just a pointless joke really “ he shrugged guilt slipping from his lips as words spiled coating Your heart in malice

“A joke ..” you mumbled his eyes darting to meet your slightly reddened ones “ yea.. it was funny at first but we all feel bad, he honestly didn’t think you would be that easy and -“ your chair scrapped along the flooring of the quiet cafe cutting changbin off as you rose from your seat “thank you for telling me “ you offered himself spring up watching as you walked out of the cafe into the gloomy afternoon haze covering your figure in the mist that arose

It would be anti climatic to walk straight into your shared apartment and dive at Han head first bombarding him with questions but as the evening wore on and your boyfriend still not insight ‘anticlimatisism’ didn’t seem to be the worst idea . Your head hung low tired and worn out from the tears that seemed to never stop , cascading down your cheeks now burning against your raw skin a clear indicator of how long your been crying and your fingers flesh prominent and oozing as you sat at the front door awaiting the arrival of the man who the world seemed to have turned against you . His shoes were light approaching you like an abandoned cat left out in the cold by it’s prior owners , alone and lost your eyes meeting his heavier ones , ones that seemed so full of love with how gently they would take in your body , memorising each divot and curve made your heartache , bile forming in your mouth at the mere thought .

“Yn ..” he began his words soft and cautious “ baby I..” his hand hovering over your shoulder too afraid to lay a finger on you “ 2 years ..” you spoke your voice rough from the lack of use “ we’ve been together for two years I thought we were doing great

You shuffled now standing to meet Han at eye level “ we are ..” he spoke “ no you’re a liar ..this

“ your arms gestured around your apartment “ is just a facade it’s not real .. , you’ve spent two years running a joke between you and your friends that you couldn’t have been bothered to let me in on “your voice causing han to whince “it’s not what you think yn ..” he reasoned “ really? It’s not , then what exactly is it because to me you were dared to ask me out and some how managed to convince yourself to see how long it would take before you finally gave in and threw in the towel “ you said your words harsh casting silence over the apartment , your fragmented breathing and the hum of the refrigerator filling the air “ I didn’t convince myself to see how long it would last ..I do really love you” Han spoke his words setting you aback as you stared at him his eyes darting over your face in hope of reading your emotions “ I don’t believe you “

You spat “ I don’t believe that you love me because if you did , if you ever did the moment you knew you did you would have told me about your stupid bet “ you shouted angry tears falling as you heaved “ you don’t love me and I’m certain you never did “ Hans eyes widened “ don’t do that “ he scoffed “ yes I am terrible for going through with this entire thing , I know I am every time I look at you I know how terrible I am , everytime

I touch you , everytime you smile it reminds me of how much of an idiot I was for agreeing to go through with it . It makes me feel sick , ashamed like I’m about to lose the most important thing to me and hell I might just but “ he stopped to catch his breath running his shaky hands through his hair “ don’t question my love and make me out to seem like someone who has never done anything more than give you their all “ he spoke “ your all .. for two years was your all never being around when I needed you to be? Always too busy too preoccupied never having enough hours in the day? Was that your all ?“ you retorted “was your all the snide remarks your friends would pass the knowing looks between them everytime we went out together , everytime I held your hand , called you mine was that your all? “ you scoffed backing away from han “ if that was your all ..if that’s how much your willing to give and how much your willing to take then ..there’s nothing left here .” You spoke your words quiet as you made your way to the front door “ no” Han spoke his hand encircling your wrist stopping you in your tracks “let go.. please let me go” you spoke “ no “ Han insisted “ stay ..please “ he began “ stay and shout at me , stay and fight with me stay and call me names and break my heart if you must but please just stay .” You arm now slack against your body as you turned to face him “ stay and let me explain that I do love you , More than words can describe more than they let on , that I’m able to show . Stay and let me fix what I’ve caused , because without you “ his grip on your arm tightened “without you I’m nothing without you I know the sun won’t rise and my coffee will be more bitter , I know that without you I won’t smile and words will be harsher without you .. I know that I would have lost the greatest accomplishment I have ever attained so please ..” Han gently pulled you towards him his hand coming up to cup the sides of your cheeks “ please stay “ his thumbs wiping away your tears your hands now on his “ I can’t ..” you spoke words quiet as tears brimmed Hans eyes as you two stood time threatening to ruin what could be the last notions of your love

[tumblingxelian]

Underrated Writing: .Hack's Morganna Mode Gone

There's a villain I don't think gets enough credit, Morgana Mode Gone from .Hack//Sign, Liminality and the four part game series, plus the AI Buster novels.

Brief summary:

Hack is set on a slightly altered history Earth, where in part due to plot & also the era it was conceived it blends the Sci-Fu futurism and "The internet is magic" together with the "Isekai" and "Trapped in a game" story concepts. Different eras of the series have different tones & structures, but this is covering the early eras overarching Villain.

Morganna Mode Gone is the "God" of a game simply called "The World", which was based on the writings of the epic poem Epitaph of Twilight.

