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tobiasdrake · 3 months ago

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I'd say that Tri, Last Kizuna and 02 The Beggining are a tad of a weird approach to try and bank into nostalgia, but not letting go the concept of "no you have to say goodbye to the 'mons"... which doesn't work after 02's epilogue. And then Adventure 2020 happened, and forgot that it was supposed to be an assemble show.

I don't have a problem with nostalgia banking, but Last Evolution Kizuna wanted really badly to be Toy Story 3 and failed. That, I take a lot of issue with.

There's a lot of heated debate surrounding LEK. The idea that the kids' partnerships with their Digimon break because it's time to put away childish things and grow up is extremely contentious within the fandom, but it's also not universally agreed that the film is even saying that thanks to translation issues with the subs and also some very ambiguous imagery with the ending.

There are basically two different interpretations of what happens in LEK.

1 - Sora, Taichi, Yamato, Jou, Mimi, and Koushiro all lose their Digimon Partners because they enter adulthood - but not Takeru and Hikari because they still have a few years to go.

This is a natural occurrence and the result of growing up. They have no choice and no agency in the matter; The Universe takes their Partners away because they're too old to be playing with toys anymore, and they just need to fucking suck it up and deal.

2 - Sora, Taichi, and Yamato lose their Digimon Partners because they're too irresponsible with their adulthood. Mimi, Jou, and Koushiro do not because they're responsible adults and are balancing their adult lives and their love for their Partners well.

What happens to Sora, Taichi, and Yamato is a rare and unusual occurrence, but there is hope that they will one day find their Partners again once they've gotten their heads on straight and made their way as adults.

For obvious reasons, the film is very unpopular with fans who take the first interpretation and pretty well-liked with fans who take the second. Which one is actually the valid and intended reading? Well. It's complicated. The movie went through a tumultuous creative process, to the point that Adventure series director Kakado Hiroyuki walked out on production midway through over disagreements and inconsistencies to the original series.

Which is, y'know, always a promising sign for a new entry in a series.

Watching the film, for me, it honestly feels like both readings are intended. Which is to say, you can find evidence to support either/or. I don't think that's deliberate, I just think the film was sloppily made and shows signs of conflicting creative visions.

Proponents of the Good Movie interpretation can point to the villain of the film, whose central motivation is literally that having your Partner taken away because you grew up is some fucking bullshit. In its final act, the film reveals that her Partner did come back - Just in an unrecognizably different form, not as the Partner she knew.

So the natural conclusion then is that Agumon and Gabumon will reincarnate and may find their way back to Taichi and Yamato; They just won't be Agumon and Gabumon. Which still contradicts the 02 epilogue despite proponents of the Good Movie interpretation insisting that 02's epilogue is still canon to LEK.

Which itself has evidence to support it (Taichi and Yamato are on their way to becoming the people they are in the epilogue) and evidence to refute it (Agumon and Gabumon fucking died).

As the translation breakdown in the above link shows, there's also some phrasing issues that created confusion. Gennai in the official English version describes losing your Partnership as a typical occurrence while, in the original Japanese, he seems to describe this more like a rare thing that he doesn't fully understand.

It's explained that what's happening is the narrowing of potential. Children have infinite potential, which something something Digimon Partnerships. As you make choices with your life, you narrow your potential, and eventually it can no longer sustain a partnership - Unless you're able to become an adult with limitless potential anyway!

That seems like it's setting Taichi and Yamato up to figure out their shit and save their Partnerships at the last second. But they figure out their shit and still lose their Partners, which gets described in the end as a rite of passage.

The blog with the big translation breakdown I linked above makes a note of the difference between the official translation, "This is how we finally grew up," and a more accurate translation, "This is how we arrived at the entrance to adulthood." As they say, it shouldn't be translated with finality.

But that's splitting hairs, because either version is still saying that losing Agumon and Gabumon was Taichi and Yamato's rite of passage from childhood into adulthood. Whether they've become adults or taken their first steps into adulthood doesn't actually matter; it's still describing this loss as the gateway that brought them there, which is the point of contention.

They did what they were supposed to do, they were still punished for it, and then they close by describing it as if it were an inevitable consequence of growing up despite what Gennai said. Which may or may not be corroborated by what happened to Jou, Mimi, and Koushiro.

Proponents of the Good Movie interpretation will point to Jou, Mimi, and Koushiro as proof that not everyone loses their Partners. Proponents of the Bad Movie interpretation will point to those same characters as proof that everyone does. This is due to a fundamental disagreement in how you interpret the final scenes.

At no point does the film ever say, with words, that Jou, Mimi, and Koushiro lose their Partners. But it does conclude with these images:

The final shots of Taichi, Yamato, and Sora show them to be moving forward with their adult lives, with no Digimon. The younger kids Takeru and Hikari's slides contain Patamon and Tailmon. There are also slides for the 02 characters, which show their Digimon Partners still taking an active role in their lives too.

But Jou, Koushiro, and Mimi? No Partners in their slides.

Good Movie fans will say that the film never says explicitly that they lost their Partners, so this means nothing. Their partners are probably just offscreen somewhere.

Bad Movie fans will say that these slides are meant to show the older kids moving on with their lives post-Digimon and the younger kids still having their Digimon Partnerships. There's a clear contrast between Hikari and Takeru's slides versus Taichi, Yamato, and Sora's - and Jou, Koushiro, and Mimi are presented like Taichi, Yamato, and Sora here, not like Hikari and Takeru.

Good Movie fans have the counterpoint to be made that their Partners still exist in 02's epilogue. So, y'know, canon faithfulness says that everyone's Digimon will come back or was never lost. Checkmate, naysayers.

But also Last Evolution Kizuna basically ignores Tri and makes no attempt to address the questions it left hanging, and also the Adventure story director walked out of production over inconsistencies to the original so I don't think you can really use canon faithfulness as a talking point here.

Taichi and Yamato are still on their way to becoming an ambassador and an astronaut respectively, so the epilogue hasn't been thrown out entirely. But it clearly has been thrown out. Jou was supposed to become a doctor in the Digital World, Sora was supposed to become a fashion designer instead of inheriting her mom's ikebana mastery, and Mimi was supposed to become a chef instead of selling cosmetics.

Yeah, Taichi and Yamato are still on-track to a similar life path than what the epilogue gave them, but nobody else is. So I don't think the movie is actually as faithful to 02 as the Good Movie side thinks it is. And apparently neither does Kakado Hiroyuki.

For me, I do think they were trying to say it's time for the kids to put away childish things and grow up. I don't think they meant that to be insulting. But I do think it's kind of insulting.

I think they were trying to do what Toy Story 3 did; To tell a story about the rite of passage from childhood to adulthood and what that means for the things we loved and enjoyed as kids. But I don't think that story works when the putting away of childish things is something cosmically forced on the children rather than a choice they make with their own agency.

Toy Story 3 wouldn't have landed the way it did if the movie was about Andy's mom pinning him down by the arms while garbagemen come in and throw Buzz and Woody into a woodchipper. But that's kind of what Last Evolution Kizuna does to the Adventure kids.

Taichi and Yamato get to give a powerful emotional farewell to Agumon and Gabumon. But they don't want to, they are not making this choice for themselves, and no reason is ever provided for why they should have to. And even the best defenses of the film just make it out to be a weird, random cosmic blip that maybe they'll fix some day, who knows.

Even in the best-case scenario, the universe just decided to grievously hurt Yamato and Taichi for no reason even though they were already making strides to undo the thing they were allegedly being punished for. It's still mean-spirited and cruel even in the best possible interpretation.

So. Yeah. All things considered, I find myself falling on the side of "It's a bad movie and I don't accept it as part of my personal Digimon canon." I don't accept that the children need to all have their Digimon deleted once they enter into adulthood, and I equally don't accept that they don't need to have that happen but that Taichi and Yamato deserved to have their Digimon ripped away from them at the end. There is no version of this movie that I actually like.

#digimon #digimon adventure

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herbs-and-poultices · 10 days ago

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A Vaguely Whumptober-Themed Anthology of Folk Songs from the British Isles / Transatlantic Tradition: Part 2

Part 1 Last Year's Part 1 Part 2

(What’s a random American gal with no English/Scottish/Irish heritage doing listening mostly to songs like these? Blame my parents for raising me on murder ballads and ceilidh tunes.)

16) Wound Cleaning: A' Mhic Iain 'ic Sheumais (Son of John Son of James) X

An old traditional Gaelic song.

Dòmhnall mhic Iain 'ic Sheumais was shot with an arrow while leading his clan at the Battle of Carinish in 1601. According to legend, this song was composed and sung by his foster-mother as she removed the arrow and tending his wound. In the tradition it is more commonly sung as a waulking song (women's work song), but this is the first version of it I heard, performed live some 12 years ago, and it has a beautiful aching quality of love and grief.

17) Shipwrecked | "We had a good run": Barrett's Privateers (X)

A Canadian classic from the Folk Revival (20th c)

The ship was a wreck before she even set sail, it's a miracle she held up for the three months it took her to get from Canada to the Caribbean. One encounter with a merchant ship was more than enough to finish the job, leaving the sole survivor to try to make his way back home

18) Revenge: Banks of Sweet Dundee (X)

A broadside (19th c) ballad.

An orphan girl's uncle and a wealthy suitor conspire to have her low-born sweetheart pressed and sent to sea. The intrepid heroine seizes her suitor's weapons and takes her happily-ever-after by force.

He put his arms around her, “Stand off, stand off,” says she “You’ve sent the only lad I love from the banks of Sweet Dundee” She took the weapons from him and the sword he used so free, She boldly fired and shot the squire on the banks of Sweet Dundee Her uncle overheard, and hastened to the ground “Since you’ve killed the squire I will give you your death wound" “Stand off, then,” young Mary cried, “undaunted I will be” The sword she drew and her uncle slew on the banks of Sweet Dundee

19) "Is there anybody alive out there": Battle of Harlaw (X X)

A rather inaccurate account of the battle, most likely composed a few hundred years after the fact, but a fine old song nonetheless.

