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ilium-ilia · 22 days ago

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Chaînés

ballerina reader x gym-rat soap

It's hard for Johnny to focus at the gym when there's a ballerina spinning in a box just for him.

tags: johnny "came back wrong" mactavish, light stalking, non-consensual pictures/drawings, johnny is not mentally sound, references to johnny being shot, choke holds, abduction.

a/n: i keep having dreams about being back in ballet and being forced to dance so i this is my attempt of getting that dream to stop.

There is a new room in the gym. It stares through Johnny like baptism water in the church he attended when he was a child. It burns just as bad as the hellfire his pastor promised would befall him if he couldn’t tell the difference between good and evil.

He’s watched its construction for the last handful of weeks. Incessant drilling and the cacophonous melody of power tools has made his evenings pumping iron less than pleasant, and his ears ache from how far he has to shove his earbuds into the canal to drown out the noise. The only reason he started coming here was because of his sleeping issues—how his body seems too high strung to relax when the moon rises—and it’s been disrupted by inconsiderate construction workers. Now, every bastard in a high-vis vest has vanished, leaving him alone with nothing but the bar clasped in his palms and the lingering sillage of sawdust.

For a few more weeks, the room stands empty. It’s nothing special. Nothing that he believes should harbor more of his attention than has already been stolen. Floor to ceiling glass windows offer little privacy for the pinewood floors and dazzling mirrors that line the walls. It is an abandoned box. It haunts the gym with no heart to hold.

When no one is looking, he wanders through the unlocked door. He is met with only the sound of his running shoes echoing off of the pristine floor and the never-ending image of himself pasted upon the walls. He sees himself from every angle. From the side, like a bystander. From above, like an omniscient god. It only gets worse when the automatic lights trip and flicker to life, buzzing like the dying breath of an animal caught in the constricting ribcage of fear.

Johnny stares at himself as if he were a stranger. He scrutinizes the tattoo on his forearm and the stretch of his compression shorts over his thighs. Angry fingernails dig into the pink keloid by his temple. His skin buzzes at the bump. Hair follicles attempt to press through the scar tissue, but it follows the old fracturing of his skull. It dies in a star pattern that leaves him naked—a warrior without a weapon.

As his feet cross the threshold back into the weight room, Johnny promises himself he will never traverse back into that box again.

On Monday, the room is full.

Women clad in elastic garments sprawl out on the floor on multicolored mats as they stretch. Their appearance stops Johnny in his tracks, leaving him to stare through the thin window that separates them apart. Yoga, he realizes. The awkward positions and instructor towards the front has his skin squirming within its own confines. There are too many eyes. They echo through the mirror—they all find him.

Deciding to spend his evening on the other side of the gym, Johnny starts off with cardio. It’s the only way he can satiate the need to flee from wandering gazes without actually vanishing. It’s the only way he can drown out the solicitude that lurks too deep for him to reach in and claw it out.

Peeved that he has to now change his whole routine, Johnny grumples through the night as he packs up his water bottle and slugs towards the exit. As his feet tread, he reminds himself to request the class schedule for the room from the front desk. He wants to avoid the eyes. The gazes. The pupils that pierce through him worse than a bullet.

Johnny freezes when he sees something spinning.

There, through the thin veil, you dance. Rhythmic and fluid. Like a babbling river. Like blood dribbling from a wound. Propped up en pointe, you pirouette with your arms above your head and your head snapping in spinning circles, eyes keeping contact with yourself through the mirror. He witnesses the way your chest expands with a huff—how you refuse to rest before attempting the move again.

You see him in the mirror. Standing behind you, pack slung over his shoulder as if it were heavy enough to be a rifle. He sees you see him.

Ignoring him as if he is nothing more than a trick of the light, you continue with your practice.

Johnny can’t sleep at night. The image of you burns too deeply into his retinas, and he can’t shake you loose. You’re lodged in his psyche. Trapped deep in the tissue of his brain where you nettle—making space for yourself. A bed of brain matter. He envelopes you too readily. His body holds you home and it screeches whenever he attempts to yank you out like a weed from the earth.

So you spin.

And spin.

The next time he goes to the gym, he brings his sketchbook.

Really, he’s not sure why he lugs the thing around. The only thing it’s full of is pain—bleeding ink that soaks each page like blood on cement. That book harbors the residue of each gun he’s shot and the soil of every country his boots have kissed. It holds the memories of the places he can’t return to. The man he used to be before he was fractured beyond repair.

Now, he uses it to record you. Committing your image with his pencil, he sits on the bench press closest to the window as you practice again while the night waxes away from the evening. He sketches the curve of your pointe shoes, the delicacy of your fingers as you hold your arms out on either side of your torso—you’re printed onto paper as you present an arabesque with trembling calves and quads.

Throughout it all, you do not recognize him in the mirror behind you. You give him no hint that you are aware of his presence besides a quiet flickering of your eyes in the reflective surface before you continue to glissade across glistening floors.

It isn’t until the second week of this—of this new routine Johnny has found himself in—that he realizes he never sees you enter or exit the room.

You’re always there, appearing out of thin air the moment the area is vacated by the yoga class or anyone else who wishes to lurk within those four, painful walls. He blinks, and you’re there, dancing through the windows like a collector’s doll stuck in the confines of her box for all of eternity. Never to be embraced. Never to be loved. Only made to be gawked at while chained down by your hands and wrists, unforgiving zip ties digging into your skin like a honed edge.

It’s then that Johnny begins to question if he’s seeing things again. Factitious things. After he was discharged (bullet buzz, buzz, buzzing through his skull, cold cement on his cheek, blood, drip, drip, dripping from his teeth), it was troubling to differentiate between what was real, and what was fabricated. Thoughts bleeding into reality—a clear ichor that only morphs his vision, but doesn’t obscure it.

At home, his fingers brush over his artwork. Tenderly, as if he’s pasted your very flesh onto each page. He tells himself that you have to be real. The proof of it is in his very hands—it’s tangible. This book that holds your likeness. It would be impossible for his disconnected mind to dream up something as lovely as you. There is no morphing here. No shadows twist to contort and confuse his mind.

He’s sure of it—

—until he isn’t.

Once more, his sweet ballerina has come to perform for him—to haunt him. You spin before him like a music box doll, steady and without a care for the eyes piercing through the window to look at you. There is not a single soul in the building besides you and him. (If you even have a soul at all). The barrier that separates the two of you seems thinner than ever as he puts pencil to paper and inscribes your likeness as if he fears his mind might forget if there is no physical reminder to follow him home.

He soaks up the view of your feet. The way the arch curves beneath your body weight. The way sweat beads along your collarbones and the line of your forehead. He wonders if the brine is as tasty as it looks.

When you stop to catch your breath, your eyes find Johnny in the mirror. Sitting, hunched forward on the bench, scribbling down in his journal. His heart ceases to beat, and the tip of his pencil stills against his paper as he straightens himself up. He would open his mouth to speak if it weren’t for the insufferable barrier that separates the two of you—keeping you confined to your own little worlds. Instead, he smiles.

You stare right through him.

You do not smile back.

Johnny is incensed when you continue your routine. You leap through the air without a care in the world, and you leave him sitting there to wonder if you ever even saw him at all. No, you did. When he reaches up and touches his chest, he feels his shirt. He feels the blood pulsing beneath his fingertips. His hand presses forward and it doesn’t punch through his sternum because he’s real.

He’s real.

But are you real? Or are you some creature sent to torment him within the confines of his own mind?

Slamming his journal shut, Johnny tosses it into his bag with a huff. Hot air passes from his nostrils like a bull ready to charge, and he struts up to the glass, so close that his nose nearly presses against it. Fog builds on the surface as his palm lies flat against it. It’s frigid to the touch. Standing, separating. The barrier that traps you is real and algid beneath his fingers.

But are you real?

Metal bites into his skin as he twists the knob on the door to the room. He promised himself that he would never step foot in there again—where the eyes are plenty and his scar screams louder than he can—but he tells himself he has to know. It clicks quietly shut behind him only to be drowned out by the sound of your pointe shoes tapping against the pine at your feet. It echoes like a hushed prayer. It rattles his eardrum. Tangible. Real.

But are you real?

Feverish skin bleeds through his hand when he grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks. Wild eyes look to him, and for the first time he’s able to see what they’re like without the barrier of a reflection to get in the way. Sweet lips part and he sees the way your teeth shine beneath the fluorescent lights that hang over your heads.

“Excuse me?”

Bitter. Sharp. Your question pierces through his eardrum and he smiles. Your voice. An alluring melody. His grip only grows more firm as you attempt to wrench yourself free from his grasp.

Real.

Your screams are just as corporeal as the rest of you. It reverberates off the walls of Johnny’s skull, and it forces his face to contort at the throb in his brain. Oh, how it aches. How it always aches. He muffles you with the palm of his hand flat against your lips and he presses until he feels your tongue. Rigid nails dig into his flesh as his forearm wraps around your throat and squeezes. He feels the sting of broken skin—real—and the pressure of dull teeth against his fingers—real—and hot tears along the back of his hand—real.

It isn’t long before your body grows heavy. Johnny lays you on the floor like Ophelia in a river; Odette in the lake; Aurora in her bed. Limp limbs lie helplessly as he stares down at you and rakes trembling fingers over every inch of your body. Every curve he has committed to memory for the last few weeks is now here before him—tangible.

“Real,” he says outloud. A tender thumb brushes against your split bottom lip. “You’re real. And I’m real. I made you real.”

Johnny sleeps better now that he’s started going to the gym. Muscles melt just as they should the very moment his head hits his pillow, and his slumber calls to him without issue. Of course, it helps that he has his sweet ballerina to keep him company. Head propped up next to his, tear stains on your cheeks, and eyes squeezed tight as you rest soundly in his bed.

He reaches out and cups your cheek in the palm of his hand. Your skin twitches beneath him, but you do not stir. Grinning in the darkness of his bedroom, Johnny hums, content with his life. Content with knowing that you truly are real.

After all, the proof of it is in his very hands.

#ilium writing #jm ilia #female reader #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x reader

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cool-island-songs · 5 months ago

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Analysis of ALNST Character Relationship Metrics

My art book won't be here for a minute, but I ran some screenshots I saw on twt through an image translator and have a lot of thoughts:

TILL: Despite claiming to hate everyone in the world, Till ranks Ivan at 70% intimacy even as he identifies perturbing behaviors of Ivan's going back years and refers to him as "a bother". He also ranks Sua at 10% in spite of having little to say about her and finding it uncomfortable to be around her.

Though he postures at being misanthropic and has all the manners you'd expect of a boy who was half off at the human child pound, he's actually quite gentle and sensitive. This is reflected in one of the graduation messages he's left by a classmate as well:

The person he feels closest to is an unattainable crush, and someone who doesn't feel that close with him in return, likely because he's too shy to really approach her or carry on a conversation.

MIZI: That's Mizi, of course, who's rather childlike and naive initially. She likes everyone, but since Till chokes when he tries to speak to her and often keeps his distance, she wonders if he's avoiding her because he dislikes her.

Mizi gravitates towards people who she sees as "perfect", which is how she describes Ivan and Sua in her graduation message to Ivan:

She doesn't see the darker side of Ivan's personality (which has been described on several occasions, even by himself, as "twisted") because he's attractive, successful, and helpful to her.

Though she likes everyone, Sua is her "God", and the only thing that can keep them apart is the tragedy of their situation, which forces Mizi to grow up in a brutally painful way.

SUA: Sua is far less idealistic and naive than Mizi, and has clearly thought about sacrificing herself to save Mizi, since Ivan picks on her for thinking of doing so in an official comic. Accordingly, her feelings about Mizi are far more tinged by the knowledge that they will one day be torn apart by external circumstances. She laments that reciprocating her feelings will one day cause Mizi great pain.

She's always been more somber, and despite her surface similarities to Ivan (which he notes in a follow-up comic wherein he realizes he was wrong about Sua's feelings for Mizi being unrequited), she's quite different on the inside. Sua's more sensitive and thus her colder exterior serves to protect her, whereas Ivan's outward persona creates an illusion of normalcy that doesn't reflect his reality.

Sua views Ivan and Till as a threat and a nuisance, respectively. Like Till, she senses something strange about Ivan, and when it comes to Till, it's just one person too many around for her. This is fascinating to me, because I thought she might pity Till! Her feelings about Ivan were already pretty clear from this panel of the 'piggyback' comic, and she seems deeply hurt in the first comic linked by his prodding.

IVAN: For his part, Ivan is fascinated by Till even though he's content to sit back and observe, pestering him to get a reaction or his attention for a brief time. He doesn't expect anything in return but wants more than anything to be on Till's mind (hence behaviors like stealing Till's belongings and returning them to him, pretending he had found them).

He prefers Sua to Mizi despite his awareness that Sua doesn't particularly like him, seeing her as a sister and even telling her she's "twisted" like he is. He likes Mizi well enough, especially her sincerity, but seems to find her optimism a bit much at times.

The fact that Mizi and the others would likely consider Ivan and Mizi quite close while Ivan does not reflects how much he postures even in his closest relationships. He struggles to connect with those he's most compelled by and it's not clear if he really wants to.

Some Ivantill thoughts before I go:

There seems to be a common sentiment that it's tragic Till was unable to see how much Ivan loved him, and I think we'll likely get more of Till's perspective on Ivan and their relationship in round 7. But it may not be the case that Ivan even wanted his true feelings to be seen, or would have known what to do if Till had reciprocated them.

There's something almost voyeuristic and self-negating in his feelings for Till (see: "I can’t reach you, so I imagine alone/You who shines, I stand next to you" from 'Black Sorrow'). He has far more self-awareness and willingness to accept things as they are than Till, who doesn't see that Mizi only has eyes for Sua and who would likely struggle to accept that reality.

Ivan, on the other hand, is well aware that his feelings for Till are "shallow", a bright fantasy to get him through his dark reality, and he seems to sincerely believe that his death won't scar Till because he's never really broken through to him. He's a schemer, and comments he makes in his graduation message to Till and the interview he gives in advance of round 6 suggest that he may have been planning to sacrifice himself for some time.

Part of me wonders if he hoped it would leave a mark on Till. Choking, kissing, and violently sacrificing oneself are all aggressive, forward acts, especially from someone who used to toy with people to get his kicks but was otherwise quite passive and unfeeling.

There are a lot of parallels in the one-sided loves, like Till acting out of his usual character for Mizi, and Ivan doing the same because of Till, putting all hopes of being saved in something just out of reach, staying in chains for that one special person. But Ivan's psychology is quite different from Till's, and in fact closest to Luka's re: low or no empathy. Both Ivan and Till are significantly traumatized by their upbringings but Ivan's difficult early life in the slums and his experience being dangled off that rooftop seem to have damaged his ability to connect to others or feel much of anything.

Till is the first person for whom he feels anything while for Till, Mizi is an early crush he puts on a pedestal in a much more commonplace way. I think the shared trauma of competing on that stage makes it much more difficult for either of them to imagine moving on, but Ivan is not wrong in identifying that he won't find that feeling again.

The thing that intrigues me most about this series is the way the contestants' differences play out, particularly with regard to how they view love and how they respond to their individual and shared challenges. I'd love to get into it further another time but this is quite long already so thanks for sticking with it if any have (haha)

#alnst #alien stage #character analysis #ivantill #mizisua #alnst ivan #alnst till #alnst mizi #alnst sua

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deathbxnny · 10 months ago

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Alrighty cool, thank you for clearing that up (and in such a timely manner too)!

So, lemme cook here... with some Angst + Hurt/Comfort >:D

Arlecchino with a Fem!S/O who's the "Mother" to the children of the House. She was among the survivors of the previous Knave's regime over the House of Hearth. With her and Arle having had perhaps a kind of mutual crush that was only truly pursued after Arle killed "mother".

Basically, the scenario for the request is when Arlecchino' and her's S/O are taking care of one of the kids of the House after they're badly injured after a mission, and... needles to say... they don't make it. And during when Arle and S/O are visiting the kid's grave to pay their respect's, S/O begins to muse "you'd think I'd be used to having to bury children, after..." before starting to break down.

(Part two) (Part Three) (Part four) (Part five)

Ooooh, I love your brain, Anon!! Thank you so much for this great request!! I have to admit that whilst writing this, I actually liked the idea of making this super angsty and kind of bitter (like most of my fics lmao-) so I hope you like it despite the lack of comfort anyway-

Content: Heavy angst, vague mentions of past child abuse, murder, death, reader is Female and referred to as "Mother/wife", mentions of heavy injuries and blood, controlling behavior from/ooc Arlecchino?, kind of bitter ending, children dying, grief Reader has she/her pronouns ((Not proofread!!!))