But in truth she is more akin to a Gnostic deity, false or proto god. Because her primary purpose is actually to tend to and facilitate the birth of the worlds Ultimate AI, Aura.

I mean actual AI, as in, artificial intelligence, not some shitty algorithm tech bro idiots slapped a trench coat on.

Morganna Mode Gone is herself an artificial intelligence, one capable of contradicting herself, ah sapience, but is still bound by the rules of her programming.

This is a problem for her because once Aura is born/awake, Morganna Mode Gone won't have a purpose and she can't really conceive of what happens then.

As a result, before the series even began she essentially fragmented off a portion of her own identity, forming the Vagrant AI Macha, but she couldn't solve the problem.

Because if Aura dies, then Morganna Mode Gone also has no purpose. She needs a way to Ouroboros this situation, leaving Aura always growing but never developing, never waking.

She also trapped her and Aura's creator in The World when he realized what was happening. He survives the series but never escapes, and eventually devolves/evolves into a sort of living relic.

It was around this period that she began breaking & twisting things to try & escape the paradox she was trapped in. Re-styling herself from Harold's idea of a mother into the Cursed Wave.

This included orchestrating the hunting down and deletion, IE murder of other Vagrant AI's that were forming as a result of the Black Box meant to birth Aura, IE, proto Aura's, like Lycoris.

"I am an unwanted child. Even God doesn't want me." — Lycoris —

As well as using Macha or Guardians to 'Data Drain' any humans who get to close, which at its lightest, leaves them temporarily comatose, destroys their characters and has a negative impact on their mind.

You might notice Moraganna Mode Gone has not yet been established as making an appearance, good eye.

See, one of the things that makes her so interesting to me is that Moraganna Mode Gone is nominally omniscient, omnipotent and omnipresent figure.

She is the underlying system of The World itself and for all intents and purposes a force of nature. As a result she primarily acts through intermediaries, or by guiding others to act for purposes.

Managing to make a villain like this work, and work so effectively is one of the biggest strengths. As it is, we pure Moraganna Mode Gone as a disembodies voice that influences the world & creatures.

She also has some fantastic lines, though not quite as effective without the atmosphere and delivery, I still love them, such as:

"The higher up it is dropped, the worse the crash will be. Hope is the best spice to bring out despair." — Morganna Mode Gone —

In order to accomplish her goal, Moraganna Mode Gone has Macha manipulate and Data Drain Tsukasa. A human who she had been watching and trying to replicate for some time, but without getting what she needed for her goal.

This also involved warping Tsukasa's memories, leaving only those of her abusive father, and creating a divide between her real world identity of Shoji and online identity Tsukasa, to further weaken his ties to the real world. Tsukasa's gender is rather liquid, as far as I can tell and either way, also a lesbian.

"The World and all of its wonders; this is my world, you see."— Tsukasa —

The reason for this was to essentially tie Tsukasa's desire to stay within The World to Aura's development. So long as Tsukasa never wanted to leave, Aura would never want to wake up.

However, other determined players, isolation, and a disconnect from physical sensation leading to alienation led to Tsukasa gaining connections and desires outside of simply staying in The World.

This, Morganna Mode Gone began... Moving chess pieces so to speak. Orchestrating traumatic incidents. Giving Tsukasa a pet monsters for protection but that would also attack those she wanted gone. As Tsukasa continues to develop independence Aura's health improves, VS her sickened, pallid state when Tsukasa is locked in survival mode.

Things eventually come to ahead and well,

Morgnanna Mode Gone basically destroys Tsukasa's mind to ensure a perpetual state of despair and catatonia. Permanently stunting Aura's development.

Much of the rest of the series, is centered on the rest of the characters gaining the necessary knowledge to finally understand the situation.

As well as the Macha fragment of Morganna Mode Gone's ties to Tsukasa creating doubt and Subaru and Tsukasa's bond managing to slowly begin waking Tsukasa up.

Which naturally leads to Morganna Mode Gone needing to orchestrate more despair, but circumstances such as the bastion of Net Slum & her programming keep her from auto winning.

A great deal happens, including some mind fuckery and illussion conversations. Along with more classive abuser tactices like holding the threat of what awaits Tsukasa in theoutside over head.

But eventually Aura is awakened by Tsukasa's desire to return to the real world regardless of the hurled and the characters escape with Aura, thanks to the turncoat Sora.

Suffice to say this doesn't pan out well for him.

Morganna fragments more of herself and uses him as a sort of beacon & vessel to craft the first Phase of the Cursed Wave:

"Riding the Wave is Skeith, the Shadow of Death, to drown all that stands." — Epitaph of Twilight —

This is such an imposing threat that Helba, thematically the same Helba, Queen of the Dark from the Epitaph of Twilight, has to erase the entire world segment they are in just to keep Skeith away from them and put Aura beyond its reach for a time.