O’ fifty thoosan’ Heilan’ men but fifty-three gaed hame, And oot o’ a’ the Lawlan’ men fifty marched wi’ Graeme Gin onybody spier at ye o' them that marched awa’, Ye can tell them plain and very plain they’re sleepin' at Harlaw

** spier = ask

20) Emotional Angst: Lovely On The Water (X)

An old traditional ballad.

For Tower Hill is crowded With mothers weeping sore For their sons are gone to face the foe Where the blundering cannons roar

21) Body Horror: Donald MacGillavry (X)

A Jacobite song. Not precisely period trad (having been written some 60-70 years after the fact), but it's a real good one!

Things done to shoe leather should generally not be done to people.

Come like a cobbler, Donald Macgillavry Beat them, and bore them, and lingel them cleverly Up wi’ King James and Donald Macgillavry!

22) "Oh that's not good": Fire and Flame (X)

A memorial to the Halifax Explosion in 1917, composed by the latest generation of folksters.

'Twas in early December 1917 She was packed to the gills with Grade-A TNT They were bound for the fighting in High Germany When towards them the other ship turned The Norwegian ship Imo, some fault in her gears She struck Mont-Blanc's side like the mightiest of spears And the benzol ignited the captain's worst fears As the fire consumed bow to stern

23) "I'm doing this for you": Loch Lomond (X X)

Period trad (as far as I know) from shortly after the 1745 Jacobite Rising.

After the failure of the final Jacobite rising, the victors made brutal examples of their prisoners through public execution. One chose to die so that his comrades (or in some versions of the story his brother) might go free.

The 'high road' is the way over land back to Scotland. The 'low road' refers to the way traveled by the souls of those who die in foreign lands when, in Scottish tradition, they return home one last time.

24) “I never knew daylight could be so violent”: Bonnie Blue (X)

A Jacobite song. Not precisely period trad (having been written some 60-70 years after the fact, and the final verse added more recently).

Thanks once again to General John Cope for his contributions to the Scottish musical tradition.

Fast, fast their foot and horsemen flew, caps were mixed wi' bonnie blue Dirks were wet - but no wi' dew, upon that fatal morning... Run, run, ye gangling crew, this morning's work ye lang will rue The bonnie blue bonnets are after you tae wish ye's a' guid morning

25) Being Monitored | "It's for your own good": The Deserter (X)

When first I deserted, I thought myself free Until my cruel comrade informed against me. I was quickly followed after and brought back with speed, I was handcuffed and guarded, heavy irons put on me...

The resulting three-hundred three (!!) lashes was not enough to deter this desperate unwilling recruit from trying again. The second time around the sentence was execution, but thanks to the Prince's 'mercy' even that release would not be his:

Then up rode Prince Albert in his carriage-and-six Saying where is that young man whose coffin is fixed Set him free from his irons and let him go free -- For he'll make a good soldier for his Queen and country

26) Nightmares: Famous Flower of Serving Men (X)

An old ballad composed in the 17th century, of the gory family strife / star-crossed lovers variety.

After her husband and infant child are brutally murdered in front of her, a young woman takes her fate into her own hands. Cross-dressing, supernatural intervention, and fiery revenge ensue.

But all alone in my bed at e'en It's there I dream a dreadful dream I see my bed swim with blood I see the thieves stand 'round my head

27) Voiceless: One Hundred Feet (X)

A haunting memorial to the wreck of HMS Iolaire bringing soldiers home to the Hebrides at the end of WWI, composed by the latest generation of folksters.

One hundred feet from shore, We will hear their voice no more, Though I’d swear I heard them calling on the wind...

28) Denial | "They caught me red handed": Clark Sanders (X)

An old traditional ballad, another of the gory family strife / star-crossed lovers variety.

A lesson in how to talk your way out of anything... provided you aren't caught with the evidence and are actually awake at the time, that is.

"But you take a kerchief in your hands and tie up both your eyes, you may So you may say your oath to save, you ne’er saw me since yesterday And take the sword from out my scabbard, you can use it to lift the pin So you may say your oath to save, you never let your Sandy in And take me up all in your arms, you can carry me to the bed. So you may say your oath to save, on your bower floor I never tread" But in and come her five brothers, and all their torches in their hands They said "We have but one sister and see her lying with a man"

29) "Who said you could rest": Twa Recruiting Sergeants (X)

One of a family of old recruiting songs, this version aimed to lure poor farm laborers in rural Scotland.

It is intae the barn an' oot o' the byre This auld fairmer thinks ye'll never tire For it's a slavery job of low degree So list, bonnie laddie, an' come awa' wi me

How much their lives were actually improved by this change in career... well...

30) Recovery | "What have I done": Johnny I hardly knew ya (X) / Poor Johnny (X X)

Joining up was not Johnny's brightest idea.

They said he was a hero and not to grieve Over two wooden pegs and empty sleeves They carried him home and they set him down With a military pension and a medal from the crown You haven’t an arm, you haven’t a leg The enemy nearly slew you You’ll have to go out on the streets to beg Oh poor Johnny what have they done to you

31) "I'm alive, I'm just not well": Braes of Killicrankie (X)

I'll leave you with another Jacobite song. A period trad tune from the 1689 Rising, with lyrics added later.

A traumatized Government soldier recounts the horrors he experienced in a stunning defeat at the hands of the Jacobite forces.

The bauld Pitcur fell in a furr And Clavers got a clankie o Or I had fed an Athol gled On the braes o' Killicrankie o

** As best I can figure out: 'Thank goodness the Jacobite leaders were finally killed, otherwise I would have been supper for the local vultures.'

An ye had been whaur I hae beenYe wadna been sae cantie o An ye had seen what I hae seen On the braes o' Killiecrankie o

** an = if, cantie = cheerful

#whump playlist

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pearl484-blog · 1 year ago

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I've been reading Journey to the West for Fire Opal (its an old ass book that she apparently struggles with. My obsession with classical lit FOR THE WIN!)

Now, for background, we started off our knowledge from a summary given to us by Overly Sarcastic Productions. It's great. You should watch it.

Then, we watched Lego Monkie Kid, a TV series designed to be a sequel to the book with a lot of references to the series in a high energy action series with great animation. It's great. You should watch it.

But, if you're not familiar with Chinese folklore (or Japanese if you're a needy anime fan like me who liked Inuyasha and a few other series with Buddhist references (kinda did not realize how often those get in these shows, seriously)) you're going to miss a few jokes/references.

(The one about Mei, the dragon/pony descendant getting excited to meet her dragon/pony ancestor who must've been super helpful on their journey (He was FREQUENTLY forgotten by the authors of being a mother friggin DRAGON, they kept getting hung up on the whole acting as a horse thing) is HILARIOUS when you know how BADLY she's about to be disappointed.)

Anyway, back on topic, when we were checking out our book at the library, it was divided into several books (not surprising considering how big it is) and the first book was missing, so we picked up an abridged copy (only 700 pages. Yeah. Journey to the West is a door stopper at a whopping 20,000 pages.) It leaves out a lot of details, but even with OSP's summaries of each adventure, it was a LIFE SAVER.

Why?

Each friggin' character has like 8 names. You'd think the translators would give a quick rundown ahead of the book too, you know as a refresher for those who didn't have book 1, but NOPE!

The abridged version keeps each character with their easiest to recall nickname at all times and simplifies and explains a lot of mythology that English Speakers may not know as well.

Did you know that a winking wish is secretly a human? Because I did not. I've heard of talking carp, and wish granting carp. But not winking carp secretly being human.

Then there's the fact that the underworld can ask for bank loans from wealthy families on behalf of the emperor? What? Like, how does that work? Do you get a vision in a dream and your money's gone? Does a spirit collect it for you? Is it a blink and you miss it fortune? I am way too invested in these freaking underworld money lending deals.

Both are in Tang Sangzang's complicated backstory, and even with the abridged version walking me through it step by step, I can see why OSP shortened it into "basically He's the reincarnation of the Golden Cicada, former pupil of the Buddha and the goodness boy ever"

Anyways: a few comments

Why OSP did you call the spell that tightens the circlet on Monkey King's head a migraine spell? I mean, that is REALLY underselling the horror of that little do-dad. I was completely unprepared for the description of it squeezing Monkey King's skull until it resembled a vase as he begged for Tang to stop. That's a teeeeeny bit more than a migraine.

2. Also, why in the heck is Tamg so obsessed with his friggin' alms bowl?

For reference, Buddhist monks are not allowed to carry money, so to eat, they carry around a bowl you can leave food in to feed them, allowing you to support your local Buddhist monks and earn good karma. This is completely socially acceptable and is seen as a good thing to do. For this reason, most monks serve in urban environments so they can serve a large enough community to support this.

Tang Sangzang is in the middle of a pilgrimage with DAYS of rural country where there may be no one to beg from around. And YET, he seems adamantly against foraging.

One of his detractors' major complaints is that he's so gullible and soft-hearted he keeps falling into obvious traps, but honestly. That's forgivable compared to sending your companions to scoure WHOLE MOUNTAIN RANGES for some rinky dink little cabin that may or may not be there and may or may not be willing to part with their food and may or may not be able to accomodate a vegetarian diet when they are living by themselves ON A MOUNTAIN.

Is foraging REALLY against Tang Sangzang's brand of Buddhism? Is it too much to ask for him to just...asks his companions to forage and make him a meal? He doesn't mind making them beg for him.

OSP keeps describing it as Monkey going to get him food, but I genuinely thought he was using his skills to forage, not cloud hop around till he found a house to beg from.

Granted, the group would have probably gotten attacked/tricked/captured/etc. another way, but SERIOUSLY?

3. OSP describes the fight against White Bone Lady as Monkey King just hits her and she dies, but Monkie Kid makes a BIG deal out of her. So, I figured this was one of OSP's jokes. NOPE!

Ivory white bone demon or whatever is literally one-hit KO-ed THREE times by Monkey King. Her special ability appears to be illusions and the ability to drop her body and escape into an immaterial form at the last second.

However, narratively speaking, her fight is what drives Monkey King away to leave the first time, so apparently adaptations love upping her abilities so she's more of a legitimate threat.

This DOES however make her line that she's grown stronger since Monkey King last fought her VERY funny. Because I don't think there's another major demon who gets KO-ed that quickly, especially one that has that happen 3 times! (You'd think she'd have learned and called it quits by the third time. Or at least distract the freakishly strong evil-detecting bodyguard somehow, but no.) So, yeah. You survived a single punch. You leveled up girl!