Buried angels and that odd wish to live. (Arlecchino x Fem!Reader)

In a way, you often wondered why the young ones often wished to live when they knew that their end was nearing. Their eyes would widen, breaths becoming sharper and shorter, mouths closing and opening in panic before they'd whisper those words you had heard so many times. Their deaths always followed closely after, eyes dimming, their soul finally disappearing with the blown out candles, the sweet scent mingling with the smell of blood and burnt flesh. In the light of the moon filtering through an open window, you'd see the grim reaper staring at you in mirrors and your crimson stained palms, a thoughtful look on her face, one asking a simple question she might forever ask you.

"What did you expect?"

And you'd reply by looking away from your own image, away from the guilt and self-doubt and into the eyes of the woman who made all these children utter that odd wish in the first place.

Your hands shook, held up high as you peered into the crime of a mother who couldn't save her child, raised as though pleading for the forgivness of a god that was mightier than the one you worked for. One that was less cruel, despite the heart everyone claimed she had. And yet, they were enveloped by a towel instead, that wiped away the sins and hurt, even if just for a moment. "There is... nothing we could have done to save her, Mother." Lyney whispered quietly to you, perhaps afraid of being too loud and disturbing someone who couldn't even ever bother to hear him anymore. He tried to be reassuring, but it did little when you just couldn't look away from your wife.

Arlecchino. The Knave. A highly ranked harbinger, whose heart always belonged to you from the start, although with great difficulties that took you years to overcome.

The first time she made you stain your hands with blood was when she killed the woman that raised you two, the first and only woman you ever called "Mother." Although the gentleness and nurturing part of her title was just a simple facade, it still shaped you both greately. You had sworn to do better, to become a better mother to all the children you both took in after marriage and Arlecchino... she seemed to have trned against that title. She believed that being a "father" was more fitting. The right way to raise the children of the Hearth family. Cold and detached, yet firm and guiding.

It made you opposites at times. Painfully different opposites. You became a secret haven of safety for the children, a place they can hide away in, whenever their "Father's" wrath came after them. And you've fought so hard to be this gentle. You killed, murdered, slaughtered your way out of fate. You dragged yourself out of hell, you bled, you cried endless tears. You wanted to prove that you could do better and you ultimately did now... or so you thought. You began doubting it years ago, and it's what made you find their wish to live so odd. Was it an instinct, or did they actually view their life's with you two as desirable, something to live for, when all they did in the end was suffer?

"Mother." Lyney said again, this time a little louder, this time enough to make you glance up at him. His face was a blurry shadow, the light falling over his shoulders and illuminating his head like a halo, as he pushed the towel rather hastily into a nearby laundry basket. You'd never get the stains out, and so it would most likely be thrown away, perhaps burried with the young girl. "Let's... get you cleaned up, okay? I... we will take care of the rest." The change in his wording made you press your lips together. It wasn't anyone's job to do this except your own, and for a moment, you imagined yourself curling up next to the child that died crying and begging for you to save it.

You stood up only barely on shaking knees, trembling hand reaching out to close the small girls eyes, and you could feel the cold tears and skin stinging your palm. "It is alright, Lyney. Your father and I will take care of her ourselves..." You looked over your shoulder at the woman who had yet to move or say anything ever since she silently entered the room a while ago. You could see the cold glint of her eyes in the dark, her face otherwise covered by the shadows as she sat calmy and collected in her chair. She knew it was over the moment the girl was brought in by a couple of Fatui agents, th failure of her mission being crystal clear by the deep wounds and burns on her body. She never stood a chance. She wasn't experienced enough, not skilled enough. But the weak get eaten, as the Knave would often say.

Lyney gave you a hesitant look, his mouth opening to protest before he stilled at his Father crossing his legs expectantly. He understood the silent order. "... Ofcourse, Mother. Call my name if there is anything I can do for you." He said, a hand on his chest as he bowed before quickly taking his leave. When the door creaked open, you could have sworn to see the flickers of Lynette and Freminet staring back at you solemnly before they disappeared in the presence of their brother. You stared at the closed door for an unknown while, nearly zoning out, until you let out a shaky sigh. "Make her grave beautiful, perhaps with a blue ribbon attached to it. She loved those." You muttered, the exhaustion finally hitting you full force and making you feel faint. Your body felt heavy, feet dragging across the floor as you also made your exit, the only awknowledgement you received being in the form of the woman leaning her head against her palm idly whilst she closed those cursed eyes of hers.

---

There wasn't much of a funeral for the child.

A couple Fatui agents simply made a hole in the ground like they did with all the others and then lowered the small casket into it, before tossing dirt back in until it disappeared and only the stone with her was left as proof that the child ever even existed. It was a routine at this point, one everyone was used to. Everyone but you. Perhaps the years had made you soft. Perhaps the love and gentleness you gave these children had made you weak. But here you were, standing under the rain and staring at the grave for hours now, unmoving. The water had drenched through your clothes, ran down your face, made you shiver from the cold, despite feeling too numb to fully realise that. Arlecchino stood at your side, an umbrella laying in the wet dirt by her heeled feet from when you pushed it out of her hands and away from you defiantly.

The silence was deafening, filled with the constant tapping of water against your clothes, the metal on the Knave's uniform, and the stone of the sea of graves around you. "How many..." You whispered weakly, trying to form words through incoherent thoughts and the lack of sleep you've had lately. "... do I have to see die before it's enough?" Arlecchino said nothing, and you were nearly convinced that she didn't hear you if it wasn't for her hand twitching.

You let out a disbelieving laugh, a hand covering your face, trying to ease the pain that plagued you deeply. "You'd think that I'd be used to burying children by now... but I... it hurts me." You didn't want to break. In fact, you had never broken before. But as you stood there amongst the many angels that you burried, the many angels that had all once stained your hands red, you began to wonder why you ever even agreed to this. You weren't like your wife. You couldn't be a "Father". You just didn't want to be one.

You buried your face into your hands, imagining the suffocating feeling of their final wish being the same as the pain of strangulation. They reached for the skies and reached for freedom they could only brush shortly with their fingertips before they were covered in dirt to never see what they desperately yearned for again.

"We always took pride in having become something better, different than her... and yet look at us, Peruere! We just became exact copies of her instead! Oh, the shame!" You whispered through strained sobs, voice distorted as you crumbled to the ground in guilt. You had been defeated, and yet Arlecchino still stood so tall, her eyes staring at your shivering and trembling form. She didn't say a word, or perhaps she didn't know what to say. "How many children will you make me stain my hands for?" You asked finally, but the silence told you all.

Peruere loved the children you raised together. But Arlecchino, the Knave, had an objective, a mission. Eat or be eaten, a reality that even hurt her deep down. And yet the curse she had since birth prevented her from feeling it any further than a passing acknowledgement.

"... Stand up, (Y/N). We need to get home... our children await us." She simply responded after your heavy breaths became shallow, and you simply laid there limply at the foot of the grave. But her voice conveyed a certain gentleness she only ever extends to you. It was like the warmth of a summer rain, refreshing and light as it rippled through your heart. With swollen eyes, you watched her reach an ungloved hand out to you, her gaze expectant and yet so unreadable. You felt like a child that powered itself out after a tantrum, the exhaustion and defeat crippling your soul, when you finally just took her hand after what felt like a long moment of consideration.

She hummed a gentle praise against your ear as you slumped against her, face pressed to her shoulder whilst you trembled now from the cold that nipped at your skin through your drenched clothes. Arlecchino wrapped an arm around you, her pensive and yet still so stern gaze drifting through the graveyard filled with those buried angels, as you often called them. Perhaps it was a moment of calm reflection, that made her grab onto your face and wipe away a tear.

"You are nothing like her." And yet, the Knave didn't deny that she might have fallen to her fate herself. Just not you. Never you. "These tears, this hurt you speak of, they are all proof of it. You shed tears for them, for us. Only a good mother could do such a thing." The words she spoke had a deep meaning, one only you two understood, and that made your heart flutter. You looked away, trying your best not to burst into tears again at the tragedy of the situation, but it was so hard when Arlecchino got like this. She only rarely showcased such blatant affection, such blatant declaration of her deep yet rather complicated love for you as her wife. "Please... Let's go home..." You simply whispered, which made her nod in approval.

You gazed up at the skies as you walked away, sunlight beginning to filter through the thick clouds and making you frown bitterly as it warmed your face. Arlecchino's hand meanwhile rested against your back, her watchful eyes gliding across the endless meadows you passed by, and for a moment, she could hear her children laughing, squealing and frolicking through the tall grass. They chased each other in a game of tag, running as fast as they could away from the two of you, over a hill and into what the Knave imagined to be their freedom far from her cold and stern ways. She cracked a bitter smile, one of acceptance as she glanced down at your tired, silently crying and trembling form.

Arlecchino was perhaps wrong after all. Maybe in the end the children did need a loving, nurturing mother instead.

What a shame, that it was too late to go back now.

Alright, so this took me all day to write, and I'm not sure if it's good, because I'm still very sick... but I still hope you liked this, Anon, and thank you again for the request!!!<33

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin arlecchino #genshin arlecchino x reader #arleccino genshin #arlecchino x reader #arlecchino x you #genshin

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indecisiveavocado · 2 months ago

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Hello! You are (probably) wrong about Messianic "Judaism"

You have probably been referred here because you were making some awful arguments about Messianic "Judaism".

That's ok, that's why you're here.

How in depth do you want me to go?

One sentence

Messianic "Jews", "Jews" for Jesus, and other movements like that are not Jewish, they are Christian.

Two sentences

Messianic "Jews", "Jews" for Jesus, and other movements like that are not Jewish, they are Christian. They may sincerely believe they are Jewish, and they may look superficially Jewish, but they are still Christian.

A paragraph

Messianic "Jews" and other movements that claim to be Jewish but believe Jesus was the Messiah are not Jewish. They are Christian. They may sincerely believe that they are Jewish, but that doesn't change it. If I sincerely believe that I am, say, Muslim, that does not make me Muslim. They believe that Jesus was the Messiah, and Judaism does not. They are Christians roleplaying as Jews.

Questions

But there are Jewish athiests!

Yes. But Jewish atheists and agnostics are generally honest about it. Judaism is flexible on the degree of belief in God you need. It is not flexible on Jesus not being the Messiah. (Plus, athiests haven't genocided us for coming up on 2000 years, so they have a degree of goodwill Christians don't have as much of.)

But Chabad--

[Edit: This originally said the group of Chabadniks who think their Rebbe was the Messiah were not Jewish.]

The Chabadniks who think their Rebbe was the Messiah are still Jewish, but Messianics are not. Why?

First, consider degree of departure. Beliefs about the Messiah are important in Judaism, certainly; but not as much as monotheism. Allegedly, one Rabbi in Talmud, Elisha ben Abuya, questioned the monotheistic aspect, and henceforth he was referred to as 'Acher' (Other). The Sh'ma affirms the monotheistic aspect of Judaism. Of Rambam's thirteen principles of faith, one deals with the Messiah. Four deal with monotheism in some way or another. From a Jewish view, Christianity is, at best, questionably monotheistic.

Second, the intent differs. Chabad tries to get nonobservant Jews more observant (even with a few quirks in religious practice). Messianic Christianity tries to pull Jews away from Judaism.

Finally, of course, how widespread the thing is varies. In Chabad, it is a minor group, and certainly not a core tenet. In Messianic Christianity, it is a core tenet of it and indeed a major distinguishing aspect from Jewish denominations.

But they must have some merit! If they didn't believe Jesus was the Messiah--

And if my grandma had wheels, she'd be a wagon.

How can it be this simple?

Christianity (regardless of how much they fight over it) is fundamentally a broad group. It's easily broad enough to include Messianic Christians without blinking.

You're anti-Messianic practices!

I am, yes. I am against the lying and misrepresentation their liturgy, beliefs, etc consist of. I am against the image of Judaism they project. If they stopped pretending to be Jewish (or converted to actual Judaism), I would have no problem with them. But, again: if Grandma had wheels, she'd be a wagon. A fundamental part of Messianic Christianity is pretending to be Jewish by culturally appropriating Jewish practices, which is very sketchy given that Christians have consistently genocided Jews, including forcibly converting us.

Jews: if you see someone insistent Messianic Christianity is Judaism, feel free to direct them here!

#judaism #jewblr #jewish tumblr #jewish #messianics aren't jews #messianic “jews”#messianic christianity #christians for jesus #jumblr #if you core belief is lying & culturally appropriating & pretending to be a minority you have consistently persecuted i will be against you #if grandma had wheels she'd be a wagon sums up messianic christianity/christians for jesus pretty well.

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p1astr81 · 14 days ago

Text

the cove

In which: you and Oscar start your own restaurant, navigating the troubles of the unknown territory and the relationship between you. (au)

pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

warnings: references to sex, no actual smut, use of y/n (once), lots of time jumps, bit of angst, fluff, more plot than romance lowkey

wc: 5.1k

an: I just rewatched the bear and can’t stop thinking about it so here I am

‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ ‧ * ‧₊˚ ‧

Milk crates were flipped upside down, making use of themselves as chairs for you and Oscar to sit on during your break. It was rare you ever saw a break—let alone a collective one—but it was a Wednesday night and the restaurant was seeing few customers.

“God, I smell like oil.” You grimaced.

Oscar laughed, leaving a beat of silence between you before speaking. “We should start our own place.” He suggested, his voice quiet, fearing your reply.

At first, you laughed. A loud, mocking laugh. But his face told you that he was serious. “Come on, Os. Be serious. Where would we get the money? I mean,” you scoffed, “we can hardly get by living off both of our wages.”

Oscar bit his lip, eyeing his polished black shoes. He knew you wouldn’t like his next suggestion. “You could always ask aunt Audrey.”

It was a known fact that your aunt Audrey was loaded with cash. With no kids, a rich husband, and rich herself, how could she not be? But she always offered you money whenever she got the chance. You declined every time. You weren’t going to be her charity work.

You shook your head. “Im not asking her.” You said with finality.

“Why not?! We could make something—be something!” He tried to bargain.

You got to your feet, walking away from him.

“Just think about it. You and me, a brilliant fucking restaurant that we built.”

Head shaking once more, you turned to face him. “I’ll owe her for the rest of my life. Do you realize that?”

He stuttered for an answer.

“I don’t want that.”

Oscar blinked, nodding. “Yeah. It was just a stupid daydream anyway.” He kicked a pile of trash, threw the door open, and disappeared into the kitchen.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Oscar had found sleep long ago, peacefully wiped out beside you.

You struggled to join him in the state. His ambitions plagued your mind. You felt like you were disappointing him with your rejection.

You turned over in bed, facing Oscar now. Even in sleep, you felt guilty about rejecting his proposal. He was so passionate about it.

Being shackled by the debt you’d owe to aunt Audrey was less than a desire for you. The longer you stared at Oscar, though, the less and less you felt bad about it.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Before work the next day, you’d told Oscar you were going out to run some errands. A bold faced lie.

Aunt Audrey answered the door after a long few seconds. It gave you plenty of time to run if you wanted, but the image of Oscar’s disappointed expression flashed in your brain, rooting you to the ground.

“Oh my gosh! I wasn’t expecting you!” She gushed upon opening the door. Her arms were around you in an instant, pulling you into her mansion of a house.

“Hey aunt Audrey,” you greeted.

She detected the way your voice wavered, and decided to ignore it for now. The both of you ended up in the garden, sat around a fire pit. “How are you, love? Has that Oscar asked you out yet?”

You laughed. “No, we’re just friends.”

She cocked her head, eyeing you with a suspicious expression. “That’s what Nick”—her husband—“said about us, too. No we’re married.”

You shook your head, an awkward laugh. “No it’s not like that, I promise.”

“Alright…” she trailed off, the tone of her voice indicating that she didn’t really believe you.

You shifted in your seat. “Well, he’s actually kind of why I’m here.”

Audrey perked up in her seat, brows raising.

“He brought up yesterday—last night, while we were on our break, actually—that, uhm…” you fiddled with your hands in your lap. “well he thinks that we should start our own restaurant.”

“Oh that’s exciting!”