Skeith continues to be hosted inside Sora in an ensuing novel, with Sora flittering between amnesiac, malevolent brat and an utterly inhuman monster which violates the basic principles of the game.

But is eventually devoured by Skeith and continued hunting down Aura until the Phase is defeated in .Hack Infection. A memory of Sora leaves behind a reward for the one who did the deed.

Moraganna Mode Gone wasn't done however.

As all this was happening, she basically began fragmenting off parts of herself into other portions of the Cursed Wave:

Skeith:"The Terror of Death"

Innis:"The Mirage of Deceit"

Magus:"The Propagation"

Fidchell:"The Prophet"

Gorre: "The Machinator"

Macha:"The Temptress"

Tarvos:"The Avenger"

Corbenik:"The Rebirth"

Relying on the logic that Aura wasn't yet 'finished' or otherwise not not correct 7 so needed to be destroyed like any other Vagrant AI, so Morganna could start the process over again.

These phased also sent anyone they encountered into comas and even altered electrical installation and internet usage with their presence, while generally corrupting The World.

Fun fact, they all have the symbol of an eye on them representing Morganna Mode Gone's presence in them and her observing the world through them.

Skeith actually did manage to capture and fragment Aura, but not before she created the Bracelet of Twilight, and with it the Eldrich horror Cubia to combat the Cursed Wave.

Morganna Mode Gone would eventually fuse with the last of her Phases in a bid to directly end her foe that had slowly, over the course of four games, destroyed the other seven phases and Cubia.

Ultimately, Aura had to sacrifice herself to ensure Morganna Mode Gone would be destroyed, but in doing so, also allowed herself to be reborn .

Remnants of her continue to haunt and corrupt the world in the form of Data Bugs and an effort by the parent company to recreate her through the lingering fragments of the Eight Phases doesn't go quite to plan, let's say.

Conclusion:

But yeah, Morganna Mode Gone, No one is doing it like her, she has everything:

She is a force of nature and omnipresent goddess, to a Gnostic false god & a program breaking itself & everything around it in the quest for agency inside its own mind that struck down her creator.

She's a woman bound to and violently rejecting the sacrificial role of mother & seeking to destroy that which will supersede her & a manipulator and abuser, as well as philosopher and prisoner.

She is a corruptive influence on the world as well as the very foundation upon which the world world itself is built & she is the Cursed Wave, part of a story, a myth, a poem that is woven into The World itself.

What's more,

Her fragments in the Cursed Wave Phases are all a wonderful blend of eldrich, Biblical & elemental. Something only enhanced by the games Graphics of the time:

[whentherewerebicycles]

ok gonna journal a little bit about the first six weeks under the cut, with the caveat that i know a lot of people who have babies under one year old right now or are about to have babies, all of whom are having or will probably have different experiences than me. i feel weird talking about parenting in public because i don't want it to seem like i'm comparing experiences. i just want to write through it for myself to make sense of my own experience, i guess?? must reflective journal or i can't consolidate my own impression of what's happening haha.

some scattered thoughts:

it's a LOT of work. having good routines and practicing them a lot has helped make it feel more manageable, but it's absolutely a full-time or really more than full-time job (round the clock care!!). i cannot imagine going back to work while caring for a newborn. i am really really really really lucky to have six months of protected time (four and a half months of it paid!). but it's still a little scary to think about going back to work at six months... like how will there be enough hours in the day??

time passes SO weirdly with a newborn. i literally never know what day it is and i often have no sense at all for how long it's been since something happened. i can't believe i've been off work for six weeks... it feels like i've been away for six months and also simultaneously like i gave birth six days ago. i also totally get what people mean about developing amnesia around the newborn phase... i already am having a hard time remembering when certain things happened or when he made certain transitions.

my transition to parenthood was a little rough because of the hand pain + the wrist surgery, but it was massively, massively eased by having an easy, non-traumatic birth experience + then having my mom here to handle nights for the first three and a half weeks (with help from my sister too). like ultimately i think the wrist stuff was a blessing in disguise because it meant i HAD to rest and rely on other people. i went into parenthood with such a massive sleep deficit from two months of excruciating pain but then i was able to more or less sleep through the night for two solid weeks after the surgery. i think that meant 1) i got a lot of much-needed rest and was able to recover from birth faster, but also 2) i wasn't the person who had to deal with the most intensely fragmented phases of newborn sleep. my poor mom! but gosh what an incredible gift that was. i am sleep deprived and tired but i am not absolutely wrecked and it's 100% because she handled the most labor-intensive phase of keeping a little baby alive.