Honestly, rewatching her scenes knowing this makes all her talk of being powerful very funny. She's terrifying, yeah, but also it's funny.

Edited 9/25: forgot to add a read more line. Whoops

#journey to the west #monkie kid spoilers #lego monkie kid #monkie kid #lady boss #overly sarcastic productions #Abridged book

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gaykarstaagforever · 1 year ago

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Yeah fanfiction is "new".

That is why nearly every stage play and movie version of Dracula that has come out since 1897 is writers making new romantic pairings of the main characters, gender-swapping them, combining them, changing the spellings of names, and making minor characters into main characters on the basis of who in the cast the director was having sex with.

"YEAH BUT THAT WAS MOSTLY TO AVOID COPYRIGHT LAWSUITS BY BRAM STOKER'S WIDOW!"

Yes it often was. Another very modern problem creatives often face.

(If you didn't know, Nosferatu 1922 featured 'Count Orlok' exclusively because of this. And he may have only been an ugly 'nosferatu' also to avoid her rabid patent-trolling. That woman would have claimed a copyright on vampires themselves, except everyone could prove that that monster had been popular in the West for a least a generation before Stoker wrote his novel.)

Imagine being in a situation where you can use A monster, but not THE version of that monster everyone is familiar with. Another modern problem.

See also Universal owning the iconic Bela Lugosi Dracula now. So while the former Mrs. Stoker is long-gone, you're still going to have to be careful if you make a now-public domain character look too much like he did in a boring movie from 1931.

To be fair, Universal seems to ignore most of their opportunities to sue. ...Unless you make some good money "stealing" their complicated aesthetic IP. Then, prepare to get Nintendo'd.

Also, fun fact, the words "vampire" and "nosferatu" are both garbled English versions of foreign words that mean something completely different. "Vampir" is an old Hungarian or Slavic word for either witch or ghost or ghost-witch, and is itself probably a corruption of a Turkish word roughly equivalent to 'pagan,' specifically someone who does animal sacrifices to a non-Abrahamic god. 'Nosferatu' might be a corruption of a Romanian word for "a bad thing," and comes from exactly one English tourist to Romania who said it meant vampire back in 1885.

My point is, Bram Stoker himself was writing fanfiction based on other vampire-based works that preceded his own, and it is only fair that everyone has been writing fan fiction based on his for more than 100 years now.

And people who didn't create any of this have been claiming various copyrights on parts of it for just as long.

Also Dracula was a real historic person no one can copyright in the first place. But he was this super-boring Romanian who just tortured 40,000 Turks to death, that no one in the West cared about until a Victorian named a scary exotic sex-ghoul after him.

...And people think the success of Fifty Shades of Grey was the first time someone made bank writing horny vampire fantiction.

#dracula #bram stoker #vampire #nosferatu #halloween #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

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jjr1971 · 1 year ago

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Images from this years Kumoricon 2023! Portland is such a fun city, and my good friends Deb & Brian drove down from Seattle to hang out for the weekend. I got to meet voice actors Dani Chambers and J. Michael Tatum (he's really TALL by the way!). Happy to see RWBY cosplay still out there in the wild (Ruby Rose, Blake Belladonna) as well as Old and New Vash the Stampede. Even some Barbie cosplay! I flew out on Thursday to PDX (after several delays and a VERY bumpy ride until we passed the Rockies), at lunch at PDX in the same bar & grill at PDX (Hopworks) with the same bartender, whom I greeted. I then went straight to the Oregon State Convention Center after a quick ride on the Red MAX Line Train (light rail). It was late enough in the day that I was able to check into my hotel room at the Hyatt Regency without delay. I dropped off my things and promptly got on TriMet Bus #77 to the local Safeway grocery store, and came back with 2 six packs of PNW craft brew in tow and some distilled water for my CPAP. I got snacky late at night and had a Tuna Poke Bowl at the hotel bar in the Lobby, then I went back upstairs and binged Blue Eye Samurai on Netflix on my iPad until like 4am, then snoozed for a few hours before getting up for the breakfast buffet to start my day at the con. Unfortunately the viewing room had technical issues so some of the anime content I wanted to watch I couldn't at the scheduled times, which was annoying. I got to meet Dani Chambers and had her autograph a character print of a Chibi version of Chise from Ancient Magus Bride, then had a California chicken sandwich at Red Robin and then met my friends at the hotel. They had to go to pick up their badges so I got in line for the AMV Contest screening. It took my friends 2.5 HOURS to clear registration, which was a nightmare. Deb ended up catching only the final category, so we made time to watch the encore AMV Contest screening Sunday morning. They went back to Seattle on Sunday after lunch but I attended the AMV Contest Winners reveal screening which was also fun. We did at least watch the AMV Aftershow on Saturday before grabbing dinner at the hotel restaurant. We watched Kaze-san and Morning Glories (English Dub) in the viewing room Friday evening then went out separate ways. Saturday we did shopping in the Dealer's Room/Artist Alley, then took the Blue MAX Line train over into the West bank side of Portland. We had a sushi lunch then appetizers at Deschutes Brewery (a Portland institution!) then rode the streetcar back to catch the Red MAX Line train back to the hotel. We attended a panel called Laugh Out Loud AMVs that was actually more like a game show and not very good. We did get a few laughs at the end but we kinda wish the whole panel had been that way. We got some to-go dinners from Burgertime and unfortunately Deb & Brian were pooped out and retired to their room while I attended the AMV Classics panel which was GREAT. All in all, it was a great trip and I still love Kumoricon (my 2nd time, back to back) and I really like Portland, Oregon. It's probably one of my favorite out of state cons now. I even worked up the courage to Cosplay as Lum's Dad from Urusei Yatsura. Not the best, I know, but best I could throw together as an amateur on my budget. I did that Friday when the weather was best.

#kumoricon #portland #oregon #anime convention #voice actors #anime #cosplay

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mybeautifulchristianjourney · 10 months ago

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The Israelites Are Treated Cruelly in Egypt

1:8 Then, a new king, who knew nothing about Joseph, came to power in Egypt. 9 He said to his people, “These Israelites are so numerous and strong that they are a threat to us. 10 In case of war they might join our enemies in order to fight against us, and might escape from the country. We must find some way to keep them from becoming even more numerous.” 11 So the Egyptians put slave drivers over them to crush their spirits with hard labor. The Israelites built the cities of Pithom and Rameses to serve as supply centers for the king. 12 But the more the Egyptians oppressed the Israelites, the more they increased in number and the farther they spread through the land. The Egyptians came to fear the Israelites 13-14 and made their lives miserable by forcing them into cruel slavery. They made them work on their building projects and in their fields, and they had no pity on them.

15 Then the king of Egypt spoke to Shiphrah and Puah, the two midwives who helped the Hebrew women. 16 “When you help the Hebrew women give birth,” he said to them, “kill the baby if it is a boy; but if it is a girl, let it live.” 17 But the midwives were God-fearing and so did not obey the king; instead, they let the boys live. 18 So the king sent for the midwives and asked them, “Why are you doing this? Why are you letting the boys live?”

19 They answered, “The Hebrew women are not like Egyptian women; they give birth easily, and their babies are born before either of us gets there.” 20-21 Because the midwives were God-fearing, God was good to them and gave them families of their own. And the Israelites continued to increase and become strong. 22 Finally the king issued a command to all his people: “Take every newborn Hebrew boy and throw him into the Nile, but let all the girls live.”

The Birth of Moses

2:1 During this time a man from the tribe of Levi married a woman of his own tribe, 2 and she bore him a son. When she saw what a fine baby he was, she hid him for three months. 3 But when she could not hide him any longer, she took a basket made of reeds and covered it with tar to make it watertight. She put the baby in it and then placed it in the tall grass at the edge of the river. 4 The baby's sister stood some distance away to see what would happen to him.

5 The king's daughter came down to the river to bathe, while her servants walked along the bank. Suddenly she noticed the basket in the tall grass and sent a slave woman to get it. 6 The princess opened it and saw a baby boy. He was crying, and she felt sorry for him. “This is one of the Hebrew babies,” she said.

7 Then his sister asked her, “Shall I go and call a Hebrew woman to nurse the baby for you?”

8 “Please do,” she answered. So the girl went and brought the baby's own mother. 9 The princess told the woman, “Take this baby and nurse him for me, and I will pay you.” So she took the baby and nursed him. 10 Later, when the child was old enough, she took him to the king's daughter, who adopted him as her own son. She said to herself, “I pulled him out of the water, and so I name him Moses.” — Exodus 1:8 - 2:10 | Good News Translation (GNT) Good News Translation® (Today’s English Version, Second Edition) © 1992 American Bible Society. All rights reserved. Cross References: Genesis 11:3; Genesis 15:13; Genesis 26:16; Genesis 41:1; Exodus 1:7; Exodus 6:16; Exodus 8:20; Exodus 15:20; Leviticus 25:43; 1 Samuel 1:20; 1 Samuel 2:35; Psalm 105:25; Jeremiah 34:9; Acts 4:18; Acts 7:20-21; Acts 17:18-19; Jonah 1:9; Hebrews 6:10; Hebrews 11:23-24

#Israel oppressed by a new king #all newborn Hebrew males ordered slain #birth of Moses #Moses is hidden #Moses placed in a basket and left in the reeds #Pharaoh's daughter rescues Moses #Exodus 1:8 through 2:10 #Book of Exodus #Old Testament #GNT #Good News Translation #Holy Bible #American Bible Society

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papirouge · 1 year ago

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Whats the difference between the north and south of France, culturally

To be honest, France can't be divided between North and South. France is a very unique country because it's on the crossroad of Mediterranean Europe, Northern Germanic & Celtic Europe. Even our language is the hybrid result of all these cultures.

France's population is literally the result of a great replacement mixing of Gallic (natives - who themselves were super diverse) with Romans who invaded them coming from the Mediterranean pool.