You forced a laugh. “Yeah uhm but, well, neither of us have the funds and I hate to ask you but uhm…” you shifted in your seat once more. “Would you be interested in helping… financially? Uhm, we’ll pay you back in full, along with whatever interest you want to add on, and uh, we can give you some of the profit. Twenty five percent, maybe?”

Audrey smiled. “Of course I’ll help you out! Oh, this is so exciting, I’m so happy you decided to ask me!” She beamed, jumping up to hug you.

“Thank you.” You smiled, though it pained you.

She took up her seat again. “So how much are you thinking? Just so I can make sure I don’t buy too many bags.” It was meant to be a joke, but it made you feel more guilty.

“Well, we’ll need to buy a place first, then all the utilities and equipment and the stuff for the dining room and…” you didn’t realize just how much you’d need from her until now. “You know what, forget about it.” You waived a hand through the air. She frowned “it’s a stupid day dream. Not really realistic now that I’m thinking about it.”

You went to leave, but your aunt grasped hold of your hand. “Hon, I have so much money that’s just sitting around. Please I want you to use it.”

She directed you back to your seat. “It’ll probably be close to a million.”

All she did was nod. “As long as I get to be involved, you can have as much as you want.”

A smile was forced on your face. “Okay. I’ll get someone to write up a contract. Just let me know how much interest you want to put on it, and does 25 percent of the profit sound good?”

She looked at you like you had five heads. “Interest? And a fourth of your profit? Honey, as long as you pay it all back, I’m fine. We don’t need a contract.” She shook her head.

Damn her and her generosity. The guilt weighed heavier on your shoulders with every word she spoke. But who were you to argue with her and risk her withdrawing from the deal.

So you nodded, “okay,” you agreed.

You cant recall a time you ever saw Audrey smile quite so large. “How about some lunch?”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

That very same night, Oscar and yourself sat around your coffee table—a dining table wasn’t in your budget—eating the left over food that customers didn’t bother to pick up from the restaurant.

Oscar seemed especially down today. You didn’t doubt that it was due to you shutting down his idea the day prior.

You called his name softly and he looked to you with his brown eyes blown wide in interest. “I went to talk to aunt Audrey today.”

He dropped his fork. “What do you mean?” He urged.

“She’s agreed to help us with the restaurant.” You didn’t meet his eyes.

Oscar gave a quiet gasp. “But you said…” he shook his head.

“I know.”

“Well, I mean, are you sure about this?” He was hesitant to ask the question.

You took a shaky deep breath. “Yeah. She agreed to give us as much as we need.”

“This is amazing.” Oscar beamed, rounding the table to hug you.

Your nod put him off. Not quite convinced you were happy about this. “This is amazing, right?” He asked, a nervous laugh.

“Yeah, ‘course.” Your strained smile did little to ease him, but he didn’t push it any further.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Your free time disappeared, dropping to nothing. The hours not spent at work, we’re spent shopping around for a place that fit both of your visions. Most were either too small or not in an ideal location.

That was, until after a week and a half of searching, you found it.

The realtor stood at the door, allowing Oscar and yourself to enter before her. You stepped in first, glancing around the space, stunned at what your eyes laid on. You gasped, gaze finding Oscar’s after having done a 360 of the space. “Oh, Oscar, it’s perfect.” You smile was infectious.

He hadn’t seen you this happy in months. “Yeah?” He asked, slowly moving to join you at the center of the room.

You nodded profusely. “Yeah.” You confirmed. “How much did you say this one was?” You turned to the realtor.

“200k.” She answered simply. Your smile dropped, and following up quickly by saying, “but we could try and negotiate with the buyer to lower it.”

You nodded slowly.

Oscar didn’t have to ask you to know what you were thinking. The value of aunt Audrey’s money captivated your mind once more, as it had many times since beginning this journey.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

While the carpenters built a new wall to separate the kitchen from the dining room, you and Oscar got to painting. Most of the walls were coated in a light blueish-white. Except the back wall where the bar would sit against, which was being painted in a deep blue color.

Oscar dipped the paint brush back into the paint. He swiped it along the baseboards, careful to not paint them. The light wooden shade would go well with their plans for the dining room furniture.

The brush was dipped back into the bucket of paint. Too much paint. Oscar tried to shake it off. Good thing you set plastic down to protect the floors. The paint went everywhere, including on your face. A pale blue streak across your cheek.

“Oscar.” You called his name. Your tone questioned his audacity.

He looked up at you in curiosity. He tried, and failed, to hold back his chuckles.

“Oh you think this is funny do you?”

He broke out in uncontrollable laughter.

The pads of your fingers swiped across your cheek, collecting the paint. Your fingertips met his face, painting his face in a smear of the blue-white color.

He was no longer laughing, staring at you with his jaw dropped.

“Not so funny now, huh?” You replied, smug as ever, a smile of vengeance playing on your lips.

Blue paint from the can met Oscar’s finger, a purposeful gesture. The look he gave you was devious.

He stood, drawing closer towards you like a lion hunting down his pray. You held up a hand. “Don’t you dare.” His advances didn’t stop at your warning.

Cautiously, you backed away, careful of the paint cans that littered the floor. “Oscar don’t!” He chuckled, finger missing your face by mere inches. You ran for it, but he was faster.

His unpainted hand wrapped around your arm, pulling you into his chest. You tried to squirm away, but his arm around your waist held you in place. He laughed at your objections while he drew a tiny heart on your cheek. It tickled, drawing a giggle out of you.

With the proximity, you could see every detail of Oscar’s eyes; the streaks of gold that threaded through the brown and green. Mesmerized, lost in the way they shined when the rays of sunlight hit them just right.

He cleared his throat, reluctant to release you from his hold. “We should probably clean up. Gotta be at work in less than an hour.”

You nodded, tucking your hair behind your ears and stepping away.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

It had been a month since Oscar and yourself began flipping the barren building into your own restaurant. It was coming together. The bar was built, walls put in place. The furnishings were all that was left.

As you were preparing a dish, you overheard two of your coworkers.

“Did you hear about that new place that’s opening soon over on everlake street?”

“Yeah, lucky bastards. Probably rich fucks who couldn’t care less about the food.”

You met Oscar’s eyes across the preparation table. He could tell you were uncomfortable. It wasn’t hard to pick up from the way you shifted on your feet, and the way your eyes flicked around the room.

“I feel like I’m a shit person.” You confessed in a hushed voice later that night, sitting next to him in bed.

Oscar sighed, taking your hand in his and squeezing it. “If this is about what we heard earlier-“

“Not just them.” You interrupted. “But with aunt Audrey, too.” Your fingertips drew shapes on the back of his hand.

“Audrey is so happy for you. Why would she make you feel like a shit person?” Oscar leaned forward, observing your face fully.

You bowed your head. “You know how my parents put me through culinary school?”

Oscar nodded.

“Well, they resented me for it. Told me I was a waste of their hard earned money.” You shook your head, scoffing a laugh. “I don’t want the same to happen with aunt Audrey.”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

“Hey Aunt Audrey!” You greeted her with a hug.

Another month had passed. The dining room was all put together. Boxes of alcohol sat at the bar. The kitchen was still coming together. The preparation table was really the only thing that was done back there.

“Wow it’s looking fantastic, honey.” She beamed, glancing around the room. It was the first time she came in.

You followed her journey to the kitchen. “You think?” You asked as she pushed open the door.

“Absolutely, love. Best investment ever.”

The sound of Audrey’s voice alerted Oscar, who had been overseeing the installation of the ovens. “Aunt Audrey,” he smiled, greeting her with a hug just as you had. When he pulled away, he went and stood beside you, an arm coming up to rest around your shoulders.

“What are you going to name the place?” She questioned.

You and Oscar exchanged a look. You shrugged. “We’re not sure yet.”

Audrey waved a hand through the air. “No matter. I’m sure whatever it is will be excellent.”

“Hey, there’s a guy out front who needs your signature.” One of the maintenance guys informed.

You nodded and excused yourself from Oscar and Audrey.

Oscar’s eyes lingered on you until you were no longer in his view.

“I’m so happy you guys are doing something good with all of that money. I was worried I would just carry it all to the grave.” Audrey laughed.

Oscar sighed. “Yeah. She feels guilty about borrowing it all.” His gaze drifted to the door you exited from moments ago.

A frown replaced Audrey’s soft smile. “Is that why she was insisting paying me interest? And giving me a fourth of the profit?”

The new information caused Oscar’s eyes to blow wide in shock. “I suppose so, yes.”

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Oscar and yourself put in your two weeks. The restaurant was near done. The only thing left was to get all of your food for a test run with family and close friends.

Well that, and deciding on a name.

“How about we name it something fancy? Y’know maybe it’ll make people want to come in then?” Oscar suggested. You’d been lying side by side on your living room floor for the past hour, throwing name ideas out there.

You hummed, an idea sparking in your brain. “Maybe we name it after aunt Audrey.” You suggested. You twisted your head to face him.

He did the same.

Your faces were so close. Each time one of you exhaled, the other could feel the heat of their breath. You could see every little detail of his face. How deep his dimples were. And that same golden glow of his eyes.

It wasn’t a conscious decision, but Oscar’s eyes had trailed down to your lips. The plush pinkness of them enticed him. It was like a magnet, drawing him closer to you without his knowledge.

He froze when he realized his advancements, and receded back to a safe distance. He gazed at the ceiling once more. “You’re my best friend, you know that?” His quiet words weighed heavy with the burden of his heart.

You laughed. A sweet noise to his ears. Like a liquid sugar. “I don’t think that’s what we were talking about.”

“No, yeah, duh.” Oscar breathed out a laugh. “Naming it after Audrey would be nice.”

The silence stretched, both of your thoughts being the reason for the lack of communication.

Though, your minds were on different topics. Yours—on topic of conversation—was focused on creating a name that would reference your aunt. Audrey’s? No, it doesn’t sound right. Too basic. What about using her last name?

Oscar’s thoughts were far from on topic. Instead of Audrey coursing through his mind, it was you.

“The cove.” You spoke, breaking Oscar from his daydreams.

“Her last name. Audrey Cove. The cove.” You explained.

Oscar smiled and nodded.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Opening night. The first display of your restaurant, serving your families and close friends.

You stayed in the kitchen, calling plates and managing the rest of the cooks. The best you could find.

Oscar was on the host stand, greeting your families and taking in all the praise for starting his own place. He was the more hospitable one.

The response was overwhelmingly positive from all those who came. You got in your head about it, though, insisting it was only because they were family. They were just being polite.

You didn’t see their faces when they tasted the food, though. Oscar did. He could tell their positive feedback was genuine. After all, visual reactions were always more reliable than verbal ones.

Audrey stayed longer than everyone else, tears welling in her eyes as she congratulated the both of you.

You and Oscar remained long after everyone had left. The dining room was dark. Only half the kitchen lights remained illuminated. You were both sat on the preparation table. Your topic of conversation was dependent on the future of the restaurant.

“So, Audrey told me something.” He began. You raised a brow at him, enticing him to continue. “She said you were pushing for interest on the loan, and that you offered a fourth of the restaurant’s profits.” The information was factual, but he spoke like it was a question.

You hung your head. “Yeah.” You confirmed.

“Why would you do that?” His tone indicated stupidity on your behalf. “We don’t have the funds for that. And even when we get started, we won’t have those funds for at least a year out!” He raised his voice in frustration. He couldn’t wrap his head around why you would want to plunge the both of you into a large gaping hole of debt.

“Don’t yell at me! You know exactly why I did what I did.” You shook your head. “I only went to her for you anyway. Just so I could help you make your stupid dream a reality.” You spit the words out at him, jumping from the counter and storming out to the dining room.

He called after you. You didn’t answer. He followed you out of the kitchen. “Don’t make this my fault. I didn’t force you to go to her.”

“Of course you didn’t! But I did this for you because I figured…” your breaths were erratic. “Y’know I figured…” you shook your head. “Forget it.” You blinked away the tears forming on your waterline.

You tried to leave, but Oscar caught hold of your arm. His grip wasn’t letting up any time soon, keeping you in place. “Figured what?” He asked, tentative and gentle.

Facing the ceiling, you tried to will this situation away, silently praying to the heavens to get you out of his.

Oscar’s hand slid down your arm, holding your hand in his. He gave it a squeeze. “You can tell me anything, you know that.” He paused. “I’m your best friend.”

A shaky breath was sucked into your lungs. “That’s exactly the point.” You confessed in a mere whisper.

“What?” Oscar asked. He heard you, but didn’t understand.

You built up the courage to meet his gaze. “I figured if I did all of this for you, that you would…” you took a deep breath. He was patient. “You would see me as more than a friend.”

The streetlights outside bathed his face in an orange glow, allowing you to see the shift in his expression. Eyebrows lifted, mouth agape, eyes widened. You knew you messed up when he dropped his hand from yours.

He cursed under his breath, taking a step back.

A nasty feeling brewed in your stomach. Bile threatened to inch it’s way up your throat. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” You repeated, shaking your head, trying your best to hold back tears. It’s like you could physically see him slipping through your fingers.

Oscar’s head was in his hands, refusing to meet your eyes. The further he withdrew into the restaurant, the more the orange glow faded from his figure. Like a visual representation of him fading away from you.

“Just forget I said anything, please.” You begged.

He looked at you like you were crazy.

“How long? How long have you felt like that and not told me?” His tone demanded an answer.

You shook your head, trying desperately to recall a time. You couldn’t. “I don’t know. Awhile.”

He cursed again.

“Look, I don’t want to ruin our friendship and everything we’ve built, please just forget about it.” The tears began to roll in silent streams. Your fear of losing him becoming too close to reality.

Oscar didn’t say anything. You were drowning in his silence. “I don’t want to be friends.” He shook his head. His words was the water filling your lungs.

You choked on your sobs. The sound seemed to flip a switch in Oscar. Suddenly, through the blurry tears, you could see him standing right in front of you. “Fuck, don’t cry.” He wiped away your tears with the pads of his thumbs.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” He started. “I meant,” he squeezed his eyes shut. “God, I fell for you the first time I laid eyes on you. Stupid cliche, but I never believed in love at first sight until them.” Finally confessing his truth, Oscar felt lighter.

You gasped a laugh.

“I never told you because I couldn’t bare the thought of rejection. Of losing you. It’s driven me crazy for years.” Oscar’s palms were warm against your cheeks.

“Years.” You sighed out.

He nodded, a stupid grin on his face.

Your hands pushed his hair out of his face, settling at the base of his neck.

Oscar went for it, dipping his head to finally feel your plush pink lips against his. And it was as close to heaven on earth as he’d ever get. It was inexplicably wonderful.

Years of built up tension snapped in that moment. You pulled him closer, heavy breaths exchanged through open mouths as the kiss became heated. He backed you up into a table, lifting you up to sit you on the surface.

His hands dug into your thighs while yours dipped underneath his button-up. He sighed into your mouth at the feeling of your fingers tracing the grooves of his toned body.

You pulled back; Oscar’s lips chased yours. “Probably shouldn’t have sex where our customers are going to eat.” You laughed, breathless.

Oscar nodded, chest heaving. “Yeah. Let’s get home.” He grinned.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Three months after your official opening, you’d wracked in a good amount of customers. The dining room was packed each night. The reviews were excellent.

Oscar burst into the kitchen one night, during rush. You knew it was important. “Jean Flavia is here.” He whispered in your ear.

Jean Flavia. An esteemed critic. In your restaurant. Your breaths came sporadically. Eyes darting around the kitchen. Blinking a million times in a minute.

Oscar placed his hand on the small of your back, rubbing tiny circles there. “It’ll be alright.”

You nodded, though the movement wasn’t done out of a conscious effort. “Okay. Get his order. I’ll cook it personally.” You scribbled his name down on a post it, all caps and a few exclamation points. You placed the little blue paper on one of the tables displayed on your whiteboard with the guidance of Oscar’s finger.

“Sadie,” you called one of your other chefs. She’d just sent out a dish. She was the only one who wasn’t currently occupied.

She was at your side in an instant. “Yes, chef?”

“Take over, will you?” You asked, already drawing away from the stand.

“Yes, chef.”

Oscar came back through the kitchen, making a direct line to you to deliver the order to you. Your heart was beating out of your chest. Oscar could tell. He squeezed your shoulder. “You’re an incredible cook. Just pretend it’s for any old customer.” His encouraging smile settled your nerves a little.

His presence was gone from the kitchen as soon as it came.

You took a deep breath, gathering yourself before you began.

The dish was simple enough. Beef tenderloin, grilled asparagus and roasted potatoes. It wasn’t anything wildly outside your comfort zone.