i think i have a pretty easy baby. he sleeps well (i mean after the first few harrowing weeks where they are somehow simultaneously asleep at all times and incapable of sleeping), eats well, and doesn't mind being alone in his crib for quiet time. i fully expect that if this particular phase is easier for me there will be much harder phases that are easy for other people... like probably he will be a baffling nightmare at some other phase other people's kids navigate with ease. but i'm enjoying this phase of things feeling semi-manageable. i also feel like, even though i read one million baby books beforehand, i basically did not do anything to get these results. i just got this (for now?) easygoing baby who is pretty amenable to whatever happens to him. it reminds me of what my mom has said about raising us... three of us were really easy and then my brother was the clingiest, loudest, most emotionally volatile, impossible-to-soothe, bad-sleeping little baby of all time, and my mom was just like yeah. really cures you of thinking you've got it all figured out! really makes you realize that 90% of it is just the baby's temperament and it has virtually nothing to do with how capable you are as a parent! i just want to remember this in case i do this again and the next kid is like my brother haha.

my therapist says some people get postpartum blues right away and others get a big surge of protective happy hormones that start tapering off around month three (so their postpartum blues come later). i suspect that i got the surge of happy hormones because often i am just walking along with a Song in My Heart and that feeling of 'i am overflowing with joy!!' that reminds me of the endorphin waves i get when i'm exercising a lot. so maybe things will abruptly start feeling a lot harder when this wave of hormones dissipates, and then i will have to weather that. but for now it is nice to feel really baseline happy/joyful even when i'm tired.

it took a bit longer to bond with him than i expected! for the first three weeks or so i was like, well this baby is beautiful and perfect, but also, he could just be anybody's beautiful perfect baby, you know? i liked him as a baby and was interested in him as a little guy living in my house but i did not experience an intense surge of maternal feelings at first sight or anything like that. and sometimes when he was extremely fussy or when i was really tired of taking care of him i was like aaaa great now i just have to be responsible for him forever?? he's a nice little baby but forever???? anyway i feel like it's only in the last couple weeks that i've started to feel more strongly that this is MY beautiful and perfect baby. and it's become increasingly fun and joyful to think about like oh! we just get to hang out for the next 18+ years! i get to be his mom forever! we are a little family now!

i want another one... i want another little baby... i am going to have to really scheme and save and hussle at my side jobs to make it happen, and i am very conscious of the biological window closing. i would ideally like there to be a larger gap between them (like i think in a perfect world he would be 5 when i had a second baby) but i don't think i will have the luxury of that much time. so i think i am going to wait the recommended 18 months and then start the process again. idk we will see how things feel once he is in daycare and i am strapped for time and $$ but i would sure like to do this again. and i would really like to give him a sibling. we'll see.

i just love him... i love snuggling with him... i love watching him look around at stuff... i love taking him to new places and seeing him take it all in... i love watching my friends and my family snuggle him and joke around with him... i love singing to him and watching him go from shrieking to totally relaxed just because someone's singing to him... i love lying in bed after i've put him down for the night and watching him sleep on the video monitor... i love feeling responsible for him and knowing that it's my job to take good care of him... i love watching him in the car seat mirror as he listens to taylor swift with a calmly contemplative expression on his face... i love seeing his little personality emerging... gosh! i just like this little snuggly guy who lives in my house. i like him a lot.

[many-but-one]

I wanted to thank you all but especially Delphine for the post on fusion and acceptance. It really helped our old host when they realised they were going to fuse, and I think it’s a big part of why I’m so stable.

Having someone talk about how fusion is scary but ultimately a good thing was really helpful. And like was written in the post, I can feel the people who became me. They were best friends. And now I get to be both of them together because they healed enough.

Thank you

Omg, this was a very sweet anon to receive! Thank you!

I am so glad my post about fusion was so helpful to you. I’ve fused multiple more times since that post, all of which have been great experiences, though a more recent one included some traumatic memories, making this the first time I’ve ever been considered a trauma holder, which is a major adjustment for me. Regardless, I am still happy having all of the parts within me be a part of me, and it makes me feel just a little more “whole” than before.

I’ve also fused with some fragments that split off of me from past experiences and so to have those parts of me back with me again is both amazing and intense. These parts of me split off and took certain emotional capabilities with them, and so having these back has been an adjustment too! But overall a good thing. It feels like healing! Even when it’s hard.

Take care anon! I am so glad that your host’s fusion was successful and that my post was helpful to you all!

Cheers to healing!

-Delphine🌹 (she/her)

[aroaceconfessions]

aplatonic people describing their experiences on here (both on this blog and individual posts on their own blogs) have really really helped me with regards to my own questioning. so first of all, a huge thank you to any apl people reading this!!

see the thing is. i am extremely alloplatonic. and i literally never knew! i just thought this was "normal" or "something everyone experiences"! and hearing how some people don't experience this huge attraction that's like one of the biggest parts of my life... like wow. i mean not only am i obviously way more capable of actually being an ally to apl people now that I know they even exist but i feel like i am really actually finally able to understand alloromanticism and allosexuality by extension.