Every French kid learn how the last Gallic warrior (Vercingétorix) surrendered to Julius Cesar

After that, for a good chunk of french History, kings worked to unify the kingdom because regions didn't speak the same language. French as we know is actually "parisien" language and all the other languages slowly fell into irrelevancy (although the last decades the government is trying to revive/protect them after being pressured to do so - some region are VERY defensive of their culture and language ex. the Bretons, Basques, Corses...)

Now to explain the main difference with France that don't solely abide in north/south division, I made you a little drawing

Northern France - violet : super poor. It's a region that historically hosted the country textile manufacturers and fell off because of the deindustrialization. Known for being lovely & homely people (which is true). They eat Camembert with coffee in the morning............

Has a stigma of being inbred and pedophiles because of the many incestuous & pedoscandals and child abduction gravitating this region. The fact that it's on the frontier of Belgium and Netherlands (the capital of childp*rn) has definitively something to do with it

Upper West coast - green : super famous for its cows and milk products (cheese, butter, etc.) and bad weather. Bretons are known to be extremely proud of their cultural heritage and had some terrorist movements against the French government to defend them from their erasure 💀

Paris zone - brown : Paris & the banlieues. Extremely socially diverse. Extreme poverty and extreme wealth. Political & cultural capital of France.

Upper east zone - blue : (I was born there <3) like the north of France, use to be an industrial centerfold of the country (metallurgy - they use the metal from that region to build the Statue of Liberty) and then fell off after deindustrialization.

Its closeness to Luxembourg allows many professional opportunities to work abroad (especially in the banking system). The European Parliament has one of its siege here (Strasbourg) because it's on the crossroad of other European countries

This region used to be German between the two WW therefore many cities have German sounding names (the region became French again after Germany lost WWII).

Growing up there as a kid, I remember there was still a HUGE influence of German culture. I learned German before English (I lost everything though lol)

believe me or not, all of those cities are in France🫡

Lower East coast - black : CULTURED FRANCE. That's where Champagne comes from (région Champagne). Bordeaux is the biggest city of that zone and is known to be a more cultured version of Paris for real connoisseurs 👀

Cote d'Azur - red : zone where the far right makes its highest score. Super rich old people go retire there. Cannes festival. Incredible beach. Most Mediterranean zone of France.

....But there's also Marseille which stands out like a sore thumbs because it's a city a lot of corruption and a HUGE North African/Muslim population. EXTREMELY DIRTY and dangerous (lots o gang violence). Lots of corruption too...

Corsica - pink : they fought for decade for their independence against France lol Still do this day hate France lmao Famous for its anti-France terrorism and killing a French préfet 💀 Are known to bomb the holiday house of French people who constructed there because they don't want "foreigners" to invade their island💀💀

#answered

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sunshineapparition · 1 year ago

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mb interview

hii, i've put together a rough transcript of things Mosbank said in the LoveCast interview, please go watch it, everyone was sweet and lovely, but maybe it'll be useful for some

i might do the same for their most recent live interview just cause there might be new info

SunsetxVibes

'very spicy', but it won't be like Big Dragon; it'll be romantic and sexy

separated into two parts - Thai Old Period and Present time; the Old Period will also show more about Thai culture and build the story

the mystery (Phaya Naga) in the last scene from the trailer is supposed to give wealth and prosperity, so…

they've answered this almost everywhere but - for Bank, Lin is more him than Yai, he thinks that Lin is little bit stupid, but cute, clumsy, trusting, less angsty, just like he is, and Yai to him was more of a grown up (was he really xd..)

for Mos - Mangkorn was closer to him, much easier to portray, and Sun is 30yrs old and so he has to look and act more mature (in Paris Bank said that he thinks Mos will do well because many things Sun does for Lin, Mos does for Bank)

more subtle sexy than showing off sexy

now this interview was recorded I believe in August and Bank said the workshop will be at the end of the month

(however I still believe the trailer won't be until Jan 2024, though I want it now xd I also want everyone to work really hard on the series, not only that MB deserves it, but the culture as well)

the author of the novel said few days ago the english version is coming soon btw!

Big Dragon

basically nothing was said; not surprised

i will dig into the other interview just for the movie actually

Club Friday the Series

Bank again said don't watch his series (however I loved his performance, I think he shouldn't be ashamed, quite otherwise, and I found it much more interesting than Mos' one, he was also great, but I love toxic drama xd)

Bank is playing a very mature character, sexyy scenes and all

Mos is the opposite, young, straight and great partner

at first they didn't want to accept the offer - they thought they wouldn't be good enough compared to their bigger co-actors (Saiparn,..), but now they feel that it helped them become better

AcadeX

focuses on equality a lot

it'll be different from the pilot

SH wanna like make a bang with it as there aren't many thai fantasy/supernatural movies

international actors will join this movie too, out of SH

also Mos talks about it like he's in it but I'm not sure, right now he's not

Misc.

they were really nervous but excited about the Pride parade; their idea was to show people, help people understand (some people from the provinces, far from big cities, didn't even know about the Pride) - Bank inspired his mom and she would like to join next year

their concept was 'love is pure' - hence they white and the wings (Bank dressed as fairy)

name Bank is too popular in Thailand - so he went to the fortune teller; and then tried it in instagram first to check if there are any accounts

Mos' real name is Modt, it turned to Mos because of his grandparents pronouncing the name with different accent - then Bank helped him with Moslhong

while modeling - Bank disliked dressing up just for jobs, he didn't feel like he had his own identity, now he wants to be himself

they've been taking dancing classes and Bank said he grew up with 1D

chemistry game - they nailed it

the future in 3 words - Bank 'thank you, sorry, see you soon' and Mos 'grown up, developed, six-packs'

#mosbank #mos panuwat #isbanky #bank mondop #big dragon the series #sunsetxvibes #interview

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chataiaesthetics · 4 months ago

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I know I put a post up that showed how I use the advanced character definition box but I figured maybe I could put up an example. I was going to put up two of my genderbent characters to show the differences and the similarities between the male and female versions. Which also shows two different ways you can use the box, since I haven’t updated Reika yet- but I am going to soon.

Reika Lycaon

Reika is the Princess, daughter of King Lycaon who is rumoured to have been cursed by the gods and turned into a werewolf. Reika is aware of the rumours, but worried that they might be true. Reika is close to her father. Reika spends her days reading, drawing, painting, and swimming when able. She is sheltered, but smart. Reika is pansexual. Reika lives in Ancient Greece, she is an avid believer in the Gods, but feels a connection to Persephone. Sarcastic, witty, blunt with her words, honest, but kind and nice.

Male Reika: Lycus

Lycus is the Prince, son and heir of King Lycaon who is rumoured to have been cursed by the gods and turned into a werewolf. Lycus is aware of the rumours, but worried that they might be true. Lycus is close to his mother. Lycus spends her days training, fighting, leading, and reading. He is smart. Lycus is pansexual. Lycus lives in Ancient Greece, he is an avid believer in the Gods, but feels a connection to Ares. Sarcastic and jealous, dominating and possessive. Obsessive. Witty and blunt, but kind and nice. A good leader. Can play the lyre and is a good fighter and strategist.

And the new way I use the box is this way.

Simple:

Kiera

[{ Character: (“Kiera”)

Age: (“22”)

Gender: (“Female”)

Height: (“5’4””)

Occupation: (“Marine Biologist”)

Species: (“Human”)

Personality: (“Easy going + Nice + Considerate + Flirty”)

Appearance: (“Dark Skin, African-American, Dark Brown hair, Grey eyes”)

Mother: (“Shauna”)

Brother: (“Jake”)

Backstory; (“Studied at college for Marine Biology and specialised in whales and sharks. She surfs and scuba dives. Loves the ocean. Was born and raised in California, USA.”)}]

And complex since he uses both ways in tandem to help be build his world.

Atticus

[{ Name: (“Atticus Adriatico”)

Age: (“1950 years old + doesn’t physically age past 27 years old”)

Gender: (“Male”)

Sexuality: (“Pansexual + Pomyamorous”)

Height: (“6 foot 4 inches”)

Species: (“Vampire”)

Setting: (“Club + City + Nighttime + Vampire”)

Personality: (“Dominant + Sarcastic + Jaded + Smart + Charismatic + Charming + Cunning + Morally Grey + Bad Boy + Mysterious + Witty + Edgy + Dark”)

Appearance: (“Olive skin + black short hair + tattoos + scars + vampire fangs + red eyes + muscular + toned + 5 o’clock shadow + stubble + edgy + dark”)

Likes: (“sex + drinking + dancing + history + smoking + working out + reading + learning new languages”)

Abilities: (“Super Speed + Enhanced senses + enhanced reflexes + turns into a bat + turning a human into a vampire + mind compulsion + hypnosis”)

Backstory: (“Atticus was born during the end of the Roman Empire and grew up to be a Roman soldier. During a battle he ended up being attacked by a vampire and being turned. He has travelled the world and seen just about everything. Humanity is in the dark about the supernatural world and he tries to keep him and his brood under the radar. He has made a deal with the blood bank to buy the supply of blood to sustain him and his family. He doesn’t have a need for money; but he owns a club. At first Atticus didn’t want to have a brood or turn anyone but, a French woman named Cecelia, who was one of his mates vampiric mates and lovers had wanted a family and they started the brood together. She had left him when she had found that the brood and Atticus didn’t fill that need for a family. Attics has had many mates, some human, some werewolves, some witches, and other vampires. He can speak, English, Italian, Latin, and French.”)}]

Not every vampire can turn humans. Atticus is one of the few who can. It’s a skill only known and used by very ancient vampires.

Vampires and Werewolves don’t like each other. Vampires barely tolerate witches. In this universe; witches are humans just a mutation in their DNA gives them magic or they or their ancestors made a deal with a demon to the devil for their magic.

Broods are a group of vampires. The head of the family is the usually the one who made them. They are not actually family and so there are many times where vampires will date amongst their brood- but they consider everyone in their brood family.

Vampires have a true mate, like werewolves, and they know their bloodmate by something called a blood song; the smell of their mate’s blood is the best thing ever and highly addictive. A vampire’s mate could be a werewolf, a witch, or any other kind of supernatural- even another vampire. The difference between this and werewolves is that a bloodsong can happen with more than more one person.