But as you started on the asparagus, fear of failure crept up on you. If you messed up, it wouldn’t only hurt you, but also Oscar. You didn’t want to hurt Oscar.

The tenderloin was tossed on a skillet beside the asparagus.

“How’s it going?” Oscars voice in your ear startled you.

“Please help me.” You weren’t ashamed to ask. Not when the establishment itself was at risk.

He jumped in as soon as you asked him, taking the reigns on the tenderloin. He was always better at cooking the meats compared to you.

All three components of the dish were completed at the same time. You shooed Oscar back to the floor, leaving you to plate the dish.

It was the most perfect dish you’d ever plated.

You handed it off to one of the waiters, following the young boy out to the floor. You found Oscar quickly, stood by the host stand. You went to join him.

The concern radiated off of you in overwhelming amounts. It was starting to infect Oscar.

His warm hand found the small of your back, thumb brushing in soothing circles.

You tried your best not to look like a stalker, but you couldn’t afford to miss Jean’s reaction. You watched intently as he cut into the beef, and as he brought the fork to his lips.

And after all that, he had no visible reaction. He simply scribbled some words down on a notepad and continued to go about eating his meal.

“What do you think that means?” You asked Oscar, hushed whispers.

“I guess we’ll have to wait to find out.” He sighed.

₊ ‧ *��₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

It was before hours, ten in the morning. Oscar was sat in the office when you returned with mail, shouting his name as soon as you set foot in the building.

He greeted you with a small, nervous smile. “Is that it?” He asked, glancing down at the newsletter in your hand. You nodded eagerly. “Well, let’s read it.”

The title of it was put simply. The name of your restaurant.

The Cove

While the name may lead customers to believe this is another bland seafood restaurant, it is much more than that.

The menu features a wide variety of flavors and options—something for everyone.

What is certainly more interesting, though, is the food itself.

I had the pleasure of receiving a meal cooked by the founders themselves, a young y/n l/n and Oscar Piastri, and I must say they have talent in the field.

The tenderloin lived up to its name, tender from the very first bite. The beef was mouthwatering, a perfect blend of seasoning to complement its natural flavors.

The vegetables were just as good. I don’t think I’ve ever had such delectable grilled asparagus and roasted spring potatoes.

Every bite of the meal was as good as it’s predecessors. It never fell flat for me, and I find that very hard to come by.

It would be foolish of me to call the food anything except for excellent. These two young chefs really know the art of the trade.

You gasped upon finishing reading, looking up at Oscar with a glimmer in your eye. “We’re excellent!” You cheered, jumping into his arms. You laughed as he twirled you around.

“I’m gonna bake a cake.” You declared when he put you down. You landed a peck on his lips, and he watched with a smile as you skipped off to the fridge.

While you baked, Oscar stood close, clingy as ever. He always had a hand on you in some way. Whether it was overtop one of yours, on the small of your back, or hugging you from behind. He was simply too happy to distance himself.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

It’d been a month since the review was published. Reservations were booked out for months. You cried when Oscar told you, too happy to contain it.

You laid in his arms one night, watching ratatouille for the eighteenth time. “I miss cooking.” You confessed. Since the opening of the restaurant, you’d been in a manager position. The last time you cooked a dish was for Flavia.

Oscar’s arms tightened around you. “I’ve been thinking… desserts would be a good addition to the menu.”

Inclining your head to look up at him, Oscar could see the sparkle of passion in your eyes. “Are you saying…?” The smile stretched across your face made the muscles ache. You didn’t care.

“I can’t think of a better baker around.” He replied.

Twisting around him, you straddled his hips, dipping to slot your lips together. Oscar laughed into the kiss.

₊ ‧ *‧₊˚ ⋅* ۶ৎ ‧₊ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊

Two years since opening.

Aunt Audrey refused to take any more money after you paid a fourth of it back. The only thing she wanted was a guaranteed table whatever night she wanted. Her meals were always on the house.

But you did pay back your parents, matching every dollar they put into culinary school.

You and Oscar moved out of your one bedroom apartment, buying a big three bed, three bath house.

There was a shiny rock on your finger, too. A wedding in the planning.

“What do you think? Dark blue? Or the lighter more sky blue?” Squares of fabric were shuffled around the dining room table. You were trying to decide on a color scheme. What color dresses your bridesmaids would wear, and the color of the groomsmen’s suits or ties.

“Why not both? Maybe the bridesmaids can wear the lighter blue and the groomsmen the darker blue?” Oscar suggested.

You tilted your head, thinking it over. “Yeah. Yeah, I think I like that.” You nodded, beaming up a him.

“Perfect.” Oscar muttered against your lips before planting a small kiss on them.

#f1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 blurb #f1 fluff #op81 #f1 angst #f1 x you #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri au #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri

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fallen-gravity · 3 months ago

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some thoughts on the moana 2 novelization, as threatened promised <3 under a readmore for spoilers and also because I don't trust myself to keep it short

(friendly reminder that I do not ship Maui and Moana! you can rb, but don't be weird about it)

Genuinely right off the bat I can't get over how loving Moana is described to be? She just loves others so much. She always describes Pua and HeiHei as her friends rather than her pets because of how much she cares about them!! it's so stupid cute that not only does she refer to Pua as her "loyal, adorable friend", but it's also implied that she handmade the little satchel he likes to ride in just for him. It eats me up inside!! She cares so much!!

The center island she's looking for is spelled as Motufetū!! I always love getting confirmation for these things, it makes things so much easier as a fic writer.

One of the souveniers she takes back with her alongside the broken pottery is a "massive clam". hello???? foreshadowing??? did everyone know about the giant clam guardian??

"For a man who had once forbidden her from going beyond the reef, he now spent quite a lot of time beyond it himself." AUUWHAAHHH THAT LINE KILLED ME WE LOVE TO SEE GROWTH FROM TRAUMA

"He loved her enthusiasm, but she seemed overexcited, and she was still his daughter, and he wanted to take care of her" MOANA!!! IS!!! SO LOVED!!!!

Loto's tool is called an adze! also she's apparently only 17?? two years younger than Moana?? not at all what I would've pegged her as, honestly

The storytelling tapestries are called siapos!!! more terminology!!!

"Her eyes darted to the image of Maui carved into the wall. She hadn't seen him since her return to Motunui, and she missed him. Not that she would admit it out loud" STRANGLING YOU STRANGLING YOU STRANGLING YOU

"Humans, were in fact, why he was here now, in this unknown realm of the gods looking at the pinkish white ball in front of him. At least, he thought that might be why he's here. These missions to benefit humans didn't always come with clear instructions" immediately followed by thinking about the trip to Te Fiti with Moana. What a dumbass <3 "I'm doing it for them and I don't know why? totally unrelated note haha that trip to Te Fiti with Moana was fun :)"

Never saw any of that journey coming, never could brute force his way through it, worth every second. Only considers getting the hook back as an afterthougt, ougghhhhhhh

Homeboy sucks at pretending that he doesn't care about Moana. He's talking to Matangi for all of two seconds and he's all "I'm a changed person! For um. no particular reason! It was definitely because of the thousand year isolation and nothing else whatsoever!"

There's no finite explanation for why Maui's there, but he credits Moana for making him a better person for being the reason. Something about breaking the curse? It's never made clear, even in the book.

Mini Maui selling him out for bullshitting about hating Moana is even funnier in the book, like Maui goes "yeah lol that girl was just a tool I uused to get my hook back" and Mini Maui starts pounding on him. Homeboy Moana can't even hear you and you're still mad at Maui for bullshitting, it kills me. Maui tries shooting him down. "Mini Maui wasn't convinced" has me in stitches

Maui's internal dialogue shifting to "oh wait, yeah, I wanted to surprise her with a visit. Oops." while he's tied up also has me in stitches. ffs, maui, get your priorities straight

"He refused to let Moana be hurt or threatened" I am on the floor

Every time Tui calls Moana "my dear" it adds ten years to my lifespan

The siapo of Maui in the storytelling fale is so lifelike that "it's as if he were about to jump off the fabric at any moment and start teasing her." that's so stupid cute!!!! also so stupid sad that she probably talks to it a lot hoping that it'll work someday. ough.

"Maui was having a bad day. Actually, he was having a lot of bad days"." feels like it was pulled right from a fic I would've written in 2018, I'm screaming

"I don't need her to save me...again" swallowing the earth as we speak

Curly still being the default nickname is also taking me out I need to be given financial compensation asap

There's a parallel that got lost in translation from page to movie, there's the bit where Moana's like "I'm sure Maui's off doing important demigod stuff, wherever he is", but there's also a bit of internal monologue where Maui's like "I hope Moana's faring better than I am, wherever she is" I'm gonna conk their heads together y'all need to communicate

The book directly mentions Moana and her crew passing Te Fiti. Did I miss that from the movie? Did they show Te Fiti, or is this a book-exclusive detail?

Their little Kakamora buddy has a name!! Kotu we don't deserve you. Also he's the Chief Kakamora's son! I just thought he was second in command. That's a whole baby

Maui knows who Pua is, somehow! He sees Pua waddling around and his first thought is "okay, this is weird, why do these people have Moana's pig with them?". Doesn't even remotely click that she could be with them. He's actually about to leave until HeiHei shows face and boy is he absolutely mortified. It eats me up inside. Instant shift of "goodbyeeeeee random humans I don't liiiike!!!" to oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, where is she????

Incredibly suspicious that Moana is the human that has all the gods talking. Something too about Maui having to force himself not to care about her. Did someone do a little too much bragging about his favorite human?

"I thought you'd be...more." okay a) I def think Maui's been overhyping her and b) haha More callback we love to see it

Also, Matangi's just a demigoddess! Not a goddess at all. interesting, interesting, interesting

Moana also sucks at priorities, one single mention of Maui and she instantly shifts to oh, oh my god, is he here? is he nearby? where is he?

Moana recognizes the Portal of the Gods as similar to the entrance to Lalotai...does that mean Lalotai is connected to the Realm of the Gods, in some way? are they the same place under a different name? also all :') that the dance she does to open the portal is specifically meant to be a copy of the haka that Maui did in the first movie.

You know, I think you need her just as much as she needs you. WHAT DOES IT MEAAAN? WHAT DOES IT MEAN? WHAT DOES IT MEAN??? WHERE DID THAT COME FROM???? YOU NEED EACH OTHER??? WHY DO THE GODS KNOW?? WHY DO THE GODS KNOW????

The first thing Moana does when she's back on her canoe is look for Maui because she thinks he's gone 🥹 wants to go back and look for him until she realizes he's the reason she's dangling in the air. Did he stop her from falling off the canoe? ough, I'm deceased

I can't get over Moana assuming he just wants to catch up, they are both such chronic babblers.

"His expression was both happy and annoyed." I'm losing my shit.

"But yeah, it is good to see you again" 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹.

"The fire in the sky lead us to you" can we stop with the written in the stars stuff. can we stop. my poor heart can't take it. platonic soulmates fr. "maybe we're supposed to do this together." THE GODS KNOW!!!! THEY KNOW!!!

"Maui bit back a smile." kill me. kill me. i'm dead on the spot. kill me.

Ohhhhh, I always love seeing what they do in place of the songs and the replacement for "Can I Get a Chee-Hoo?" kills me most of all, I think. Maui still goes to sit with her, but when Moana starts talking about all the people she's gonna let down, he comes to a screeching halt when she mentions Simea.

"If anyone should be upset, it should be me. Since when do you have a sister?"

"You would've met her, if you ever came to visit me." OUCH! OUCH! OUCH!!! She's trying to tease him but there's a tinge of hurt in her voice, like she feels like he doesn't care enough about her to take the time for her!! You need her as much as she needs you!!!!!

"Three years is a blip to me, princess," says the liar who thought about her on a near-daily basis!!!!

"Empathy wasn't Maui's strong suit. But he seemed to be trying- for her. and that dulled the pain a little" i am in my grave. i am in my grave.

"Why are you even here?" -> "Because...because I've been low before, and I couldn't see my path. And someone came along who I underestimated and she lifted me up. Someone I don't want to underestimate herself right now." THROWING UP!!!!!

"Wow, you're the worst at this." -> "Maui pretended to look offended" conking their heads together as we speak they are so SWEET!!!!!

Maui giving her all the credit for being the one to defeat Nalo!!! not himself!!!! her!!!!!!!

"Maui said he was better for knowing her. That had to count for something" 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

It still destroys me that Maui's entire priority is keeping Moana safe!!! He's not just diving in to fight, he keeps going back to make sure they're all safe!!! that's all that matters to him!!!

God their little exchanges are so stupid they're killing me. "Nalo doesn't care about you!" "Yes he does! I'm Maui!!" "THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!!" dumbasses <3

oooh he really doesn't want to separate, his eyes keep going back and forth between Moana and the monster storm :')

Okay. okay. okay. listen. there's a lot more to Maui's goodbye in the book than in the movie. In the book it's an apology. It's a rushed explanation on why he hadn't gone back to visit her prior. He lied about not having the time for her. All his time has been about and for her.

The reason I didn't visit...was 'cause you made me want to be better. You deserve the whole ocean...I wanted you to have it. Watch yourself out there. I could pull up millions of islands, but if you're not there to land on them, what's the point?

FOR!!!! HER!!!!! EVERYTHING!!!! IS!!!!! FOR!!!!! HER!!!!!

He hated leaving Moana and her crew behind,

He trusted her.

God, coud you imagine? First movie Maui, getting his hook destroyed? Those three words hold more power than anything. He trusted her. If anyone can do this it's her. He trusts her. He trusts her.

His thoughts kept drifting back to Moana. Nothing else matters!!! He could be all full of himself and think about how heroic he's being for The Humans (other) and all he's thinking about is his Favorite Human.

The thought of failing her pushed on him as the weight of the water grew heavy.

WHO WROTE THIS!!!! WHO READ OUR FANFICS!!!!! WHO KNEW!!!!!

His tattoos glowing with the power of the gods the first time he tries lifting Motufetū.....were there other gods that were helping him? are there gods who know?? Te Fiti if you're out there,,,,,,,,,

Moana rushing to protect Maui when lightning barely misses him the first time is.........destroying me?? taking me out??? imagine being protective over a demigod literally pulling an island out of the sea. imagine trying to take many hits for him. using her conch shell to call out to the storm to hit her instead? Maui yelling at her to Not do that? probably because it's breaking his own heart to watch?? ough.

"It went against every instinct, but Moana knew she had to listen to him." THAT'S ALSO GROWTH!!! KEEPING THEM BOTH SAFE BY NOT PUSHING HERSELF FROWARD!!!! GROWTH!!!!!

Maui getting hit by three strikes of lightning, and he uses what he thinks are his last dying moments to say goodbye to Moana. He locks eyes with her, gives her a sad smile, and yells Find your way, kid. Just to her. Just loud enough that she's the only one who can hear. and oh boy is this book brutal about that fourth and "fatal" lightning strike. It's strong enough to fry him. It launches him up so high in the air that Moana can't even see him

So, uh...fun fact! The reason Moana doesn't instantly dive in the water to go after him is because she thinks she's too late and that he's dead on impact. She doesn't even see him hit the water.

"Moana gasped as she felt her necklace pop open and her shell- Simea's shell- toppled out. Frantically,she reached for it, ignoring the danger around her. She couldn't lose that shell. She had already lost so much."

She thinks of everyone she loves when she's about to dive into the water and reach for Motufetū herself and Maui's among them right alongside her family. God. If there were ever a more indirect found family confirmation............

Lightning flashed, illuminating the sky and filtering through the water. Moana hoped that her crew was okay. That Maui had somehow survived. RIGHT!!! FROM!!!! THE FICS!!!! I SWEAR THIS IS PULLED RIGHT FROM THE OLD FICS!!!

His hook was missing, but he didn't care. He dove in after Moana. Hi, yes, 2018-era me is screaming out from inside me. She's clawing her way out of my chest. This is everything she's ever needed.

Fun fact part two! I don't remember how it was in the movie, but Maui watches Moana die too!! I think in the movie he just sees her still body on the surface of Motufetū, but in the book he dives under the water just a moment sooner and helplessly watches the lightning strike through her body. He watches her go still and sink towards the ocean floor :) Now they both have the trauma of watching each other die! :) :)

He tries desperately to catch her before she hits the floor but there are multiple instances of him being knocked back by a shockwave :') The gods sure have found his weakness!!!