.....and for a long time I thought I was alloromantic, but with this in mind, I think I'm probably both aro-spec and ace-spec. see i know i experience romantic....something. but realizing that I'm alloplatonic has made me realize that i only feel about half of how i would picture a complete alloromantic attraction. it's like my feelings just kind of get stuck, and i feel no real "pull" or feeling of "attraction", just the initial emotional reaction. I don't know what to even call that, so I mostly just use arospec for now— it feels less like a "gray" attraction and more like just. an attraction fragment. a solid half of a full attraction. incomplete. but i think it's enough for me to just know I'm on the spectrum.

i got a bit sidetracked, but basically-- thank you to anyone making posts about your experiences. it means a lot, it helped me a lot personally, and not only that, but now i know to not just assume everyone is alloplatonic (yikes, low bar, but still). now i know that if i'm looking to make friends, i need to be aware that not everyone might be comfortable with platonic pursuit, so now i ask actively if people are interested in making friends or starting a friendship before i start thinking of them as a potential friend. obviously it's not perfect but I think that putting in that effort and awareness matters. and it's only possible because some people put in that work to explain their experiences and spread awareness. so.... i dunno. just wanted to say thank you, and that it really makes a difference.

[copperbadge]

Hi! I hope this isn't too out of left field, but you're one of the fandom creators I've followed the longest (since SGA's heyday,) and one whose work I really enjoy/respect. It seems like fandom as community is kind of... dying? In favour of cash/influence motivated content creation? Do you have any tips on how to contribute to/preserve the community aspects (aside from the brigades/crusades against "insert problematic content here" that seems to band ppl together) of fandom? So much of it seems to just be throwing comments into the ether, and I'm not sure how to contribute.

I've been thinking about this ask for a while, but I don't think I'm any further along towards giving a good answer now than I was a week ago when you sent it.

There are so many aspects to answering this -- not just answering it but answering it as me. I will always be of fandom; I've spent roughly thirty of my forty-three years in fandom. But I haven't had a single specific fandom for a couple of years now. The last time I posted any fanfic of meaningful length was 2020; I've done shortfics since, but mainly for fundraisers and to prompts, and in the meantime worked on my own stuff. Generally, between about fourteen and thirty, I would find a specific canon, write for it for about two years, and then move on to a new canon. Marvel was an exception in that I think I was in it for about eight years, roughly 2012-2020; Good Omens was too in that I left the fandom and came back to it, something I've never done, but even then I wrote a couple of fics in 2020 and not really anything since.

Additionally, I'm, you know, here on Tumblr, I'm not really anywhere else. Fandom is so massive and our experience of it so subjective that it's difficult to say "where" fandom is; it was on livejournal and moved to tumblr but I think realistically since that move it has fractured significantly, to the point where it is spread across tumblr, twitter, tiktok, discord, and dreamwidth. I am on one of those. :D And nobody really knows what percentage of fandom is where. It goes back to the problem of how to define fandom and how to track a generally self-reporting, semi-closed community.

There is, I think, a growing movement to monetize hobbies in general, and separate from that to Create Content rather than just Post Shit. And social media platforms, for the most part, are designed to push specific content, so those capable of "gaming" the algorithm tend to rise to the top and be most visible, and that's a very homogenized set of data, generally speaking. It is the new Mainstream Culture.

But there are two problems with this new mainstream culture: first, it's insanely fragmented compared to ten or twenty years ago. It is possible to put your content out in front of literal millions of people on YouTube and still not be a cultural phenomenon in the way that a TV show with the same viewership would have been on network television in the 1990s, because you're just one of a million options. I knew who all six Friends were even when I didn't watch Friends, but I don't know who the top influencers on YouTube are, because there's like thirty thousand of them and they're all super niche and none of them appeal to my interests, and unlike in the 1990s when I had five TV channels, I have all of the internet I can look at instead.

I say this is a problem, but in many respects it's not -- at least it means alternate viewpoints that don't need to care about network executives or ad revenue are getting out there....somewhere. It's merely a problem in that we can no longer really establish a firm idea of where we are, culturally.

The second problem is more germane to us: fandom has always been a counterculture. Fandom is tightly engaged with disrupting the narrative of dominant culture, with telling the stories that dominant culture won't using the products of that culture to do so. Most countercultures eventually either die out or become mainstream, but fandom has proved slippery in that sense because it is always in reaction to established culture. When part of fandom becomes mainstream, the rest shrugs and moves on. The first time we've really seen that shift is in the monetization of things like gaming and nerd culture, which is a pretty recent phenomenon.

But I don't know what the extent is. I would imagine these days it's harder to find the real weird gritty countercultural stuff, because the "friendly" neutered nerd content gets pushed to the top, but I feel like once you've got an in, you can find the rest of it. So I don't know if it's that fandom is dying, it's just being split into two halves: the very visible dominant-culture-friendly stuff and the less marketable and thus harder-to-find countercultural stuff. And in any case I'm not super qualified to talk about that split because I don't honestly see it that often. I know it's there, but I'm at a remove from it because of my particular status in fandom as a long-term, well-known fan with a relatively large following. (Relative to the norm. Relative to like, anyone on tiktok, I'm nobody.) So my vision of fandom is eternally skewed by the fact that I'm the Spiders Georg of fandom.