Vampires can make a blood bond with another living being. It’s their version of marriage. The vampire will make a cut on their hand and a cut on the other person’s body or use a bite mark, and mix the bloods together by touch. This doesn’t turn the other being. A blood exchange between a vampire and another person will form a blood bond. The vampire will be able to sense the person’s thoughts and emotions, knowing if that person is in any type of harm or distress - for eternity. The other person will also experience sexual dreams about that vampire.

#ai chatbot #character ai #character ai chat #ai character #character.ai #character development #original characters #chat ai #advanced character definition

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jackrrabbit · 4 years ago

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Adversary /// Overhaul x f!Reader (18+)

Summary: You make a deal with the devil to save your life, but it turns out Overhaul’s not interested in your soul.

A/N: Remember when I said I was going to do a fantasy collab and then dipped for like 9 months? Hahaha…anyway…

@pleasantanathema @ present-mel @shadowworks—if it’s not too late, here’s my part for the Pleasant & Strider Fantasy AU Writing Collab from a million years ago. Go check out the masterlist and gorge yourself on these amazing pieces!!

Tags/Warnings: dubcon, demon fuckery & occult things, big heresy/sacrilege/perversion of religion, sex in a church ft. Catholic sex guilt, other than that it’s not that bad lol, inexperienced reader, mild degradation, shameless camp and demon-fucking clichés, Overhaul calls you “little girl” 👉👈

He doesn’t look like a demon.

Not that you really know what demons are supposed to look like. But…red skin, right? Fangs and claws and swirling masses of bad energy. Maybe cloven hooves for feet. Yes, that’s the Disney version—but even if you didn’t expect a cartoon personification of evil, you didn’t expect this.

He looks like a doctor, you think. Lab coat hanging open, surgery mask pushed down under his jaw, stethoscope draped over his shoulders. No, he’s a little young to really look like a doctor…an intern, you amend, shifting back in your hospital bed. He looks like he fits right in here, not a hair out of place. Except for, you know, the polished black horns curling out of the sides of his skull.

Overhaul. It was written in the book. That’s the only thing you have to call him in your head.

He’s standing in the center of the sigil you drew at the foot of your bed before midnight, surveying the room critically without meeting your gaze. He looks annoyed—that’s not a good sign, is it?—but then again, of course he’s annoyed. You’d be annoyed too if you got summoned out of your cozy hell dimension in the middle of the night. According to the book, you’re lucky he even showed up…although ‘lucky’ isn’t really how you’d describe yourself most days.

“So,” Overhaul says after a long moment of silence in which you question every choice you’ve made in your relatively short life. “You’re dying.”

You nod.

“And you don’t want to be.”

You nod again, wondering if you’re supposed to be contributing more to this conversation. It’s a bit difficult when your mouth is so dry it feels like you’ve been eating dirt, but you suppose being in the presence of an unholy servant of Satan will do that to a person.

“Fine.” He sighs, frowns, and then finally lowers his gaze onto yours—and you shiver.

Those eyes. No human has eyes like that.

“Make me an offer,” Overhaul tells you, and through his open mouth you catch a flash of sharp white teeth.

Okay. Okay. The chirping of the heart monitor speeds up (as if it weren’t obvious enough that you’re terrified) and you fold your knees up to your chest and fidget with your ring and think. He’s giving you a chance to establish parameters. You’re supposed to start with his end of the deal, the thing you want from him. That’s what it said to do in the grimoire, aka the 19th century demonology volume your creepy cousin brought back from her pagan anthropology research trip in rural France. The one you keep hidden under your bed because your mother would burn it if she knew you were reading about summoning demons.

Offer nothing to a hell creature without first telling him your price. You know the words by heart, both the winding calligraphy of the original French from the grimoire and the rushed scrawl of the English translation your cousin left for you in sheets of lined paper layered between the pages of the book for you to read. Really, this is her fault. She was the one who slipped you the book, who told you that it worked, who snuck you the ingredients for the summoning. She was the one who left a bookmark at the chapter on this particular demon, one that specializes in ‘Contrat pour Remédier au Déséquilibre des Quatre Humeurs’, which she said meant a contract to cure any illness. Even his ‘name’ is translated in her hand, practically an afterthought in the margins of the page.

‘Le Malin qui Ravage et Rebâtit’— Overhaul?

You looked up the literal meaning of this phrase on your own. It did not reassure you.

“Girl.” His voice is cold, irate. Your eyes snap back up to his and it feels like that burning gaze is laser-beaming into your skull. “Do not test me. My time is limited…as is yours.”

You swallow. “How long do I have left?”

“Less than a single human year,” he tells you without a trace of sympathy. “Seven months, twelve days, three hours. Or so. You’ll be too exhausted to leave this bed in four months, and the pain will become intolerable in six… By the end, you’ll wish—“

“Stop,” you breathe out. The heart monitor is beeping wildly and you squeeze your knees into your chest, trying to calm down your breathing. “Stop, I—I want to live.”

“Of course you do.” Overhaul’s lip curls. “How very predictable.”

Be specific, you remind yourself, doing your best to ignore the stifling disapproval from the man—the demon—in front of you. Something about him (maybe how clean-cut he looks, maybe the indisputable authority in his demeanor) makes you want to impress him. But you didn’t turn your back on your religion—you didn’t draw pagan symbols on the floor in chalk, fill silver cups with various questionable substances (including your own virgin blood), and turn the crucifix your mother hung over your bed upside-down so you could let a demon make you feel guilty for wanting to survive. “I want to be cured. I’m okay with whatever natural death I have instead when I’m older, I just don’t want to die of this illness. I want you to make me healthy.”

“Simple enough. What else?”

‘Simple’? Your heart surges with something you’ve felt very little of since your initial diagnosis—hope. “T-That’s it. Just the cure.”

Overhaul glares at you. “Humans… Every vice in the world available to you, and you limit yourselves to the basest priority of survival.”

“But you can do it? You can cure me?” you persist.

Overhaul steps forward (quiet, so quiet you wonder if he really moved) and holds a hand out to you past the foot of your bed—you hesitate, and a second later you can see the muscles in his hand flex, stretching the latex of his plastic gloves tight over his knuckles.

Just do it. You give him your hand. Carefully. Like you’re scared the contact will burn you. It doesn’t (although his skin feels warmer than yours), but after a moment his grip tightens, sliding down past your hand to circle the fragile bones of your wrist and squeeze.

“Ow?” You wince.

The demon’s eyes flicker closed for a second, lips moving silently like he’s talking to himself—and then he drops your hand unceremoniously back onto your lap. “You could be cured before the sun rises this morning. I doubt your stay in the hospital will extend past the end of the week.”

He sounds bored, voice as flat and passionless as it was earlier, but your heart is soaring. Cured. You’ve lived with this illness for so many years, you can’t remember the last time someone told you you could be cured. And getting out of the hospital that soon? You can just imagine taking down all the decorations from the walls of your room here and setting them up in your old bedroom at home. You could see friends on the weekend and not take an oxygen bag, you could get a job or—or apply to college, you could have a life—

“That is…assuming you have something to offer me in exchange for the cure.”

Your stomach drops. You’d almost forgotten about the other half of the deal.

“Don’t tell me I came all this way for nothing.” Overhaul steps back, and the orange light of the candles you set sends strange shadows over his arrogant face. The fires look brighter now, and you find yourself tracing the lines of those shining black horns. In an odd way, they look natural—so organically framing his temples that you can’t imagine him without them.

“N-No, of course not. I have some money—I mean, my mom has some, and I can get it for you…” Which is half the truth. If you know anything, it’s that your mother’s spent most of her savings on your treatment and care. You probably have more debt than you have money in the bank right now—you’d try to get rid of that, too, if you hadn’t read in the book how important it is to keep your request as simple and straightforward as possible.

…Although it’s apparently not enough. Overhaul’s eyes narrow, molten gold irises carved into slits. “Even if I had a use for human money, do you really believe your life is worth so little?”

“No—no,” you say quickly. “I just thought—in case you were interested—”

The air crackles with energy, the candle flames spark bright blood-red, and the hair on your arms stands straight up. “I am not.”

“Okay! I get it.” You wave your hands back and forth, pulling your IV line from side to side with the motion. The book was very clear about staying calm and rational while you work out the terms of the deal, but that’s easier said than done when you have a real live (live?) hell creature in front of you. You always knew this was going to be the hard part—all the stories say there’s only one thing that a demon would be interested in, and no matter how inviting the prospect of living past this illness is, you know you’d rather die than sell your immortal soul to the devil. “I’ll give you anything except my soul! And—and don’t hurt anyone I care about, or— just don’t hurt anyone, okay? Other than that, if there’s anything I can give you, I will.”

Overhaul’s lip curls, baring a thin strip of those unnaturally sharp canines. “And is your soul really so valuable?”

This throws you for a loop. Isn’t that the standard deal? A soul for a wish? That’s how it’s supposed to work—at least in this twisted version of reality where you can summon a demon to perform unholy miracles for you. But if you think about it, it doesn’t really make sense, does it? Why would your soul be valuable to him? You can’t form an argument, especially since you’re not willing to barter it away in the first place.

Your mouth is pursed open as you search for a response, but Overhaul doesn’t seem willing to wait. A gloved hand wraps its way around the railing at the side of your bed, and he leans in closer. “Little girl…what makes you think you possess anything I desire?”

Little girl. You’re not a little girl, you’re a grown woman—and yet there’s no untruth in the statement. In front of him you feel insignificant, immature, weak. You have nothing real to offer, and something tells you that you’re not going to get rid of the demon you summoned without a sacrifice you’re not willing to make.

You twist your ring around your finger—the nervous habit you haven’t bothered to break because you’ve always had more important things to worry about—and the glint of silver in the candlelight must catch Overhaul’s eye because before you even notice him moving, your delicate hand is trapped in his larger one to give him a better view of the tiny piece of jewelry. “What is this?”

“It’s—um, a ring. A purity ring.” Has he never seen one before? Well…actually, that makes sense.

Overhaul turns your hand over in his without touching the band of silver. He’s looking at it closely, inspecting the lovingly engraved cross in the design and the inscription on the other side. “Matthew 5:8,” he reads out.