He pushed through it. Nothing was stopping him from reaching Moana.

The grieving!!! The grieving is so fierce!!

Isn't it fun?? He practically has a burial ceremony for her! He catches her before her body hits the floor, and he places her gently on the surface of the island so she can fulfill her story! God! I'm unwell! He places Simea's little shell next to her body so Moana can be close to her sister one final time!

Then, kneeling next to her, he put his hand to his heart. It rested on the tattoo of Moana that had appeared after their last adventure. It had been his constant reminder in the three years since how strong a human could be. 🥹🥹🥹😭😭😭😭😭😭🥹😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

It's just...he doesn't even realize the ocean is creating a dome around them! He's that grief-striken!!

The ocean knows them. It knows what they need. He calls it Moana's. Moana's ocean. aUGGHHHHHH.

Hey so all of that talk about Maui not allowing himself to let the gods know that Moana's his friend and then he's begging them. He's begging the gods and her (her? his? huamnity in general?) ancestors to save her because she deserves more than this. she deserves better. If any of the gods knew nothing of the two of them they sure as hell did now, ohhhhhh boy is that gonna screw him over later :')

So the book never explicitly states she's a demigoddess either! It very ominously states that She'll never be the same.

Moana gets to see her ancestors this time! I can't remember if she woke up before they disappeared in the movie, but when she wakes up her thought process goes wait, where am I? to oh, shit, MAUI?!?!? to TAUTAI VASA? TALA?? HELLO??? someone please invent therapy already she's gonna need it pretty desperately

god imagine if she thought maui was also dead?? she doesn't but ohhhh. ohhhhhh the angst potential of her thinking they're all there to see her off. god.

Shock and awe. That's all Moana can get out of Maui's expression when she catches him staring.

Mini Maui, the more accurate voice, is bawling his little eyes out when he sees that Moana's okay

Moana understands the implications instantly. and she knows that she's only alive now because Maui prayed for her

"Arching an eyebrow, she nodded over her shoulder. It was time they raised an island- togehter". SICK!!! TO!!! MY!!! STOMACH!!!

"She saw Maui, a familiar comfort in this uncharted territory" [AGGRESIVE TABLE SLAMMING] THAT'S FOUND FAMILY BAYBEEEEE

:') there's a big group hug with Moana's crew and Maui tries to wiggle his way to the center. That's almost shot for shot a scene from one of the first Moana fics I ever wrote back in December of 2017 :') turning into a little lizard and skittering into the center of the hug where Moana is because he wants a proper hug too :')

Okay so I definitely know for sure that when it says the villagers of Motunui are shocked Maui's there because they've heard so many stories about him that it's just the regular old legacy stories. but listen. let me be deluisional. it's because Moana always tells stories and Moana's like. known around the island as his best friend. so it's like!!! oh!!! there he is!!! Tautai Moana's best friend!!!! :')

He calls Simea Mini Moana!!!! weeping and sobbing

Simea's big brown eyes familiar. He Also calls Simea tugging on his ear Very Familiar. That's so stupid cute. I wonder if he ever visited when Moana was out voyaging and he ran into Simea if he'd be able to tell that she was her little sister? :') also hilarious because I'm sure it implies Moana told him Simea wanted to yell at him and he went "yeah okay that's fair"

(still lowkey sad Maui never gets included in the family hugs. Ohhhh if they ever found out what he did to save her they'd pull him straight in for sure)

MAUI STAYS!!! CONFIRMATION THAT HE STAYS!!!!

He stays long enough for things to calm down. He and Moana head out by themselves to help their little Kakamora buddy reunite with his family (cough cough)

Moana goes from "that kid" to his "dear friend." cherished. beloved. it's not even relelvant to the plot. He just smiles at her and goes "where to now?" and it's just. that's his dear friend!!! god!!!! so beloved!!! that feels like it holds even more weight than best friend!!!

god. god. I really gotta write a fic where they talk about watching each other die

good shit!!! gooood shit!!! I'm gonna be screaming about this forever. god.

#moana #moana 2 #moana 2 novelization #team bun buddies #seablings

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batsylabs · 7 months ago

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Hey, my sister wanted me to post this and I agree that the world should hear her massive-brained take. From here on out everything is written by her.

So, spoilers for The Book of Bill, but I need literally everyone to know about something that me and my sister have been talking about. On thisisnotawebsitedotcom.com, typing in DIONARAP leads you to THIS image:

Very specifically I need everyone to look at THIS part of it.

Very funny reference by itself, but my sister pointed something out to me that I cannot stop thinking about. The implication of this image is that it was either made by Bill himself or a member of his various cults. So, at some point, there was a Bill Cipher imposter that had to be called out by someone within his circle. This has two conclusions:

A delusional person dressed up as Bill and started to believe they ARE Bill, speaking fake bullshit that Bill would never believe. Bill finds this funny, but his cult is dumb enough that they can't tell the difference and he has to make it clear. He's never mentioned in the actual book because Bill just didn't care enough, he was some weird eccentric he probably killed or gave him infinite nightmares or something.

(what I think is the funnier option): There is another god that is visually mistakable for Bill Cipher but is NOT HIM. There is another yellow, top hat and bowtie- wearing god with triangular imagery probably named something cunty like Ash Caesar. This dude goes around doing the same shit that Bill does, but he doesn't want to build the portal and cause the apocalypse or anything, he just wants to lay back and be fed grapes like a king all day.

Bill absolutely HATES this man. With other characters, there's some ulterior emotion that he's trying to suppress, he's angry and embarrassed that Stanley outsmarted him, he's emotionally distraught over losing Ford, but Ash? This lanky, smooth-talking ladies' man that's probably been around as long as him and keeps stealing his thunder? There is no other deeper emotions, he just actually DESPISES him. His first thought with Weirdmageddon is probably "The second I find Ash I'm going to throw him against a wall repeatedly until he splatters into red paint." He is the only person not even mentioned in The Book of Bill because Bill is so unreasonably angry at him that he doesn't want to dignify him by including him in the book.

#gravity falls #bill cipher #the book of bill spoilers #the book of bill #thisisnotawebsitedotcom #she was very passionate about this and i completely understand why this is genius #this is bill's dippy fresh #fav #meme

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zillychu · 1 month ago

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hi hello looks at the tags of ur recent act 5 sif art. i wld LOVE to hear more about the stress level mechanic you mentioned if you perhaps wanna ramble about it 👉👈

I kept putting off answering this ask forever bc I wanted to finish the idea it came with, but idk when that will happen so here we go!

This was a game mechanic I thought of while refining an idea for a hypothetical sequel (two actually, for a trilogy), where Siffrin essentially remains OP as hell. But this does not actually make things easier.

Ramblings about the distress level mechanic, and story thoughts under the cut! This contains spoilers!

Re: In Stars and Wind

(get it. re: because it's a sequel. and also re:wind. wind is important. and there are no loops but Sif rewinds. god I'm so funny)

[[ Act I, part I ]]

Starts as a slow, cute holiday where the player gets to control different party members for each part of the story for different points of view and inner thoughts, to get a better feel of where everyone is emotionally.

Now in Bambouche, the party is traveling together, the atmosphere very much a relaxed and welcomed vacation. We see some of the new, but very mild conflict they have to juggle–how everyone has different opinions on handling their exploding fame, different ideas on where to go next… acclimating to Siffrin’s new demeanor and ailments.

It's nothing terrible! Siffrin is more susceptible to Crafting sickness now, like an old injury that's fully healed but can get sore easily. Using Craft normally tends to mean lingering fatigue, maybe a nap or two. Heavier usage, and he gets body aches and fevers.

He's also…different, now. They all know, they understand, they take it all in genuine stride. It's just a bit bumpy when Siffrin brings up something he shouldn't know, references things that never happened, still instinctively reaches for their knife or looks for easy ways to die when they feel cornered. Sometimes he gets unreasonably scared in battle, sometimes unreasonably scary. His power fluctuates from lv.1 to lv.999 (wait, wasn't the level cap supposed to be 99?)

Odile and Isa are the first ones seen discussing how odd that is. They saw those after-images of him running through the House on his own, they know he's strong. Much stronger than anyone could be even with years of fighting Sadness. (How long was Siffrin trapped in those loops, anyway?) Hell, he had the power to become something akin to a god.

They chalk up his moments of weakness to Craft Sickness, perhaps even a new and lingering disorder. They're not worried about it being a bother, they're just worried about what it could mean for him. They've brought it up before, but Sif also looked a bit confused and would say he just felt weak and tired for some reason. They think maybe his ridiculous power back then was only there due to the Wish Craft that no longer exists–maybe they're blowing things out of proportion.

Though all in all, everyone is happy! They're all together, seeing new places, becoming closer.

At the end, they have a campfire picnic at night. It's then that everyone solidifies they're family now, and Sif is struck by how similar it all feels to that night. The night he wished he had back. He breaks down into tears and they try to comfort him, but he's happy. He tells them about that night now lost in the loops, how everything went right that day. Everyone laughs and cries and it's full and bright, their little campfire shining like a star in the night. They all love, and they're all loved.

[[ Act I, part II ]]

Despite all the warmth. Despite all the joy and progress they've all made.

Siffrin is still hiding something.

Back in purely Sif's POV, we find out there's much, much more to his condition than everyone realizes.

He struggles with keeping his masks in order, some of them popping up against his will. He doesn't have multiple personalities, but he is a bit more extreme with his personas. He tries to be Siffrin, the rogue, the traveler, the friend. But he's also Siffrin, who endured over a year stuck in a time loop, who aged what feels like eons, whose power now rivals a god's and can barely contain his extreme reactions to distress, to knowing or even thinking his family is in danger.

Sometimes, during a fight, he thinks a Sadness hit a friend a bit too hard–and he eviscerates it, gaze too dead and too cold and he can see the way his allies freeze up. Can see their uncertainty, their waiting fear (just like that time). Thankfully, he can shake it off once he notices they're safe, and they relax when he's “back to normal" easy enough.

But it isn't just battles when this can happen. Sometimes even doing the simplest most mundane thing can slowly slip the contentment off his face (even if he's still happy!), or habitually slip into masking too hard with unnervingly fake smiles. Sometimes he'll simply order some food only to find the shopkeep staring at him warily.

But that's okay. He's used to acting. His family tells him he doesn't need to do that, that he shouldn't hide anymore. But this isn't the same, is it? He really is happy, he's just covering up some weird muscle memory that'll disappear in time. This is a good thing, actually! He's being more honest this way! Right?

Like he's being “honest” about the Time and Wish Craft irrevocably etched into his soul now. He's not lying, he really does get Craft Sickness easily now! It's just. It's maybe not all coming from his “injury" of overusing Craft and nearly destroying the world. Not entirely. But that's part of it, so he's not lying!

(Lying by omission is still lying. Stupid. Useless. Don't you ever learn? When will you learn? Can you learn? Why do you keep repeating the same mistakes–)

They're not the same mistakes though! He's getting better at talking to his friends, letting them know when he needs help. He's changing he's changed too much go back go back go back just like they are!

He knows he needs to tell them if something big happens. And he will! He'd never get trapped in a another time loop and not trust them enough to avoid relying on them. He knows now how much it hurts to see a loved one shoulder so much pain when you can be there to help split the burden.

But what's going on is nothing. It's silly! It's just him being silly. There's no reason to tell them about something they'll probably get all worked up over when it's really not that big of a deal. Friends don't tell friends absolutely everything, they've all admitted as much too! Sometimes you do have to balance little white lies, little secrets. Pick and choose which battles to share, which to keep personal.

So it's really not that big of a deal! He's figuring out why his body still innately uses Time Craft sometimes and he rewinds the world a bit.

Okay. Okay that sounds so much worse than it is. Really! He's not stuck in a loop anymore, he doesn't rewind whole days. He'll just. Sometimes he'll get hurt, or really scared, or really upset and the world kinda. Blinks back a few minutes, or hours. Back before the thing that caused him distress.

They don't need to know about that. It's no big deal. Nothing has ever changed drastically anyway (Bonnie would have just gotten scuffed up falling down that hill, that stomach wound Odile sustained could have been easily healed, Isa would have recovered from a broken fractured leg, Mira could have dealt with that overzealous fan herself)

It wasn't like he watched them die again again again, he didn't die, the world wasn't ending. Everything was fine!

Did that weird cat just talk.

[Gameplay changes from here, traveling from town A to town B. There are still a lot of Sadness roaming about, you save a couple people, etc etc]

[[End of Act I]]

[GAMEPLAY DIFFERENCES]

Everything is the same, but has additional statuses now!

Buffs and debuffs have two levels, normal (1 level) and critical (2 levels)

In addition to HP, there's now distress (DL= distress level)

Distress increases with:

Battle duration

Damage taken (healing proportionally reverses this) (lower HP = bigger increase)

Allies getting hit with Criticals

Allies getting low on HP

New enemy attacks that inflict negative emotions

Distress decreases with:

Healing

Shields and buffs

New distress-specific items

New neutral Craft ability: Breathe

Resets to 0 after battle victory

Effects of distress:

When personal distress hits a certain percentage, allies gain certain debuffs and/or buffs (intentionally made to show stress can be beneficial, up to a point)

20%: ATK/DEF/ATKSPD up (1)

40%: ATK/ATKSPD up (1), DEF down critically (2) (most mob fights stop around here)

60%: ATK up (1), DEF/ATKSPD down critically (2)

80%: ATK/DEF/ATKSPD down critically (2)

100%: Cannot act. Essentially frozen, can only be decreased with specific items/skills or battle end.

Siffrin only:

As personal distress increases, the chance increases that Siffrin loses control of his strength, dealing massive damage 1.5x above a Critical, but at a cost. These are called Overclocked attack/Crafts (haha, get it?)

Overclocked attack: Hits all enemies and your party, lowering HP (including yourself)

Overclocked Craft: Increases both ally and enemy stress (including yourself)

80%: Act 5 Siffrin unlocked. Sprite permanently changed until distress is lowered under 50%. All attacks/Crafts are now Overclocked, and he only has DEF down critically. Allies gain distress 1.5x faster.

100%: Unleashes Wish Craft immediately (regardless of turn order), dealing massive damage to all enemies and allies, and brings HP down to 1. Gains special “Craft Sickness" status, where all stats are down critically for the remainder of the battle.

This state is Siffrin instinctively attempting to go full bigfrin, but non-fatally stabs themself to keep their mind grounded :)

(You eventually obtain equips and/or Craft skills that minimizes the backlash of Siffrin's Overclocked hits and Wish Craft, making it a viable strategy to intentionally distress him. This has an effect on the story! It's not healthy to burn yourself out to achieve more in life, stop that.)

And that's all I have for now! I'm not sure if/when I'll get the urge to finish things up, but I have a super rough draft. Can you guess what the weird talking cat is about? :) Teehee

#in stars and time #isat #isat spoilers #KASS AND RIN AND SUMMER AND KATIE AND NICKI. THAT MEANS DON'T FUCKING LOOK #zilly squeaks #if ur wondering how wind is important here. it's bc that's introduced in Act II and I haven't written it yet lmao #it has to do with traveling tho! :)

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eyrieofsynapses · 1 year ago

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why Aurora's art is genius

It's break for me, and I've been meaning to sit down and read the Aurora webcomic (https://comicaurora.com/, @comicaurora on Tumblr) for quite a bit. So I did that over the last few days.

And… y'know. I can't actually say "I should've read this earlier," because otherwise I would've been up at 2:30-3am when I had responsibilities in the morning and I couldn't have properly enjoyed it, but. Holy shit guys THIS COMIC.

I intended to just do a generalized "hello this is all the things I love about this story," and I wrote a paragraph or two about art style. …and then another. And another. And I realized I needed to actually reference things so I would stop being too vague. I was reading the comic on my tablet or phone, because I wanted to stay curled up in my chair, but I type at a big monitor and so I saw more details… aaaaaand it turned into its own giant-ass post.

SO. Enjoy a few thousand words of me nerding out about this insanely cool art style and how fucking gorgeous this comic is? (There are screenshots, I promise it isn't just a wall of text.) In my defense, I just spent two semesters in graphic design classes focusing on the Adobe Suite, so… I get to be a nerd about pretty things…???

All positive feedback btw! No downers here. <3

---

I cannot emphasize enough how much I love the beautiful, simple stylistic method of drawing characters and figures. It is absolutely stunning and effortless and utterly graceful—it is so hard to capture the sheer beauty and fluidity of the human form in such a fashion. Even a simple outline of a character feels dynamic! It's gorgeous!