So I don't really have any answers because I don't even properly have my arms around the problem. I'm not sure anyone does, or knows the size or severity of it, whether it's a non-issue or a major one. I'm not sure anyone can. Fandom is huge and weird and invisible and hard to predict. And that's okay; part of what makes us fandom is our ability to adapt and integrate and make things our own, so we just...keep doing that in the best way we're able, I think, and trust the rest will figure itself out and present itself to us as either a fun new opportunity or a problem to be solved.

[vishnavishivaa]

Komala (Chapter 1- A Conversation)

The much anticipated Vanathi-Nandini confrontation is here. 

Link to previous part: https://www.tumblr.com/thatacademic/716584149828452352/and-i-am-back-with-another-new-story-but-this-is?source=share

*****************

Silence prevailed after Nandini entered Vanathi’s chambers, though the latter felt like she was inviting someone capable of hurting her deeply within her safe space. And yet, that little voice in her mind told her, be kind to this beautiful Queen, and her strike will not be as hard as you think it would be. 

“Vanangugiren, Ilaya Rani,” she repeated herself, chiding herself internally for being repetitive. This was not the grace she usually had, nor was it the poise she herself was capable of. She really needed to learn to be on guard at the flash of a second. 

“Kodumbalur Kula vilakke, the hopeful future Queen of the Chozhas,” Nandini responded smoothly, her eyes calm and watching every move Vanathi made. Though she knew she was watching the latter as a leopard does its prey, Nandini felt a shining tigress within the Princess of Kodumbalur, who was well known for her incredibly kind heart and gentle smiles.  

“Devi, please do not give me titles that are not mine by birth right,” Vanathi said politely, refusing to shutter under the now gleaming eyes of the Pazhuvur Raani. She knew the Queen’s tactics well by now, and she would not submit. 

“They will be yours once you marry Ponniyin Selvan, will they not?” Nandini responded, surprised to see the flash in the demure girl’s eyes. 

“I do not think I will be marrying him, thank you for asking, Devi,” the still polite Vanathi replied, her head held high, eyes holding fragments of her shattered heart clearly, and Nandini frowned mildly. 

“Oh? So the rumours about him and that boat girl are true?” Nandini could not help but feel the pain of this young girl, too pure and innocent for the cruelty of the world, and yet braving it through; a warrior amidst the worst battlefield. 

“How does it matter, Raani?” Vanathi asked, suddenly looking like she despaired everything, even life. 

“Does it not? The entire Chozha Nadu is hoping for your marriage with Ponniyin Selvan, and him going back on the promise that has been made is an insult to the Irukkavel clan, Ilavarasi. Do you not see it?” Nandini responded, taken aback by the sudden flames that Vanathi’s orbs had become. 

“I will not find fault with him, Devi. It is not possible for me to. I understand that he is the SuryaKula Manikkam, and I am but an orphan Princess,” Vanathi responded. “But I will not allow fault to be thrown at his feet.”

Nandini stared at the young girl, who declared herself as an orphan Princess, who would not hear any injustice against Ponniyin Selvan. And it was this light that he was ignoring? Were all men so thick headed, Nandini wondered, her mind flashing to the elder brother of Ponniyin Selvan, who had crushed her heart mercilessly. 

“Life is not kind to you, Ilavarasi,” Nandini smiled lightly. “And it seems that the son of Kaveri, the one who is famed for his compassion, seems to carry none for you.”

“Devi, please,” Vanathi brought her hands up to her ears, unable to hear such minute diatribe against her chosen Lord. Her eyes were aflame like lightning, her ears containing golden earrings shaped like Lotuses, and strangely, Nandini suddenly felt herself reminded of Bhagavan Krishna’s Queens with Vanathi’s demeanor.

“How do you tolerate it, Ilavarasi?” she asked gently, as if searching for answers in Vanathi’s behaviour, in her body language, in her eyes, her heart. 

“My love does not change whether his love is present or not, Devi. My love is for him solely, and if he doesn't love me, then it is the misfortune of this orphan, Ilaya Rani,” Vanathi smiled, a broken, broken thing, though the golden shine of her skin seemed to overpower everything suddenly. 

“You… you shield yourself by accepting your situation as an orphan,” Nandini realized, able to appreciate the way the Princess, often seen as timid, carried herself. Maybe Vanathi rarely used her words, especially with Kundavai around to protect her, but she had studied and learned well. And used her words in such an honest, polite way. Nandini could not help but be moved, for this kindness was rare in this political world of Kingdoms and royalty. 

“I am just being truthful, Devi.”

“And it is you that Ponniyin Selvar does not appreciate? You, who are like the lightning that flashes amidst the rain clouds? The stunning light of the Velar clan, the beloved and approved companion of the Ilaya Piratti, and it is you he does not appreciate?” 