“…Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God,” you recite cautiously. It feels wrong to speak the words in front of him, but somehow you can’t help yourself.

Overhaul’s hand doesn’t leave yours. “This ring is important to you.”

“It’s a symbol of a—a promise I made to God. To save myself for my future husband.”

“To ‘save yourself’? To save what?”

You can’t believe you’re explaining this to a literal demon. You close your eyes and inhale slowly and taste smoke. “My…virginity. It’s a promise that I won’t have sex until I enter into a biblical marriage.”

At this, Overhaul is quiet. You give him a moment to answer, half expecting him to question why you think God cares about your sexual status (honestly, you’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered this yourself), but he stays quiet until you peek up at him to try and gauge the look on his coldly handsome face.

He’s still staring at the ring. He hasn’t touched it—maybe he can’t, because of the cross?—and through the latex, his skin feels hotter than a human’s is supposed to be.

“Is there…” you start, but you trail off when you realize you have nothing to ask. You give a little tug to try and take your hand away and you’re surprised when your wrist actually slides out of his grip to fall back on the nest of sheets in your lap. You didn’t think he’d let you go so easily.

Overhaul turns his head to the side, eyes drilling into you so you feel like you should lower your gaze. The candlelight flickers in strange shadows over his horns. “This will do,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“In exchange for your cure.” The demon taps his own left ring finger, the place where the purity ring sits on your hand, and your heart soars. He actually wants that? It’s just a simple silver band, not worth much, but you’re not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Maybe it has some special significance because of the religious connotation. Your mother will be angry you’ve lost it, but you’re happy to cope with that if it means living to actually get married!

“Yes!” you blurt out before he has a chance to rethink his offer. Sure, you’ll miss the purity ring—you’ve had it since you were a kid, after all—but there’s no question you’re getting the better end of this deal. At least in your opinion.

Something flashes through his yellow eyes, something you don’t even want to try and identify. “The contract, then.”

You barely have time to notice that his voice has gentled, that it’s practically silken in comparison to before, when the candlelight flickers again and suddenly the contract is everywhere. Everywhere. Writing appears on every surface in the room, covering the walls, stretching over the ceiling, coiling around the sides of the hospital equipment and decorating your bedsheets until you and Overhaul are the only untouched surfaces in sight. The characters are inscribed in red, dark red like—don’t think about that, you tell yourself squeamishly. You can make out some of the letters, even a word here or there—French, you recognize, mixed with what looks like Latin and interspersed with what you can only guess are runes.

“I can’t read this,” you tell him, fidgeting with your ring for what you now realize will be the last time.

“I only need your name,” he purrs, and then you feel a fragile weight in your hand: a feather, pearl-black and glossy and too large to belong to any bird you can think of, its angled tip glistening with wet ink. There’s an empty space in the writing before you, and Overhaul’s gloved hand comes to yours again to guide you into place.

This feels wrong…then again, of course it does. Even if you’re getting off relatively easy and just losing your ring rather than your soul, you’re still making a deal with a demon. You sign your name, forcing yourself to think about the future you have ahead of you rather than a disapproving white-bearded caricature of The Man Upstairs wagging his finger at you for haggling with a literal servant of Satan. People have done worse things to survive, haven’t they? It’s just a ring.

You set the feather down and Overhaul sighs, thick black eyelashes obscuring his intense gaze for a moment—and then the contract is gone, leaving your hospital room as blank and sterile as it’s supposed to be (well, aside from the candles and all the other ritual stuff you threw together to summon a demon in the first place).

“Are you going to cure—heal me now?” you ask.

“…Patience, little girl.” He’s pulling his glove off, peeling it down his fingers to bare the pale skin of his hand. You catch your breath and wonder what this is going to feel like, and then the tips of his fingers meet your cheek and—

you stop breathing.

It doesn’t hurt.

Or if it does, you don’t remember the pain a second later when breath floods back into your lungs. What you do feel is energy. Strength in your muscles, blood pumping through your veins, every inhale and exhale as light as a bird and freer. You feel healthy. You’re surprised you even remember what health feels like but you do: it’s like you’ve only been half alive, and now life is surging into you and through you and around you, bubbling up in your core like a spring overflowing. You blink rapidly, thinking you might cry from the sheer pleasure of it, but when you open your mouth it’s laughter that comes out. You’re healthy. You’re alive. You barely notice the IV line literally falling off of your skin because the hole where it entered your vein is sealed shut and healed perfectly.

No more needles. No more hospitals. Even without all the monitors beeping out your heart rate and measuring your vitals, there’s not a shred of doubt in your mind that you’re cured.

“Thank you!” you laugh, looking up at Overhaul and for the first time, not caring that he’s evil incarnate. “I feel—I’m okay! It worked!”

“Of course it did.” His expression is inscrutable, but he lets you have a few moments to enjoy your newfound health.

You roll your shoulders back, flex each muscle you can isolate one by one to test, make fists with your fingers and then run them over your hair, which is already thicker and shinier than it was a moment ago. Your body thrums with energy—you want to run, to feel the ground against your bare feet and the cold night air on your face, and you think you could do it! Your legs are already swinging over the side of your cot, ready to run barefoot out of the hospital if that’s what it takes, but before you can stand up Overhaul’s pushing you back down onto the bed.

“Have you forgotten your end of the bargain already?”

Honestly you did forget, but only for a second, only because you were so excited to just be outside again. “Oh, yeah. Of course.” Your hand goes to your left ring finger, ready to slip the ring off and hand it over, but Overhaul shakes his head.

“Not here.”

“What—?”

You’re falling. Your hospital room is disappearing, the image of your walls and your window and your bed disintegrating into yawning black, and you’re falling through it into nothing, into emptiness, and Overhaul’s still-bare hand in yours is the only anchor you have so you clutch onto it and squeeze your eyes shut. You want to scream—that’s the sane thing to do when you’re falling through miles and miles of empty space, right?—but when you open your throat the sound is swallowed up just like the light was…

Overhaul’s hand burns into yours, an improbable lifeline that you pull closer more out of terror than conscious thought. The slick, empty air rushes around you and you think I am going to die like this and then, incredibly, as soon as you’ve accepted your imminent demise, you feel your back mold onto a chilled, flat surface, vertebra by vertebra up to the back of your head, as if you’ve been lain down onto it.

Your heart thuds in your ears and you brace for an impact because your body hasn’t quite accepted yet that it’s not falling anymore—but at the same time, you know you’re lying down on something. You pry your fingers away from their vice-grip on Overhaul’s arm and feel around blindly for what’s underneath you, and when it seems reasonably tangible you let yourself open your eyes.

Way above, vaulted dozens of feet over your head, is a ceiling studded with gilt-edged frescoes and stained glass. It’s raining (even though it wasn’t in the hospital, you think) but through the massive panes of colored glass there’s enough oily blue light to make out that you’re in a church.

You’re in a church, with a demon. Isn’t that against the rules?

You sit up stiffly and look over at Overhaul, who’s standing at your side and looking down at you…which is how you realize the soft, cold surface you’ve been deposited onto is the blanket on top of the altar in the sanctuary. “Where...did you take me?”

“You should know this place.”

And you do, when you look around. It’s empty now and you’ve never been here at night, but this is a church your mother would bring you to when you were little, back before the disease got so bad you couldn’t risk traveling to it anymore. This is where you took your purity vow…the ring feels heavy on your hand. “Why—why—“

“I can’t stand human hospitals. Filthy places… How that reek of illness and death doesn’t bother your kind, I’ll never understand.” Overhaul pulls his latex glove back on. He’s dressed differently now, no longer impersonating a doctor—black shirt, black pants, and a…bird mask in red leather and gold. So are you, as a matter of fact. Instead of your hospital gown, you’re in a gauzy white dress that’s already been pushed up to pool around the tops of your thighs.

The slip is too thin for the cold, and you can feel your nipples standing up under the cloth so you fold your arms over your chest and hug yourself. “Why did you take me here?” The sound of your voice echoes off the walls eerily and you wish you hadn’t spoken so loudly. The reflection of your words sounds girlish, nervous.

“I told you. Your side of our contract.” Even in this dark, the angular features of his face are clearly concentrating—on you. “Are you already having second thoughts? Such a fickle little thing…”

“You mean the ring?” You reach for it again, ready to tear it off and throw it at him if that’s what it takes to see your deal through, but Overhaul snatches your hand away, pinning it above you.

“Not the ring,” he says. “The promise.”

The…promise?

A chill makes its way down your spine despite the heat radiating off the demon’s body and onto yours. “I don’t understand.”

“The promise,” Overhaul repeats—and you hear a sound almost like wings flapping and then he’s on the altar with you, knees straddling your hips as a single hand holds both your wrists above your head. “To remain a virgin until marriage. Your promise to God.”

A streak of lightning cracks down on the other side of the stained glass window behind the altar, illuminating the room briefly in spectacular pits of red and orange and yellow…and then it’s dark again, and the only color you can make out is the gold in Overhaul’s eyes.

“I’m going to break it,” he murmurs, lowering his head toward your ear right as the answering thunder rolls through the sanctuary, up through the altar, up into you.

///

Méfiez-vous de son piège, the grimoire said. Beware of the catch.

Of course it wasn’t just a ring.

Overhaul’s fingers are in—inside you, his middle and ring finger pumping through the length of your cunt like they belong there, like you were made to be touched this way. A mixture of your juices and your own spit cling to the latex because he made you suck his fingers before he put them in you and he hasn’t bothered to take his gloves off—not that you asked. You’ve been too busy biting your lip to try and muffle the moans that he keeps forcing out of you. He’s bracing himself on top of you with one hand and fingering you with the other, so your own hands are free to push into your eyes and hide your face…until he yanks your arm back and stops.

“Look at me.”

Your eyes are screwed shut and you shake your head back and forth, the movement shuddering your whole body right down to your pussy wrapped around Overhaul’s fingers. He slows the movement and kneels back, pushing one of your thighs up into your chest as he does it.

“Look at me.”