Though I do have a love-hate relationship with this, because my artistic side looks at that lovely simplicity, goes "I CAN DO THAT!" and then I sit down and go to the paper and realize that no, in fact, I cannot do that yet, because that simplicity is born of a hell of a lot of practice and understanding of bodies and actually is really hard to do. It's a very developed style that only looks simple because the artist knows what they're doing. The human body is hard to pull off, and this comic does so beautifully and makes it look effortless.

Also: line weight line weight line weight. It's especially important in simplified shapes and figures like this, and hoo boy is it used excellently. It's especially apparent the newer the pages get—I love watching that improvement over time—but with simpler figures and lines, you get nice light lines to emphasize both smaller details, like in the draping of clothing and the curls of hair—which, hello, yes—and thicker lines to emphasize bigger and more important details and silhouettes. It's the sort of thing that's essential to most illustrations, but I wanted to make a note of it because it's so vital to this art style.

THE USE OF LAYER BLENDING MODES OH MY GODS. (...uhhh, apologies to the people who don't know what that means, it's a digital art program thing? This article explains it for beginners.)

Bear with me, I just finished my second Photoshop course, I spent months and months working on projects with this shit so I see the genius use of Screen and/or its siblings (of which there are many—if I say "Screen" here, assume I mean the entire umbrella of Screen blending modes and possibly Overlay) and go nuts, but seriously it's so clever and also fucking gorgeous:

Firstly: the use of screened-on sound effect words over an action? A "CRACK" written over a branch and then put on Screen in glowy green so that it's subtle enough that it doesn't disrupt the visual flow, but still sticks out enough to make itself heard? Little "scritches" that are transparent where they're laid on without outlines to emphasize the sound without disrupting the underlying image? FUCK YES. I haven't seen this done literally anywhere else—granted, I haven't read a massive amount of comics, but I've read enough—and it is so clever and I adore it. Examples:

Secondly: The beautiful lighting effects. The curling leaves, all the magic, the various glowing eyes, the fog, the way it's all so vividly colored but doesn't burn your eyeballs out—a balance that's way harder to achieve than you'd think—and the soft glows around them, eeeee it's so pretty so pretty SO PRETTY. Not sure if some of these are Outer/Inner Glow/Shadow layer effects or if it's entirely hand-drawn, but major kudos either way; I can see the beautiful use of blending modes and I SALUTE YOUR GENIUS.

I keep looking at some of this stuff and go "is that a layer effect or is it done by hand?" Because you can make some similar things with the Satin layer effect in Photoshop (I don't know if other programs have this? I'm gonna have to find out since I won't have access to PS for much longer ;-;) that resembles some of the swirly inner bits on some of the lit effects, but I'm not sure if it is that or not. Or you could mask over textures? There's... many ways to do it.

If done by hand: oh my gods the patience, how. If done with layer effects: really clever work that knows how to stop said effects from looking wonky, because ugh those things get temperamental. If done with a layer of texture that's been masked over: very, very good masking work. No matter the method, pretty shimmers and swirly bits inside the bigger pretty swirls!

Next: The way color contrast is used! I will never be over the glowy green-on-black Primordial Life vibes when Alinua gets dropped into that… unconscious space?? with Life, for example, and the sharp contrast of vines and crack and branches and leaves against pitch black is just visually stunning. The way the roots sink into the ground and the three-dimensional sensation of it is particularly badass here:

Friggin. How does this imply depth like that. HOW. IT'S SO FREAKING COOL.

A huge point here is also color language and use! Everybody has their own particular shade, generally matching their eyes, magic, and personality, and I adore how this is used to make it clear who's talking or who's doing an action. That was especially apparent to me with Dainix and Falst in the caves—their colors are both fairly warm, but quite distinct, and I love how this clarifies who's doing what in panels with a lot of action from both of them. There is a particular bit that stuck out to me, so I dug up the panels (see this page and the following one https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-30/):

(Gods it looks even prettier now that I put it against a plain background. Also, appreciation to Falst for managing a bridal-carry midair, damn.)

The way that their colors MERGE here! And the immense attention to detail in doing so—Dainix is higher up than Falst is in the first panel, so Dainix's orange fades into Falst's orange at the base. The next panel has gold up top and orange on bottom; we can't really tell in that panel where each of them are, but that's carried over to the next panel—

—where we now see that Falst's position is raised above Dainix's due to the way he's carrying him. (Points for continuity!) And, of course, we see the little "huffs" flowing from orange to yellow over their heads (where Dainix's head is higher than Falst's) to merge the sound of their breathing, which is absurdly clever because it emphasizes to the viewer how we hear two sets of huffing overlaying each other, not one. Absolutely brilliant.

(A few other notes of appreciation to that panel: beautiful glows around them, the sparks, the jagged silhouette of the spider legs, the lovely colors that have no right to make the area around a spider corpse that pretty, the excellent texturing on the cave walls plus perspective, the way Falst's movements imply Dainix's hefty weight, the natural posing of the characters, their on-point expressions that convey exactly how fuckin terrifying everything is right now, the slight glows to their eyes, and also they're just handsome boys <3)

Next up: Rain!!!! So well done! It's subtle enough that it never ever disrupts the impact of the focal point, but evident enough you can tell! And more importantly: THE MIST OFF THE CHARACTERS. Rain does this irl, it has that little vapor that comes off you and makes that little misty effect that plays with lighting, it's so cool-looking and here it's used to such pretty effect!

One of the panel captions says something about it blurring out all the injuries on the characters but like THAT AIN'T TOO BIG OF A PROBLEM when it gets across the environmental vibes, and also that'd be how it would look in real life too so like… outside viewer's angle is the same as the characters', mostly? my point is: that's the environment!!! that's the vibes, that's the feel! It gets it across and it does so in the most pretty way possible!

And another thing re: rain, the use of it to establish perspective, particularly in panels like this—

—where we can tell we're looking down at Tynan due to the perspective on the rain and where it's pointing. Excellent. (Also, kudos for looking down and emphasizing how Tynan's losing his advantage—lovely use of visual storytelling.)

Additionally, the misting here:

We see it most heavily in the leftmost panel, where it's quite foggy as you would expect in a rainstorm, especially in an environment with a lot of heat, but it's also lightly powdered on in the following two panels and tends to follow light sources, which makes complete sense given how light bounces off particles in the air.

A major point of strength in these too is a thorough understanding of lighting, like rim lighting, the various hues and shades, and an intricate understanding of how light bounces off surfaces even when they're in shadow (we'll see a faint glow in spots where characters are half in shadow, but that's how it would work in real life, because of how light bounces around).

Bringing some of these points together: the fluidity of the lines in magic, and the way simple glowing lines are used to emphasize motion and the magic itself, is deeply clever. I'm basically pulling at random from panels and there's definitely even better examples, but here's one (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-16-33/):

First panel, listed in numbers because these build on each other:

The tension of the lines in Tess's magic here. This works on a couple levels: first, the way she's holding her fists, as if she's pulling a rope taut.

The way there's one primary line, emphasizing the rope feeling, accompanied by smaller ones.

The additional lines starbursting around her hands, to indicate the energy crackling in her hands and how she's doing a good bit more than just holding it. (That combined with the fists suggests some tension to the magic, too.) Also the variations in brightness, a feature you'll find in actual lightning. :D Additional kudos for how the lightning sparks and breaks off the metal of the sword.

A handful of miscellaneous notes on the second panel:

The reflection of the flames in Erin's typically dark blue eyes (which bears a remarkable resemblance to Dainix, incidentally—almost a thematic sort of parallel given Erin's using the same magic Dainix specializes in?)

The flowing of fabric in the wind and associated variation in the lineart

The way Erin's tattoos interact with the fire he's pulling to his hand

The way the rain overlays some of the fainter areas of fire (attention! to! detail! hell yeah!)

I could go on. I won't because this is a lot of writing already.

Third panel gets paragraphs, not bullets:

Erin's giant-ass "FWOOM" of fire there, and the way the outline of the word is puffy-edged and gradated to feel almost three-dimensional, plus once again using Screen or a variation on it so that the stars show up in the background. All this against that stunning plume of fire, which ripples and sparks so gorgeously, and the ending "om" of the onomatopoeia is emphasized incredibly brightly against that, adding to the punch of it and making the plume feel even brighter.

Also, once again, rain helping establish perspective, especially in how it's very angular in the left side of the panel and then slowly becomes more like a point to the right to indicate it's falling directly down on the viewer. Add in the bright, beautiful glow effects, fainter but no less important black lines beneath them to emphasize the sky and smoke and the like, and the stunningly beautiful lighting and gradated glows surrounding Erin plus the lightning jagging up at him from below, and you get one hell of an impactful panel right there. (And there is definitely more in there I could break down, this is just a lot already.)

And in general: The colors in this? Incredible. The blues and purples and oranges and golds compliment so well, and it's all so rich.

Like, seriously, just throughout the whole comic, the use of gradients, blending modes, color balance and hues, all the things, all the things, it makes for the most beautiful effects and glows and such a rich environment. There's a very distinct style to this comic in its simplified backgrounds (which I recognize are done partly because it's way easier and also backgrounds are so time-consuming dear gods but lemme say this) and vivid, smoothly drawn characters; the simplicity lets them come to the front and gives room for those beautiful, richly saturated focal points, letting the stylized designs of the magic and characters shine. The use of distinct silhouettes is insanely good. Honestly, complex backgrounds might run the risk of making everything too visually busy in this case. It's just, augh, so GORGEOUS.

Another bit, take a look at this page (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-15-28/):

It's not quite as evident here as it is in the next page, but this one does some other fun things so I'm grabbing it. Points:

Once again, using different colors to represent different character actions. The "WHAM" of Kendal hitting the ground is caused by Dainix's force, so it's orange (and kudos for doubling the word over to add a shake effect). But we see blue layered underneath, which could be an environmental choice, but might also be because it's Kendal, whose color is blue.

And speaking off, take a look at the right-most panel on top, where Kendal grabs the spear: his motion is, again, illustrated in bright blue, versus the atmospheric screened-on orange lines that point toward him around the whole panel (I'm sure these have a name, I think they might be more of a manga thing though and the only experience I have in manga is reading a bit of Fullmetal Alchemist). Those lines emphasize the weight of the spear being shoved at him, and their color tells us Dainix is responsible for it.

One of my all-time favorite effects in this comic is the way cracks manifest across Dainix's body to represent when he starts to lose control; it is utterly gorgeous and wonderfully thematic. These are more evident in the page before and after this one, but you get a decent idea here. I love the way they glow softly, the way the fire juuuust flickers through at the start and then becomes more evident over time, and the cracks feel so realistic, like his skin is made of pottery. Additional points for how fire begins to creep into his hair.

A small detail that's generally consistent across the comic, but which I want to make note of here because you can see it pretty well: Kendal's eyes glow about the same as the jewel in his sword, mirroring his connection to said sword and calling back to how the jewel became Vash's eye temporarily and thus was once Kendal's eye. You can always see this connection (though there might be some spots where this also changes in a symbolic manner; I went through it quickly on the first time around, so I'll pay more attention when I inevitably reread this), where Kendal's always got that little shine of blue in his eyes the same as the jewel. It's a beautiful visual parallel that encourages the reader to subconsciously link them together, especially since the lines used to illustrate character movements typically mirror their eye color. It's an extension of Kendal.

Did I mention how ABSOLUTELY BEAUTIFUL the colors in this are?

Also, the mythological/legend-type scenes are illustrated in familiar style often used for that type of story, a simple and heavily symbolic two-dimensional cave-painting-like look. They are absolutely beautiful on many levels, employing simple, lovely gradients, slightly rougher and thicker lineart that is nonetheless smoothly beautiful, and working with clear silhouettes (a major strength of this art style, but also a strength in the comic overall). But in particular, I wanted to call attention to a particular thing (see this page https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-12-4/):

The flowing symbolic lineart surrounding each character. This is actually quite consistent across characters—see also Life's typical lines and how they curl:

What's particularly interesting here is how these symbols are often similar, but not the same. Vash's lines are always smooth, clean curls, often playing off each other and echoing one another like ripples in a pond. You'd think they'd look too similar to Life's—but they don't. Life's curl like vines, and they remain connected; where one curve might echo another but exist entirely detached from each other in Vash's, Life's lines still remain wound together, because vines are continuous and don't float around. :P

Tahraim's are less continuous, often breaking up with significantly smaller bits and pieces floating around like—of course—sparks, and come to sharper points. These are also constants: we see the vines repeated over and over in Alinua's dreams of Life, and the echoing ripples of Vash are consistent wherever we encounter him. Kendal's dream of the ghost citizens of the city of Vash in the last few chapters is filled with these rippling, echoing patterns, to beautiful effect (https://comicaurora.com/aurora/1-20-14/):

They ripple and spiral, often in long, sinuous curves, with smooth elegance. It reminds me a great deal of images of space and sine waves and the like. This establishes a definite feel to these different characters and their magic. And the thing is, that's not something that had to be done—the colors are good at emphasizing who's who. But it was done, and it adds a whole other dimension to the story. Whenever you're in a deity's domain, you know whose it is no matter the color.

Regarding that shape language, I wanted to make another note, too—Vash is sometimes described as chaotic and doing what he likes, which is interesting to me, because smooth, elegant curves and the color blue aren't generally associated with chaos. So while Vash might behave like that on the surface, I'm guessing he's got a lot more going on underneath; he's probably much more intentional in his actions than you'd think at a glance, and he is certainly quite caring with his city. The other thing is that this suits Kendal perfectly. He's a paragon character; he is kind, virtuous, and self-sacrificing, and often we see him aiming to calm others and keep them safe. Blue is such a good color for him. There is… probably more to this, but I'm not deep enough in yet to say.

And here's the thing: I'm only scratching the surface. There is so much more here I'm not covering (color palettes! outfits! character design! environment! the deities! so much more!) and a lot more I can't cover, because I don't have the experience; this is me as a hobbyist artist who happened to take a couple design classes because I wanted to. The art style to this comic is so clever and creative and beautiful, though, I just had to go off about it. <3

...brownie points for getting all the way down here? Have a cookie.

#aurora comic #aurora webcomic #comicaurora #art analysis #...I hope those are the right tags???#new fandom new tagging practices to learn ig #much thanks for something to read while I try to rest my wrists. carpal tunnel BAD. (ignore that I wrote this I've got braces ok it's fine)#anyway! I HAVE. MANY MORE THOUGHTS. ON THE STORY ITSELF. THIS LOVELY STORY #also a collection of reactions to a chunk of the comic before I hit the point where I was too busy reading to write anything down #idk how to format those tho #...yeet them into one post...???#eh I usually don't go off this much these days but this seems like a smaller tight-knit fandom so... might as well help build it?#and I have a little more time thanks to break so #oh yes also shoutout to my insanely awesome professor for teaching me all the technical stuff from this he is LOVELY #made an incredibly complex program into something comprehensible <3 #synapse talks

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katakaluptastrophy · 2 months ago

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Do you have any opinions on the differences between binaries of necro/cav and adept/non-adept?

Specifically, I'm thinking about Abigail and Magnus's relationship: when married they were simply adept and non-adept, and despite the class difference seem to have been operating as equal partners. But once they became necromancer and cavalier, the expectation becomes such that Magnus is expected to sacrifice himself for Abigail if that's necessary.

Now that I think about it, perhaps this is Muir's way of describing the gender binary and marriage when coverture is legally applicable: a necromantic adept is always considered their own person, but a non-adept is only a separate person until becoming a cavalier (i.e. getting married), at which point they become ancillary to the necromancer. Hmm.

This is one of those topics that has me rattling the bars of my cage begging Tamsyn for more details about cavaliership as an institution and about aptitude in society.

Because what does this stuff actually look like?

John says "only" a third of the new Ninth will have aptitude, suggesting that the typical rate is somewhat higher. So let's say a third to half of the population have aptitude, and that seems to be effectively random.