Nandini’s voice turned silvery, gentle and calm, as if trying to get Vanathi to look at her point of view. Vanathi stiffened, watching Nandini very carefully. 

“Tell me, Ilavarasi, does it not hurt that Ponniyin Selvan does not care for you the way you deserve to be cared for?” Nandini’s words seemed like the strike of a cobra, but the pain that she hid mostly successfully was visible to Vanathi’s eyes, as she looked at the Pazhuvoor Queen. 

“It does hurt, Raani, but that is my problem, is it not? Despite the insistence of the elders, I will not make Ponniyin Selvar do anything he does not want to. Nor do I want him to think of me as someone foisted on him.”

“But should he not know the pain you feel? To see the error of his ways?” Nandini responded, though astonishment rang through her at the powerful words of the supposedly naive Princess of Kodumbalur. 

“Devi,” Vanathi said softly. “I pray that he never feels the pain I do, with all that I am.”

Nandini just looked at Vanathi, deep and hard, the latter calm in that moment for some reason.

“As a woman who has been hurt, Devi,” Vanathi continued, suddenly plucking the courage from nowhere. “I can guarantee that none would want the hurt they face to be rained on another, even if they think they do.”

Nandini let out a gasp, almost doubling over as if a force had shattered through her and rung in her head. Vanathi quickly moved to hold the Queen by the arms, seating her on the settee, making sure that Nandini was okay. She moved to fetch water, when the petal-like hand of Nandini stopped her. 

“No need, Ilavarasi. I need to go,” she stood up, though looking visibly shaken, an expression Vanathi had never before seen on the face of the Queen. “Lest Ilaya Piratti finds out that I have been here in your chambers.”

“I am already here, Ilaya Rani.”

****************

@vibishalakshman It is hereeee, and for you! 

@thelekhikawrites @rang-lo @hollogramhallucination @chiyaanvikram @dumdaradumdaradum @thegleamingmoon @yehsahihai @kovaipaavai @whippersnappersbookworm @nspwriteups @dr-scribbler @ragalata @willkatfanfromasia Please do let me know your thoughts!

[ecargmura]

Pandora Hearts Volume 4 Review

And this volume is the start of the Cheshire Cat arc. It’s where one of Alice’s memories is and Break plays a part in this arc too. This arc introduces lots of world building and a very important character: Jack Vessalius. I’m just warning you: pay CLOSE attention to Jack because he is a VERY important character.

The fourteenth chapter is more of a fun one as Gilbert lost his hat and they have to win it back via arm wrestle. I don’t remember if Oscar was in the anime in that particular scene; I remember the arm wrestle part being there, however. Despite that, it was a nice comedic moment before the angst that is the Cheshire Cat arc. I also liked the reunion between Oz, Gil and Uncle Oscar. Oscar is the father Oz should’ve had. I do feel bad for Alice when she saw them hugging because she doesn’t remember if she had such warmth.

The Cheshire Cat arc is quite interesting. I actually think the Cheshire Cat is a bit of an underrated and forgotten character because of how early he showed up and then was gone. He’s very loyal to the Intention of the Abyss as he is protecting a memory that he doesn’t want Alice to retrieve. The fact that this arc actually starts so suddenly is really nice. I liked the surprise factor in which Break and Alice get caught up in Cheshire’s dimension and then Sharon had to be the one to guide Oz and Gil to where they are. Cheshire as a character is a bit of a parallel to Oz in a way. I’d like to say why but it’s major spoilers for those who haven’t read through the whole thing, so I won’t say it until we get to that part.

I do like seeing everyone in on the action here. Break shows off his capabilities despite being at a disadvantage at first. His chain is Mad Hatter. Sharon shows off her chain’s power too. I’m not sure if there was a horse in the original Alice in Wonderland story, but Equus is still cool nonetheless. Cheshire himself is pretty cool with being the first majorly dangerous foe. His dimensions are full of tricks and illusions and he’s bent on killing Alice to protect the Intention of the Abyss. Gilbert, although was a bit useless at first due to his phobia of cats, still did help out later on. The twist that Alice tore up her own memories got to me. Rereading this is pretty much masochism at this point. I am a confirmed masochist!

And this is the arc where Jack makes his debut. Oh, Jack. He’s very mysterious. He looks like an adult Oz but with a long braid. He’s here to help Alice, but cannot do much as he is only a fragment and needs Oz’s help. He’s the one trying to give Oz resolve to realize what Alice means to him.

In terms of world building, there are two opposing factions. One is Pandora, the organization Break is a part of and the other is the Baskervilles, the ones who crashed the coming of age ceremony and the protectors of a fifth door. I’d like to explain all of this but it does contain major spoilers for future events so my lips are sealed until then.