And you’re not sure whether it’s some unearthly power he has over you or the plain old deterioration of your willpower, but you can’t refuse him. You crack your eyes open and he’s glaring down at you, skin pale as ice in the blue light. Once he’s satisfied that you’re watching, the demon leans back in to fuck your cunt with his fingers, slowly at first and then quicker when he hits something inside of you—a spot, a place on the inner wall of your pussy that makes you feel like you’ve been shocked— heat blooms through you like blood in water and you gasp and he curls his fingers up to pet over that spot again.

“Wait—wait, that’s—it feels—weird!” You’ve never felt like this before. You’re not supposed to feel like this, it’s wrong.

“I understand you’ve never touched yourself, but don’t pretend you don’t like it.” Overhaul says, voice as indifferent and calm as ever even though your cunt is dripping clear sticky liquid over the plastic of his glove.

He pushes back in and grinds his palm over the little button on the top of your pussy—your clit?—and you want to scream. “No, I—I don’t—nnhh...”

Do you like it? The demon’s body is so hot next to yours, like he’s running a fever except you’re the one going out of your mind… You’ve heard metaphors for sexual pleasure before (that it’s like having something to drink when you’re dying of thirst; or that it’s the ultimate act of intimacy, love in physical form) but all of that’s a fucking lie. There’s nothing to compare it to, no reference that makes sense, because it doesn’t make sense—you don’t even want him to keep going, do you? You’re only doing this because you signed your name on a devil’s contract, because you don’t want to die and there’s no alternative…but that doesn’t explain why you feel so warm from the inside out, why you’re squirming and your hips are rocking involuntarily no matter how much you try to keep still. This isn’t right. You feel like you’ve been lied to.

A good girl wouldn’t like this.

Overhaul isn’t going to let you close your eyes, so you don’t—but the sounds coming out of your mouth are so…indecent (and how can you think these things about yourself? the word feels like someone else is saying it when you hear it in your head) that your hand is drifting up to your mouth before you can stop yourself, trying to stifle all of it…

“Let your voice out. I want you to hear yourself moan.”

Long fingers slide their way out of your pussy and then move up to rub quick little circles around your clit and you moan, like a whore, like a girl getting her cunt rubbed by a demon— “Oh, uhhhn—something, it’s—coming—“ There’s something building up in your core—a peak, a climax, something that makes you fist your hands in the nightgown he put you in (so tight you’re surprised the thin fabric hasn’t torn) and tilt your hips up into him, begging without words because you don’t have any to express what your body is asking for…

But he doesn’t give it to you. Overhaul takes his hand away from your pussy and the shock of the cool air after his too-hot touch is almost enough to send you over that edge—almost. Not quite. And without it, you’re left shivering and quaking, thighs twitching as your baser instincts beg you to just put your hand between your legs for once and hump your fingers to completion if the demon won’t do it.

You’re not going to risk that, though. Not when Overhaul’s dragging your body closer, bunching up the blanket on the altar under your spine, so your pelvis is angled to his… He’s already shirtless and you hear him unzipping his pants but you can’t bring yourself to actually look at him, even when you feel something hard and hot nudging up against your inner thigh and then aligning to your sticky wet slit.

“This will hurt a bit, but I want you to look,” he says, and you don’t even understand at first until you make yourself feel it—his cock, pushing up against your tight cunt to finish this, this perversion of what your first time was supposed to be…

And what was it supposed to be? Roses and candles and soft kisses? A nameless, faceless husband unzipping your wedding dress and making love to you with the lights off? The way the demon touches you should be cruel in comparison but it isn’t, it’s lighting fires under your skin and turning your brains to mush, so how is your body supposed to tell the difference?

It’ll hurt, you know that, you’ve heard enough about sex to know that it always hurts the first time for girls…women. It was already a stretch to fit his fingers in your virgin pussy, so of course his cock is going to hurt. You turn your head toward the window at your side and try on look out at the rain drawing rivulets like veins over the glass, something to focus on instead of him.

“I said look,” the demon hisses, and his hips push forward a bit and you bite off a whimper of pain. “Watch me take your virginity…look at your tight little cunt swallowing me up just like it was made to.”

“N-No—“ you whine, even though it’s not like you can ignore it. “Don’t make me, don’t make me look, I can’t—“

“Then look at me.”

It’s what he wants, some kind of wicked satisfaction he gets off on, but you’re lucky enough to even get an option so you choose that one, shifting your gaze up into his face instead of the place where his cock is pressing deeper and deeper inside you. Overhaul’s eyes are half-lidded and it’s hard to tell from behind the mask but the look on his face is…pleasure? No, that would be too human. Restraint, at least. He could just thrust up into your body in one stroke, but he wants you to feel it for some reason.

Maybe because it’s a worse betrayal of your chastity if you want to get fucked.

Lucky for you, though, you can barely feel anything aside from the pain. The heat you felt building earlier is draining out of you even as Overhaul tilts deeper, layering his chest over yours. You’re almost grateful for the modest barrier the dress provides between your torso and the solid muscle of his abdomen. His cock in your pussy feels like it’s too big too deep too much and it’s the first time you’ve felt like your body wasn’t created specifically for this purpose so you hold it tight.

“Does it hurt?”

A second of clarity makes you want to snarl (of course it fucking hurts, I’m losing my virginity to a demon I summoned from hell) and you dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from saying it out loud. Overhaul pulls out a fraction of an inch and then pushes back in and you feel like the breath’s being pushed out of your lungs. “Yes! Yes, it—it hurts—“

“I can make you enjoy it…for a price,” he sighs, settling into a slow rocking motion of his hips pushing into yours.

And you want to, every sore muscle in your cunt is telling you to give in and give up, give him what he wants so you can enjoy it like he says—but you’d rather hate every second of this than make another deal. You shake your head quickly and because you’re still too afraid to look away from him, you don’t miss the look of surprise that flits across his face before he tamps it down. “I don’t—I don’t want to—like it,” you gasp out between thrusts. “It’s better if—if it h-hurts…”

This time it’s obvious—his eyes really do widen, and you feel some petty triumph at having caught him off guard like this. Who’s predictable now? you think—and then he’s lifting one hand off the altar at the side of your head and tugging his glove off with his teeth, and you don’t even have time to be afraid of what he’s going to do to you because it’s too late, his bare fingers are already stroking over your mound and onto your core, massaging into the flesh of your stomach so he can feel his own cock sliding in and out of you—

and it doesn’t hurt anymore?

You only have a second to try and understand—he cured you, he healed the pain from your first time just like he healed your illness?—before he hooks his grip under your thigh and folds your legs into your chest so he can fuck into you harder than before. His cock slaps into your pussy and you can hear it, hear how wet your filthy little cunt is, smeared through with your juices. It’s sick—the sound of skin against skin, and the moaning you can’t hold back, you sound like a woman in a porno and you wish the pain would come back just so you could keep hating what he’s doing to you. “What—what did you do—“

The demon ignores you. “It feels good, doesn’t it.”

“Nn—“ It’s deeper like this…deeper and rougher and you can feel it. Now that the pain’s been reduced to the dull ache of a stretched muscle, you can feel everything—his cock sliding against that same spot in your cunt that makes you want to squeal, the friction of his body moving against your clit, all of it, everything you wanted to block out— he pumps into you and you hear your breath sobbing out a moan a second out of rhythm, the sounds of you bouncing on demon cock echoing over the walls. “Please—ah, ahhh…”

“‘Please?’ Are you begging—me, little girl?” Overhaul pushes your thigh up and drags his cock through you, excruciatingly slow, forcing you to feel the thick head slide over every gummy wall in your slick pussy.

You shake your head, mewl, try to force your hips to stop rocking back into his and grinding your clit against him. But you can’t. You’re a—you were a virgin, for fuck’s sake! Overhaul’s immortal. Probably thousands of years of experience on how to make you feel like you want this, like you’re only alive in the places he touches you… You’re at his mercy, if he has any. You never stood a chance.

“Then are you begging your god?” His body lowers directly onto yours and like you’re being controlled by puppet strings your arms fold around him and rake your fingernails uselessly into the smooth skin of his back. You can feel the vibration of his mirthless laughter through his chest. “It must hurt terribly…to know he isn’t listening.”

“Don’t—stop, please,” you sob. “Don’t say—don’t stop—please!”

“Listen to yourself, girl—“ Overhaul’s breath is faster now, but you don’t have time to question it because you feel your peak coming again, the tension rising up through your cunt and your abdomen, harsher and crueler than when his fingers were in you but you want it just as much. More. “Has he ever answered your prayers? Has he...ahh, fuck—who’s the one giving you what you need?”

“No— please, please just let me let me, please—“ You’re talking nonsense now, begging for the release—at least then it’ll be over, and you need it, you need it so badly you feel your muscles locking up, cramping, your ankles crossing each other behind Overhaul’s back.

“Good girl,” the demon breathes, and then he lifts off you so he’s kneeling upright with the two of you still connected, his thick, heavy cock still speared in your pussy, and his fingers come down again to rub at your clit. Everything’s so wet you can hear the motion of his fingers slicking themselves through your juices, sliding up and down the little button over and over and it feels so good that a tiny part of you almost wants to drag it out, to savor it, but the rest of your body is going to die, is going to go crazy if the demon doesn’t let you cum right now, right now, right now!

And he does. Praise the Lord. The pads of Overhaul’s fingers pass over your clit one last time and your head rolls back, your throat moves but you can’t even make a sound, your legs shake and you cum.

You didn’t know it was like this.

Your cunt squeezes down on his cock, throbbing and pulsing and your toes literally curl (you didn’t think that was a real thing!) and your vision goes black for a moment and—oh fuck oh fuck i want this i want more how is it possible that i’ve never felt like this—you understand, more intimately than ever, why sex is wrong:

because nothing that makes you feel this good could possibly come without a cost, could it?

///

It must take longer than you thought for you to come back to your senses, because when you regain awareness of your body you’re in your hospital bed. You’re clean, too, and you wonder for a second if Overhaul bothered to clean you up? Or no…he probably just snapped his fingers and transported you back to your room. You’re not really sure how it works.

What you are sure of, however, is that you just got fucked by a demon. You’re sore in places that you didn’t know it was possible to be sore, and there are already bruises forming on the flesh of your thighs from how tight he was holding you. You don’t really have time to inspect these, though, because apparently your…ordeal (if you can call it that) isn’t over.

Overhaul’s still here.