We only see the scions of the ruling families of the Houses and the original Lyctors in the context of cavaliership. Most of the non-aptitude Housers that we meet are cavaliers, and think this can sometimes lead to an elision of non-aptitude and cavalier that may not exist. Does every necromancer have a cavalier? That seems unlikely - in the general population there must be necromancers working in all sorts of mundane jobs for which having someone follow you around with a sword would be impractical. M. Bias mentions 'frontline cavalier units' alongside 'the classic cavalier' paired with a Cohort necromancer, and sets both against 'the social cavalier' attached to the necromantic elites. Perhaps he simply doesn't see Jeff the Health and Safety cav who follows Millicent the necromantically lab grown meat tech around as worthy of the name, or perhaps cavaliership only exists as a formal, marriage-like institution within the Cohort and the leaders of the Houses. Amongst House leadership, there has likely always been a fairly significant overlap with the Cohort (leaving aside the Second, consider Isaac and Jean, or Abigail's admiral grandfather), and cavaliership here may also have been intended to echo the Lyctors who founded the Houses. But presumably amongst civilians, there are plenty of non-adepts who have nothing to do with cavaliership proper (though I'm fascinated by the idea of how the concept might function unofficially or ceremonially).

But even if we assume that most non-adepts aren't cavaliers per se, that still raises questions about the status of non-adepts. The Sermon on Cavaliers and Necromancers gives us a glimpse of some of the theology of the Houses, in which "'one flesh' is the underpinning of our whole Empire" and in which parents go to great lengths to give their baby the chance of developing aptitude. Why? Because "our necromantic characteristics make us more like the Emperor." That is, to have aptitude means one is more in the image of god. I shan't go on a digression about early church debates about whether women are made in the image of God in the same way as men, but as you can imagine, given that the Sermon is basically just Ephesians 5's discussion of gender re-skinned for aptitude, this raises a question about just how non-aptitude Housers sit in society.

There's clearly also an extent to which non-aptitude Housers may find themselves in a state of assumed cavaliership long before they ever swear vows. There are cavalier families, where to be born without aptitude means you are already all but promised to the next adept of the corresponding line. Magnus undertook something that is described as "cavalier training" during his schooldays - is this simply a reference to the education of a young, socially privileged person involving some degree of swordsmanship as a matter of course? His attempt to join the army at 18 seems to have been somewhat anomalous, so he can't just have been planning a glorious Cohort career. (What does education look like for a population where slightly less than half of people are death wizards?). How much choice did someone like Magnus have about his schoolboy cavalier training? How much choice does someone who lacks both aptitude and the kind of privilege that leads to you marrying the scion of the Koniortos Court have about anything that might be described as "cavalier training"? How much of standard education in the Houses is designed to filter large segments of the population towards the Cohort anyway?

There's also the few glimpses we get of BoE's perception of the status of non-aptitude Housers, which doesn't seem to be great. Judith and Corona may laugh off their assumption that necromancers have large harems of not-always-entirely-alive non-aptitude House citizens, but you do get the sense that if Magnus had lived to fall into BoE hands, he might have been rather pressed to explain that his relationship with his necromancer/feudal lady/wife was entirely consensual.

I think you're absolutely right about there being a shift in the status of a non-adept who becomes a cavalier. What's not clear is whether making cavalier vows leads to an actual change of legal status, in terms of a diminishment of legal rights as in coverture marriage, or whether it functions only within the realms of social pressure and custom. People often point to Abigail and Magnus' cavaliership as an example of the institution being done 'well' or 'properly', because the institution itself seems to be incidental to their relationship - while we don't know their motivations, you suspect this was simply a convenient way for them to continue collaborating as they did in every other aspect of their life. We don't know whether Magnus in some way forfeited aspects of his legal personhood in becoming Abigail's cavalier. Perhaps they felt it didn't matter because of the way they were inhabiting that relationship. But their attitude didn't change the fact that in the end, Magnus died, sword in hand, having just watched his wife be murdered, because he was her cavalier.

#the locked tomb #tlt meta #abigail pent #magnus quinn

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artbydungeon · 2 months ago

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Praise be to the grill!!!

Happy Calibration @paint-lady! I was very excited by your open brief for the God of the Grill. They sound fantastic and I very much got carried away with creating this. If you’re interested in the process and some WIP images, continue reading below the cut. And as always - thank you @shiftingpath for hosting the Exalted Secret Santa art exchange.

So I actually did quite a lot of research to get here. I started off looking for deities I could draw inspiration from. I had Hestia in my brain, as Goddess of the hearth, but I didn’t really want to go the Greek pantheon way this time. I ended up finding Kojin, a Japanese God of the hearth and deity of the cooking range. The sentiment of taking something dangerous like fire, and using it for the good of humanity, felt like such a strong vibe and I wanted to apply it to the God of the Grill. So Kojin was my starting point.

Kojin has 8 heads and 4-6 arms, which looks awesome, but also was something I didn’t want to just copy without there being any meaning behind it. I figured since the God of the Grill isn’t a powerful God, he could stick with 2 arms. As for the number of heads, I liked the idea of 5 - one for each direction of Creation. I reasoned that 4 of those heads could be a more human-look for the God, each reminiscent of one of the 4 threshold directions (and it also leaves the door open for him to have many other faces!). The 5th look I wanted to be his God form, and I wanted to make sure that it used fire in some way.

I tried a few different things with the heads, but I wasn’t liking anything. I ended up putting the other heads on his body as faces, like little gemstones instead of fancy jewelry. This felt like something which fit my style more and less like an existing deity squeezed into this idea. It was during this time as well I wanted to dress the God of the Grill in a South of Creation style, and I looked into the big glam energies of Bollywood for more style inspiration.

Finally, I wanted to add a few less human-like elements as paint-lady mentioned in the journal post that the God should reflect their charge. So details like the coal on the chest and the hair billowing like smoke came in. Being a foodie, I imagined this God would be on the plus side body wise, so I also took a bit of a swerve back into Japanese references and looked at some sumo wrestlers to try and get the bod type I was searching for in a reference.

Now that I’d actually got the character design down - it was time to actually do the piece! I settled on a simple floating pose because I live for those when it comes to beings with essence, and surrounded the God deliciousness.

Here's the WIP images of the final piece:

And that's everything! I hope you like what I did with this character!!

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kenzan-brainrot-mp4 · 4 days ago

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Idk more random small details about the pyih ending that make me insane because I can't shut up about this stupid game:

Idk how deliberate this was from the translation team (and I have my own mixed feelings about the caption translations from more recent rgg games) but I really like the (potentially unintentional) double-meaning from Saejima saying "Guys our age are supposed to be smart enough not to go chasin' legends." You'd think that because the entire conversation revolves around and constantly repeats the words "dream/yume" (cough cough Yakuza 5) he'd say "not to go chasin' dreams", but I think by using the word "legend" instead he's able to refer to not only the legend of the treasure that everyone's been pursuing the whole game, but also the living legend himself, Kiryu Kazuma (in jp and eng he is referred to very often as a legend/legendary ("densetsu no ryuu/yakuza" - "legendary dragon/yakuza")). Not only was Majima chasing after the legend of some miracle treasure but he's also been chasing the "legend" that is Kiryu himself (something something idolization, something something Majima always wanting to bring back that strength and vitality Kiryu had at the peak of his "legend" days (see: yakuza 1 with Majima trying to fight Kiryu constantly to help him regain his strength, trying to especially hard to support him since yakuza 3), even as the chance of that happening dwindles, even if reality is literally telling him to his face that they can't go back to those days, that everyone's getting older and not what they used to be). Which imo makes Majima saying "Well, still just a dream in the end." all the more heartbreaking. It's resigned, not only to the fact that he'd never find that miracle fix to save Kiryu's life but also the fact that he can't, no matter how hard he tries, keep Kiryu around forever, that he can't keep up the image of the legendary Dragon of Dojima up for him forever. Idk I just think that was very cool and sneaky as hell if intentional, especially since they don't switch out the word "dream" for "legend" anywhere else in the conversation.

Saejima mentioning how Daigo said "Majima's runnin' around like he's forty again". Okay honestly I'm just putting this because I think it's funny that even while Daigo was going through his emo era and pissed off at Kiryu for "killing" his dad, he still remembers how enthusiastic/energetic Majima was over Kiryu all the way back in ~y1, even though we never saw him in that game. I mean it's painful as hell to think about now, considering the present day in-universe and what would end up becoming of that enthusiasm as the years went on but uh, hey.

Majima being so god damn deflective while Saejima's in the middle of revealing all his motivations for going to Hawaii. He says 3 whole lines during that part of the cutscene but it's all so Majima-like it hurts (this part's gonna be Long):

• "Told him that, huh?" (responding to Saejima recounting what Majima told Shigaki about not wanting to go to Hawaii) - Majima trying to act nonchalant/aloof while knowing what Saejima's about to start bringing up, trying to act that way even though we all know damn well that he remembers perfectly (and probably painfully) well how he acted/what he said before going to Hawaii, considering the circumstances surrounding the whole situation. His body language also starts to change from here; he turns his head to look directly at Saejima when talking to him less often, spends more time looking ahead/up/down/avoiding direct eye contact in general even when Saejima turns to look him while speaking multiple times/for prolonged periods of time (istg I could talk about Majima's body language in serious moments like these literally forever but I'll try to keep it brief) • "Kid's always been a ball breaker" (lmao) - Paired with the line before this one (Daigo's reaction to Majima). He tries to sidestep the actual point of mentioning what Daigo said, (directly exposing just how much Majima changes when Kiryu is around/involved) with feigned exasperation, and once again does not actually acknowledge Saejima's point. His body language also changes again to something more restless; (adjusts his posture from the previously relaxed way he was leaning against the car, looks away from Saejima completely, starts tapping his foot/bouncing his leg, lifting his cigarette without actually taking a drag from it) • And then of course the big one: "Well, still just a dream in the end. Stupid or not." Up until this point, Majima hasn't said anything of any actual substance until Saejima directly namedrops Kiryu. It's about the most he actually says of any worth regarding his feelings towards Kiryu himself, but that line alone reveals so much about his feelings not only in that moment, but likely the feelings he's had throughout the series towards Kiryu. It's totally unfiltered, for once, showing off his resignation from not only his inability to help Kiryu by the end of this game but likely also the weight of chasing after Kiryu all these years (again, "Guys our age are supposed to be smart enough not to go chasin' legends." Cue Majima always chasing after Kiryu/what Kiryu wants for literal decades). It's a Singular straight answer after two deflections but it says so damn much, especially coming from Majima himself. • I also just wanna note the quick range of expressions Majima's face goes through when Saejima says "Yeah, too bad about that 'elixir of eternal life.'"

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Apart from the different expressions he makes themselves, I think it's so fucking interesting (read: painful) how this occurs when Saejima (who, by the way, is at that moment not looking at Majima) is technically supposed to be the one that the player's eyes are focused on in that moment, since he's the one speaking. The camera doesn't try to manipulate the focus of the shot to hide Majima's expressions/feelings, they don't cut him out of the frame, they don't actually do anything to directly hide Majima's face at all, but most people (including Saejima himself) would miss this regardless, because it's done in a moment where, theoretically, nobody would or should be looking. Hell, even when the camera gives us a Direct close-up shot of Majima's face when Saejima mentions Kiryu ("Kazuma Kiryu. You never could give up on that one.") his expression doesn't betray too much of how he feels, but it's only once focus is finally taken away from him that he becomes most expressive. (rgg has always been so good with showing off characters' feelings with microexpressions and I feel like this applies to Majima especially. the same kind of thing happened in y0 when he saw Makoto at the end of the game (another scene that I could analyze for hours). The times when he doesn't speak and just. Reacts subtly and potentially subconciously with his face are ironically some of the moments where he says the most about himself. Go off king don't openly express your thoughts or feelings at all 🔥🔥🔥) • And then after all that (when Saejima looks at Majima again) Majima changes the topic to Noah. You could argue that Saejima, with bringing everything before that up, was trying to open up the opportunity for discussion on Majima's part about his behavior/feelings towards Kiryu, however this was largely unsuccessful. He only succeeds in this when he finally just says Kiryu's name outright (which, by the way, surprised me so much when I first watched the cutscene. I thought they were going to keep dancing around saying Kiryu's name directly/only implying him for the rest of that conversation, but I straight up gasped when Saejima said his whole name like that. It was significant, and Saejima wanted it to be, too), and even then that success is only marginal. It's enough for Majima to finally give away one of his "real" thoughts, completely unfiltered, about as straightforward as it's gonna get, just Once in that whole part of their conversation, but after that he immediately goes to pivot the topic of the conversation to something else. Which like, damn. Damn. That's pretty crazy.

The final detail I wanna mention, (this one I think mostly everyone got) was the way that Majima repeats his line from the beginning of the game "Where do I begin? That's right… (etc)." I love how they decided to have Majima say that line again differently, because the differences say so much. The version from the beginning of the game is said in a deeper more "intimidating" tone. The whole point of it is for story-telling drama, the theatrics, specifically to entertain/pique the interest of an audience, but the way he says it to Kiryu is much more easy-going and authentic. Ironically, it's once he leaves the player's sights and once he's with Kiryu that he discards the theatrics, where he simply shows off his fully genuine self re-telling the story. (One thing I will note is that the eng sub/dub translated that line so it would be different in the beginning and end ("Alright -- let's set things straight." (to player) -> "Where do I begin? That's right." (to Kiryu) even though he says the same thing twice in the japanese audio. I know that this is so that they can match up Majima's audio with his animations in the english dub, and they reuse the eng dub captions even for the japanese dub, and while I do not neccessarily. Like that. It does hammer in the tone difference between the way he speaks to the player vs. to Kiryu further (again, trying to be more intimidating vs. more easy going), which is an okay consolation if nothing else). I just think it's crazy to hear him talk like that with Kiryu after all this time, considering that he usually only talks this directly with Kiryu in fleeting moments. No high-pitched voice/fluctuating tones, no "Yo, Kiryu-chan", just being straightforward and to the point. Man. God.

It's been 4 days since I beat this game and everytime I see someone post about it or think about it for more than 10 seconds I die and explode into a million pieces. At some point I want to 100% this game so I can get as much dialogue/as many details as possible (also the game's just really fun lol), but for now I am just rotating this cutscene in my head forever and ever in an endless cycle. I am so sorry for posting about this game like everyday but I am so unwell over it it's not even funny I hope you can forgive me </333

#yakuza #rgg #ryu ga gotoku #like a dragon pirate yakuza in hawaii #pirate yakuza in hawaii #pyih #pirate yakuza spoilers #man i still don't know what tags to use for this game there's too many #majima goro #txt #feeling extremely physically unwell (i am fucking Dying) so i am channeling that into mental unwellness through this game instead <333 #this is probably all obvious but like you know what i don't even care these details still make me SICK and majima makes me SICK augh #i think i'm still undergoing shock #can't believe touto hospital made yakuza yaoi history Twice and the people working there don't even know it. Crazy #anyways if you have any other thoughts or things you noticed let me know :)))#that or tell me to Please stop yapping i'll accept either honestly #sorry i'm extremely normal about this game. Clearly orz #certified yap sessions

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noneorother · 1 year ago

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Oh my god, season 2 is The Tales of Crowley Hoffmann

I guess this has to be a series now too. Part 1 l Part 2

When Aziraphale wants to perform a show-stopping magic trick in S2E4, he is shown the "Professor's Nightmare," a rope trick, and references "Prof Hoff himself" at the end of the minisode.

Because we love double meanings so much around here, I decided to actually watch the Powell & Pressburger epic opera film "The Tales of Hoffmann," assuming it was the another P&P easter egg and the other Hoffmann (not the magician) that was being referenced.

One, this movie is unhinged. Two, this season IS The Tales of Hoffmann. Allow me to explain...

There are shot for shot quotes literally everywhere throughout the season.

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Automaton Ball) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Ball"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Hoffmann watches Stella perform) & Good Omens Season 2 "The one with the zombies"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Clerk in Automaton Ball) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Ball"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Antonia, Hoffman & Antonia) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Clue Crowley & Aziraphale"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Prologue) & Good Omens Season 2 "The one with the Zombies"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Giulietta Banquet scene) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Clue Banquet scene" *By the way Hoffmann wears a goatee for this tale

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Prologue "Dragonfly dance") & Good Omens Season 2 Prologue "Before the Beginning" *This is Stella and un unknown devil drangonfly, NOT Hoffmann

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Antonia) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Clue"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Tale of Antonia) & Good Omens Season 2 "The one with the Zombies"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (Automaton Ball) & Good Omens Season 2 "The Ball"

P&P The Tales of Hoffmann (End credits through Hoffman's glasses) & Good Omens Season 2 end credit scene.

Stella & Aziraphale. This one makes me laugh.

There are SO MANY MORE, but tumblr has an image limit. Seriously, it's nuts.