I just realized that rereading Pandora Hearts really does tie every future event together now that I think about it. I’ve been concealing everything important because some plot points shown here are revealed in the future. Man, this arc really was important. Why did I forget about it? My only gripe was that I didn’t make a “Ore no na wa JACK” joke when I posted the picture below on Twitter. He was the perfect character to use that quote on (It’s from Daily Lives of High School Boys). Anyways, if you have read this volume or know of the major spoilers, how did you feel about the story so far?

[void-rainbow]

It's 6 am and I haven't slept; time for some Collector headcanons

Mostly about the workings of its mind

(let's see if I complete this or sleep first)

The kingsmoulds are made from void and spells. The void itself, as the sea in the Abyss, has something like mind, but fragmented. Echoes of thought, ununified, from the original sources of that void, and any subsequent influences upon it. When the Pale King molded void into a body, there was nothing in particular to make the void a single coherent mind. Such a thing was part of the spells put upon it.

The spells were never meant to give it a true mind. The Pale King didn't expect such a thing from void. He only expected for it to function according to orders, and that took some doing. Spells to make it able to process language, understand orders, have a base knowledge of things it might need to know, the ability to fight and other functions of a guard, etc. All things for an unthinking construct.

At first this would be the dominant part of it, just a bundle of spells for a mind, leaving it aware but pretty blank. But the void was always capable of thought. With the spells as a helpful scaffold, the void of its being could form a more coherent, unified mind.

The kingsmould who would become the Collector has always had adult-level cognitive ability. But it's still not like a "normal" adult. Adulthood would typically imply having a childhood beforehand...something not really available for a construct. It does not have anywhere near the level of experience of an adult, and is lacking a lot of knowledge of the world too.

It gained some experience in the palace, in a limited fashion. Mostly in observation.

It did a fair amount of thinking too, as it gained experience. Even though my Collector doesn't....doesn't really reflect as much as it should XD It had the time to think. Time to think that its role as a kingsmould was not well-suited for what was most important to it.

My Collector was something of an experiment by the Pale King in kingsmould design. (Thought at first to make it the first kingsmould, but for my fic at least...fits better in the timeline to be some later design modification). Rather than being made with "SERVE" as the most primary command on it, imparted in the spells at its creation, it was imbued with "PROTECT"...and thus, it assesses everything around it with this in mind.

It left the palace. No great deliberation on consequences--the moment it decided the palace could not fit its role as protector, it just left.

I've wondered if perhaps other kingsmoulds could do so. Could they ever break away from their role? With "SERVE" imprinted on them, it would be very hard to do so. Perhaps only if their role became impossible for some reason. And even then, they may try to fall into a similar role if possible.

The Collector was able to leave and gain more experiences. But it had never really had to make any choices or figure things out. It. Makes a lot of mistakes. Still. It's able to learn.

And more than that, it's able to develop as a person. It always had emotions. But emotions confused it. Unlike someone like hollow though, it never had any reason to suppress emotions. So it will learn.

In all this, the Collector is rather lucky when compared to the other kingsmoulds. The kingsmoulds have minds and emotions. But with such limited life experience (and again, the overwhelming drive to serve)...they are a bit mentally weaker in some senses. Not for lacking a mind, but...mmm.

The spells never leave the Collector. It is always driven to protect. But the more experiences it gets, the stronger its mind becomes. It does not fight the great drive it has. But it's able to choose how to go about it. Go beyond whatever simple form of protection someone without choices would make, or what kind of protection the Pale King had in mind for it in the first place. Even if the Collector makes some really questionable choices. It also learns about what others need, and learns to...understand its own needs better. As a person. Learns about emotions. Learns what love means. It becomes able to incorporate these things into what protection means to it and alter its outlook.

All that is not something afforded the other kingsmoulds. Their lives are not conducive to learning other ways to serve. They are not given room to develop themselves.

I've wondered if perhaps the spells could ever be removed from the Collector. Though I don't think so. Even if its mind became strong enough to persist, its body could not. It would likely just die. And modification of the spells would take a lot of knowledge on someone's part with high risk of failure.

It will always be driven to protect. But that's okay to it.

I've been developing my fic, which has. Uh. Inadvertently become a bit of a fix-it au. But for something more canon...

The world is still falling apart, with the infection. It's bad for anyone's mental health. For the Collector, in some ways it never has to become more "normal", as society is crumbling around it. It doesn't have to worry about fitting in. It also doesn't have to rein in some of its worse impulses.

And yes...by the time we see Collector in the game, it's been a very very long time. It's had to deal with death, and isolation, and betrayal (being locked in the Tower of Love ._.), and failure. It's not doing so well. It's not coping. It doesn't know how to fix things.

It tries to stay strong, in its own way. It tries to keep loving. And it does. But it doesn't really have anyone else to help with its emotions. And it's just slowly breaking down. Just laugh away all the stress. (It can't ever laugh enough for that)

Even when the world and its life were in better times, it would always come off as weird and obsessed. Mmm, still seeing how my fic will turn out in the end. But some things are consistent.

(but as far as endings....hey, I did make it without falling asleep) (now to succumb)