2. It seems simple and straightforward, but it's not at all

" Why would ambitious filmmakers simply film an opera? Many admirers of the work of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger have assumed that their decision to make The Tales of Hoffmann (...) was in some way an admission(...) that they couldn’t go on making their edgy, over-the-top melodramas after the rejection and interference they’d suffered (but) there’s a case for considering The Tales of Hoffmann as one of the finest and boldest works that Powell and Pressburger produced, so far ahead of its time as a wholly “composed” film, combining visual and musical elements, that it has still not been fully appreciated... Late in his life, Powell himself said that he thought it was one of the best films that he and Pressburger had made. What makes the film so remarkable is a series of paradoxes: the fact that it virtually reinvented the freedom and fantasy of silent cinema while making full use of Technicolor and a stellar cast of dancers and singers..." - Criterion, The lives of marionettes

3. The structure of the story is the same as the show

Here is the story of the Movie** (Not really the Opera that inspired it) In the prologue, we see the dance of the dragonflies onstage at a ballet. Count Lindoff (very bad dude) is spying on both the principal dancer Stella, and the audience member Hoffmann (who's admiring her). Lindoff is behind the scenery. During her dance, Stella passes a love note to her assistant for Hoffmann. The bad dude intercepts it out of jealousy. During the intermission, Hoffmann goes down to the tavern next door, watched by his sort of buddy in red, Nicklaus. People ask him to tell stories to while away the time, and so he tells 3 stories (actually four but we'll get back to that).

We launch into 3 tales/minisodes in other times and places : 1. The Tale of the Ball of the Automaton where he falls in love with a robot. He is humiliated. 2. The tale of Venice (Giulietta) where he falls in love with a courtesan/double agent who crosses him. 3. The tale of Antonia, where he falls in love with a girl who feels trapped by her living dad, her dead mom and a mysterious bad dude (Lindoff). She is murdered in a ring of fire, but becomes a ghost and is resurrected and sent back to earth. At the end, we snap back to the tavern in the real world. Hoffmann reveals that these three women are all metaphors for how he feels about Stella, his true love. He's drunk and depressed now, thinking she never sent for him after the show. Stella arrives in the tavern looking for Hoffmann, ready to run away, but now accompanied by Lindoff (dressed as an angelic figure) who followed her. She looks to Hoffmann to save her, but he's too blinded by the fact that he doesn't think she loves him back to pick up on the signal. He gives up, and she goes back up the stairs guided by Lindoff. Her assistant (who was bribed by Lindoff at the beginning) is given the go ahead by Lindoff to go back to the tavern and taker over. They close the door to the tavern, while she walks up ethereal stairs with the bad dude. THE END.

The one story that doesn't fit into the minisodes and is told in the real world is Kleinzach. We understand by the end of this one that this is Hoffmann's self loathing about never being good enough for Stella, because Stella is perfect and Hoffmann is ugly and deformed. The main love interest attempts to steal Kleinzach's essence through a mirror by the end. 4. Powell & Pressburger recast four actors in new roles In The Tales of Hoffmann, P&P decided to recast four of the principal actors/dancers from the film The Red Shoes in new roles, wanting to recreate the magic that they brought to the first ballet film. Sound familiar?

5. Crowley is Hoffmann

"The Tales of Hoffmann" original 1881 costume concept for Hoffmann & Crowley costume sketch for S2E3 1827 Edinburgh. Glasses are a really important aspect for Hoffmann in both the opera and the movie versions of The Tales of Hoffmann. Hoffmann is gifted metaphorical magic glasses that he wears to be able to perceive his love in a way they aren't really in real life. In the opera, he wears dark glasses to shut out the real world, not just as a metaphor. Check out a modern day version of the opera's Hoffmann costume :

He's french and slamming a beer but you get it. Crowley also canonically loves watching movies. It would make so much sense that his minisode recountings with him and Aziraphale would resemble different styles of movie that he loves. Seeing as we see him drive away at the end as the last character, an argument could be made for him being the ultimate narrator of the story in season 2.

6. The original American release of The Tales of Hoffman had 14ish minutes cut out of it by the studio. So we all know by now that whole debacle about having the clocks jump 14-15ish minutes during the kiss?

"The Tales of Hoffmann found an audience far wider than expected, despite Korda’s misgivings about the movie’s running time and his decision to cut 14 minutes out of the film for its American release." - Criterion, The Tales of Hoffman

I have been unable to unearth what the difference between the American & British versions of the P&P Tales of Hoffmann is, if you know let ME know. I want to know! _____________________________________

And I HAVE SO MUCH MORE. This is long enough already so I'll save the more detailed stuff for a new post.

**The opera is a whole other beast. You can read about it here, but basically there's a lot more going on in the opera because the composer died before finishing it, and multiple versions exist after the original uncompleted score got lost IN A FIRE. Anyway. Here's part 2

#good omens meta #good omens season two #art director talks good omens #go season 2 #good omens 2 #go meta #good omens season 2 #go2 #crowley x aziraphale #anthony j crowley #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley and aziraphale

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ruibaozha · 1 year ago

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The Inconsistency of Nezha's Age, a Short Introduction.

Put very bluntly, Nezha’s age varies greatly depending on which story you’re reading and who’s retold it. He is not always a child or an adult depending on retelling, though my intention here is to highlight the sheer variety available first and foremost - and perhaps shine a light on the Indian dieties which may have influenced him. If these varied images are unwanted, please keep scrolling.

I happened to stumble upon a timeline error where Nezha’s brother Muzha is described to be using martial arts weapons referred to as “Hooks of Wu” which were specific to the 1800s, quite a long time after Canonization of the Gods was published, but also originating from a time period where numerous varied editions of that story were in circulation. Upwards of twenty different versions exclusive to the 19th century, actually.

The problem arises that Canonization of the Gods is meant to be occurring during the Zhou Shang conflict, that I will generously assume to be in 1045BCE, centuries before the Hooks of Wu would actually exist. It’s completely possible that the version Gu Zhizhong translated was one of these later editions as is makes no chronological sense for Muzha to have those kinds of weapons to begin with. So I have been on somewhat of a rabbit chase trying to pin down the edition Gu Zhizhong used.

Bearing such errors in mind, it’s easy to see where the confusion of Nezha’s age can come from. Before his origin story was integrated within Canonization of the Gods he would be roughly three to seven days old when his conflict with Ao Guang and the Lady Rock Demoness would occur - whereas within Canonization of the Gods he’s actually 6 or 7 years old.

Outside of that, a definitive age isn’t actually provided. Genuinely, within the scope of Chinese folklore and mythos it’s very rare to assign someone an exact age - which I do believe contributed heavily to the known discourse surrounding Nezha’s age to begin with.

He was imported as an adult from India, a child form not seeming to exist for a while until stories of Krsna were integrated to how the Chinese envisioned Nalakubara. Krsna, being an infantile disguise for the notorious Vishnu, also displays supernatural human strength and is actually successful in killing his father figure (1) — unlike Nezha.

As children, both Krsna and Nezha are able to wield heavenly bows and subjugate water spirits (2) while also being known to be dragon tamers (3). The inclusion of these stories to Nezha predates the sculpting of the Quanzhou Pagoda’s (which have been discussed briefly here) and are arguably the earliest evidence of Nezha being a dragon tamer.

Speculatively a child god combination of both Nalakubara and Krsna named Nana is likely where a majority of Nezha’s child attributes come from, based in the Scripture of the Supreme Secrets of Nana Deva - which would see translations within China during the Northern Song period of 960AD-1127AD. Nana would be described thus:

At that time there was a Deva called Nana. His appearance was exceptionally handsome, and his face beamed with a gentle smile. He was holding the sun, the moon, and various weapons. His numerous treasures and abundant jewelry shone more brightly than the sun and the moon. He made himself a luoye robe (4) from the dragons Nanda and Upananda, and a belt from the dragon Taksaka (5). He possessed the same strength as Narayana (i.e. Visnu). He too came to the assembly and sat down facing the Buddha … At that time the Buddha emanated great light from his dharma body of meditation. The light covered the entire Buddha Universe, reaching all the great evil yaksas, the various types of raksasas and pisacas (6) and all the evil dragons as far as the heavenly constellations. When the Buddhas light shone upon them they all awoke to the truth. The Buddhas light returned to him and, after encircling him three times, entered his head. It then reissued in seven colors from his brow, entering Nana-Deva’s head. When the Buddha light penetrated his head, Nana Deva displayed an enormous body like Mt. Sumeru. His facial expression alternated between terrifying anger and a broad smile. He had a thousand arms, and he was holding a skull (7) and numerous weapons. He was handsomely adorned with a tiger skin robe and skulls. [Mightily Strong] He emanated blazing light and terrifying strength. When Nana Deva displayed this divine body, the great earth shook, and all who beheld him were terrified.

Both Nana and Nezha share the same residence of Vaisravana’s palace, are known dragon tamers, and both were known to use belts. The Supreme Secrets of Nana Deva predate all known connections between Nezha and dragons, perhaps lending to Nezha many more elements than initially believed.

Though without concrete evidence stating one way or another, I can only present this information speculatively - especially as it seems difficult for some to understand that Nezha does enjoy a known adult and child form. This answer has already become quite long, so if there’s still confusion regarding this please feel free to ask for more details.

Bibliography:

(1) Goldman, “Fathers, Sons and Gurus,” pp.350, 364; Masson, “Childhood of Krsna”; Ramanujan, “The Indian ‘Oedipus’”; Silk, Riven by Lust, pp. 164-170.

(2) Harley, “Krishna’s Cosmic Victories”; Matchett, “Taming of Kaliya”.

(3) It’s worth comparing Matchett’s “Taming of Kaliya” p.116 with Canonization of the Gods 12.103. Nezha is five days old within the Ming era Sanjiao yuanliu shengdi fozu sou shen daquan, p. 326.

(4) Luoye is the Chinese term for a garment Indian men tied under the armpit, leaving their right shoulder bare. See Xuanzang, Da Tang Xiyu ji, T. 2087, 51: 876b, and Li Rongxi’s translation, Great Tang Dynasty Record, p.53.

(5) Nanda, Upananda, and Taksaka appear in various Buddhist lists of the eight dragon kings; see Foguang da cidian, pp. 6378,6405.

(6) The rakasas and pisacas are two types of Hindu ogres, who Buddhists demonology incorporated. Both types feed on human flesh. See Foguang da cidian, pp6673-6674 and 3851; Monier-Williams, A Sanskrit-English dictionary, pp. 871 and 628; and Strickman’s survey of Buddhist demonology in his Chinese Magical Medicine, pp. 62-68.

(7) Geboluo appears frequently within the contemporaneous Chinese translation of the Hevajra Tantra (Foshuo dabeikong zhi jin’guang dajiaowang yigui jing), no. 892 volume 18: 587-601.

(8) Zuishang mimi Nana tian jing, no. 1288, 21:358b-c. hi

#nezha #li nezha #lmk nezha #monkie kid nezha #the legend of nezha #nezha 2019 #nezha reborn #nezha lego monkie kid #third lotus prince #lego monkie kid

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cconfusedkat · 2 months ago

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For another few decent weeks, I had been thinking abt Wilt's bishops,, and how I wanted them to look. Soooo over the past week, as well as pmv planning, I came up with a few things for the rest of the four :>ccc

This would be pre-betrayal, way before Wilt killed their siblings rather than,, just injuring them! No good deed! Ouch

Wilt had slowly become a spider everyone learned to fear by instinct. They had more members in their war cult compared to the other four—speeeaaaaking of cults, the only cult that didn't exist in Goat's world is the death cult! Instead, the purple crown of wisdom was given to Thanatos (a.k.a Narinder , puprinder if you will :>c for months i wanted to make a german spitz lol-)

Nowwww obligatory warning image ；

Hi! Hi. We good. Are we good now. Are you still okay with suicide and graphic death details . Let's continue 🎊

Their deaths were erased off the og two images up- but yeah, instead of leaving the four with injuries, they went with the full kill option,,, attempting to prove their worth as a god of war? Which? They SHOULDNT have since being a god AND monarch was already plentiful for them???? But hey i guess thats just how mental illness operates and passes down onto you

Ive yet to draw a proper thing for how thanatos. like. Laid there on his wooden bed with a carved skull. That was when i kept him as a cat but i changed my mind two days ago, and, well, here we are- hes a dog now-

Im about 50 seconds into the pmv so i dont have All the things i want to share from my brain! However without spoiling too much-

Wilt clearly did regret murdering their siblings after a while in Purgatory. This isnt them in Purgatory to clarify, as purgatory is a bright & neon orange and full of clouds,, plus we're missing the chain in the head if thats the case ^v^;;

Thanatos was the last planned one to die. Wilt was angry at how long he hid from them, and thanatos ... thanatos didnt know what else to do , especially considering he had a status to mantain and it was rather foolish of him to continue hiding.

Hours before Wilt would arrive to Thanato's palace, thanatos told his guards about framing wilt for murder. The guards looked at him like a crazed man (which, to be fair, he had a right to be going crazy cuz his siblings werent just dead but the other important gods were dying alongside,, he didnt wanna die under the wrath of the god of war. That'd make him look even more foolish than he already saw himself as)

Wilt busted down Thanato's door in his bedroom. Every other room in the palace of his was empty. They opened the curtains to only find his body laying flat—diagonally—on the wooden bed, his bishop clothes still on with a carved off head. His whole skull was visible and still had some blood left on the sockets and bone.

^ Forgot to mention, Wilt wasn't just freaked out at Thanato's still body on the bed. They freaked out because his "ichor" was red. Gods had black, blue, or golden ichor: mortals had just red blood. Wilt realized Thanatos felt every single second of pain from his own suicide.

Causing a panic response in Wilt as planned, they fell to their knees only crying more ichor,, Thanato's guards captured Wilt. It wasn't likely of them to go down without a fight. Areem, one of Thanto's main guards, knew this about Wilt; he prepared a step further, secretly being all the way on the top of the bed, plunging his sword into Wilt's head to go down through their whole body

UMMM. SO. That was what sent Wilt to Purgatory, can also be be referred to as The Above- Areem was the one to then guard Wilt usually in Purgatory. He gave them a change of robes, just not the ones they Actually wanted (the dark gray-purple robes with the gray-purple shall) WHIIIICH EXPLAINS THIS IMAGE FROM OCTOBER

Currently not too sure on what else to mention about these bishops! I did switch the evil's around, though :o) another little fact about Wilt is that their other four legs were cut off so that's why in Purgatory + Follower form they have two legs rather than their original spider form pre-betrayal.

I do wanna add that their actions are inexcusable so ,, even as a follower in goat's cult they're still like. Pretty rude and blunt. Sometimes it's on purpose, but lesser times its not on purpose. I like to believe they grew desensitized to death over time as well as lacking empathy due to social isolation for three millenia, so that explains their behavior much better rather than excusing it? They are the villain of their own history so- lmao-

The goat genocide happened simultaneously before and after Wilt's death! It took three millenia to eradicate all the goat's left of the warlands, perfect timing for Goat & Ram to die ++ showing up in Wilt's realm (which was another perfect convenience for two siblings to appear, since Thanatos died long ago and his wisdom crown was inactive,, the only crowns Wilt had access to were the crown of famine & the crown of wisdom! (Another thing that explained their changed title after giving goat & ram the crowns of war++wisdom, the god of fear and famine)

ER OK YEAH THAT MIGHT BE ALL I HAVE TO SHARE FOR NOW!! YAYYYYYY I just gotta continue working on the pmv :-3cc

#sydneys doodles #cotl #cult of the lamb #cotl au #cult of the lamb au #regretful war & regretful wisdom #<- Oh now we REALLY putting the Regret into War and Wisdom 😭🙏#Technically i can still tag for the bishops since theyre like- Alternative versions of them. Yeah those words #shamura #narinder #heket #kallamar #leshy #Wow look at whos tagging hir posts for once! HWEGDGWDE #Technically wilt is the “antichrist” walking the lands! Oh deer gooseness. Oh goose heavens #Also! Theyre all the same/similiar heights for once! They dont really come from different backgrounds compared to the other au intertwined #Though it was Wilt and Thanatos who found eachother first- Wilt was just an eeny weeny spider while Thanatos carried them around on his arm #OOuuhhhhguuLASRLY I WANTED TO MAKE PHOB😭OS AN ORANG😭E CAP😭ER😭TILLAR 😭😭😭But he would look like a carrot. I opted out #Missed chance of biblically accurate fuzzy worm! Aw shucks. Aw Dangit. Aw man

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