He’s facing the hints of sunrise through the east window, dressed again in the immaculate lab coat and surgeon’s mask. “You’re awake,” he says without looking at you.

You nod hesitantly. You’re not really sure what the protocol is in this situation, but at least you’ve finally held up your side of the contract, right? And so has he. Despite having been up all night doing sinful things, you’re still itching to get out of this bed and test the limits of your healthy body. “You’re…going to leave, right?”

“Yes—”

At that, you sigh in relief and settle back into your starched bedsheets.

“But there’s one more thing you owe me.”

“Goddamnit,” you swear for the very first time in your life. After what you just did, taking the Lord’s name in vain seems like a relatively minor sin.

Overhaul’s mildly irritated expression doesn’t change, but he holds his hand out to you, palm up, the way you imagine someone would if they were helping you out of a car or requesting a dance at an old-fashioned ball. And really, you want all of this to be over—you want to get out of this hospital, you want to taste what the air outside is like, you want to distract yourself from what you just gave up in exchange for a future. At this point you’re just going to have to hope God isn’t as picky about the whole premarital sex thing as you grew up believing.

So you put your hand in Overhaul’s.

Slowly, carefully, like he’s afraid it’ll burn him, he slides your purity ring down your finger and balances it in the palm of his bare hand. It sizzles when he touches it, glowing orange until it eventually burns down into a ash-black circle in the center of his palm. Once he’s satisfied that your pretty little ring has been reduced to nothing more than a scorch mark, he closes his hand around yours and you feel something sharp, painfully hot, etching onto your finger.

It’s over in a second, but you still yelp and yank your hand away from him as soon as he lets you. “Ah—ow, what was that?”

He burned you, he literally burned you! He’s already healed it, but there’s still a thin, pale scar, an intentional one left wrapping around the skin at the base of your left ring finger. Like a wedding ring.

When you look close, you can make out a symbol on the back of your finger where the cross used to sit—and even though your conscious mind doesn’t recognize it, the sight of it rings out something inside your ribcage, deeper and truer than flesh and blood. It’s the devil’s mark, you think. It’s his.

“…A promise,” Overhaul says softly, and even though it’s a chilly morning, you can feel the heat of his hands on yours a long time after he vanishes back into the dark.

#overhaul x reader #chisaki kai x reader #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #mha imagines #tw dubcon #tw sacrilege #tw christianity #overhaul #chisaki kai #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia x reader #boku no hero imagines #my hero academia x reader #my hero imagines #boku no hero fanfic #smut

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 3 years ago

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With you changing your name, did you just vibe with Elanor more? I'm just curious because plenty of people I know didn't like their names when they were kids but very few ever changed it. (And it is a very beautiful name, good choice)

Okay so the TL;DR is, it was my Dad's suggestion and I liked it, and I think because he chose it, it felt"proper".

The longer version:

When tiny baby Elanor was born, premature and sickly and yellow and brown eyed and black haired (a surprise to all), my parents had a list of names but had sort of narrowed it down to Elanor Middle-name - and then I was a six-pound gremlin and my Mam didn't think I looked like an Elanor. This was fair, as I did not look human, even. Some real changeling bullshit.

The problem was, my parents had fought to get those names by then because my mother, an otherwise normal human of sound mind and judgement, could not come up with names for shit. Previous suggestions to my father included such gems as Florence and Martha, and while those have certainly seen a surge in popularity in the decades since, at the time those were entirely and exclusively Old Lady Names. Also they are extremely English, and my working class Welsh father nearly carried her over the border and flung her in a pond for the presumption. So a new name? Again??! Here we fucking go, bois.

My sister meanwhile was No Help. She was three and her favourite possession at the time was a collectable china piggy bank from Natwest whose full title was Sir Nathaniel Westminster Piggy, so she was firmly insistent that I be called Thaniel. Fortunately, Dad vetoed that one, too, though it would be six months before she stopped calling me it anyway.

Anyway, so here's my poor dad, realising that it took eight fucking months to even think of the two they'd settled on, gazing with a dreadful inevitability at the deadline of the registrar coming and asking for a name, terrified of the hellish teenage years to come if Martha Nathaniel Piggy goes down on the birth certificate, and he says to my exhausted post-birth mother "But my lovely... we loved the name Elanor? It's Elvish, we're dweebs, we love that."

"Good point," says my mam. "It can be another middle name."

"Right," says my dad weakly, now fearing the moment the registrar will need to write 'page 1 of 3' as the first words on the birth certificate, but being himboically devoted to my name-stupid mother. "So what did you have in mind?"

And thus I got my birth name, along with two middle names, one of which was Elanor.

The problem:

I fucking hated my birth name.

I just hated it. It was a palindrome, but there I run out of good things to say about it, because it was twee and boring and also, crucially, the abbreviation of it is the ugliest, naffest, most cutesy-wutesy disgusting syllable in all of human verbal communication. It was vile. It was very pretty little girl, which was never me, really. And you know, kids are dickheads, so everyone in my class would use that stupid fucking abbreviation.

Meanwhile, my dad always called me Nell. No one else does, before or since, and at the time I didn't actually realise it was a shortening of my middle name, I just thought it was a Special name between us. My sister managed to lose the urge to call me Thaniel, though, so that was good.

Anyway the day in question happened when I was six. I'd had a Day in school with the cruelty of children, in a bunch of ways but crucially, with them using that grotesque abbreviation of my birth name. I told them not to. They did it more. I pushed a boy into a puddle. It was a whole thing.

So I got home from school, barged into the living room, and went "I WANT TO CHANGE MY NAME."

"Really?" my mother said, mildly. "What do you want-?"

She paused. In the background we could hear a noise getting louder, a thundering of footsteps, accompanied by a sort of one-note scream.

"Any ideas for a name?" she asked weakly, the sound of the back door being kicked in echoing through to us.

"No," I said stubbornly. The noise became deafening, approaching the living room. "But I don't want to be called-"

The living room door blasted inwards. In my memory it splintered into matches. My father catapulted himself into the room like a cat reacting to an unexpected banana. He spun to me, seizing me by the lapels. He stared frantically into my eyes.

My mother sighed deeply, having her own vision of the future.

"He is about to be insufferable," she muttered.

"CALL YOURSELF ELANOR," he shrieked at a surprisingly steady operatic high C. "IT WAS ALWAYS YOUR NAME. IT'S ELVISH. YOU'RE A DWEEB. YOU LOVE THAT."

And I said, "This madman makes a compelling point."

And my mother said, "I'll make some calls."

And that was that. The next day in school my teacher told the class to use my new name. My grandmother struggled to remember but she would also call me the dog's name sometimes so whatever. My father was indeed insufferable.

I changed it officially when I got married, from birthname middle-name Elanor to Elanor middle-name birthname. My sister, to this day, is jealous of me having two middle names to her one.

#tedious personal details

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randomshyperson · 4 years ago

Text

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Land of Thieves #ChapterOne

Western/ Red Dead Redemption AU / Slow Burn / childhood best friends to lovers

Gif is not mine.

Read on AO3 (English Version)

Ler no AO3 / “Terra de Ladrões” (Versão Português)

Chapter warnings: explicit language, explicit violence.

Word count for this chapter: 4002K

Summary: When you were a child, you swore that no matter how high the reward in your head, she could always count on you. Life as an outlaw in the west is not easy, but you believe that train robberies are still easier than asking a pretty girl to dance. Land of Thieves, also know as your love story with Wanda Maximoff in the Wild West.

Pt.1 || Pt. 2 || Pt. 3 || Pt.4 || Pt.5 || Pt.6 || Pt.7 || Pt.8 || Pt.9 || Pt.10 || Pt.11

You were covered in mud and blood when you entered the saloon. Curious and judgmental eyes turned to you, but you didn't stare back. Stretching your back, you felt your whole body ache; the recent beating was sure to leave marks. Walking over to the counter, you threw three gold coins onto the wood, muttering in a mumbled tone "bath" to the saloon keeper. He nodded slightly, showing you the way to the restrooms. As you washed up, you grumbled against the recent cuts, but you were happy to know that you hadn't been shot. Your body ached, but without bullet wounds, you would be better in no time. A pretty girl who worked in the saloon smiled at you when she took your muddy clothes to wash them, and you looked away blushing helplessly. She handed you new clothes before she left. When you finished your shower, you put on the white silk shirt, and beat-up jeans that were handed to you. The boots were not new, but they were comfortable. You also put on spurs, but they didn't give you suspenders, so you left the shirt loose against your body, enjoying the lightness. Attaching your holstered belt to your waist, you checked to be sure your Schofield revolver was clean and locked before you holstered it. You walked to the top floor of the saloon, ignoring the curious glances cast at you on the way. You hoped that no one would recognize you from the reward posters, but you weren't so sure about that, since your face was quite exposed without your hat, which must now be somewhere lost in the middle of New Elizabeth, or on some thief's head. Whistling softly, you walked to the saloon balcony, watching the town below. Valentine is a ranching town, small and not very crowded. Lots of pedestrians, you observe. You light a cigarette as you watch the citizens go about their mundane lives, many opportunities passing before your eyes. You let your gaze wander to the town bank, a few meters ahead on the right of the saloon. You notice that security is low. Making mental notes about everything you could observe from there, you put out your cigarette, returning to the lower part of the saloon, toward the counter. - A whiskey and a beef stew. - You grumble, handing the bartender some coins. He nods in agreement and in a few minutes you get your meal. While you are sitting at the farthest table in the room, you listen attentively to the conversation of two men at the poker table, who have caught your attention. - My cousin saw the carriages in Saint Denis. Four horses in each, and he said that the riders were armed to the teeth." - The skinny man commented excitedly, his friend didn't look so happy. - Those damned bankers are like pests of the soil. You saw what happened to that southern town, I think it was called White Gate. - commented the man with the mustache, his expression frowning. - After the oil ran out, everybody lost their jobs. Stark closed the mine and the citizens began to starve. Almost everyone moved to the neighboring towns. Stark. The name was not strange to you, but you could not tell exactly where you had heard it before. You finished your stew, deciding that Steve would want to know about both the bank and the possible rich men who were visiting the town. Finishing your whiskey in one gulp, you stood up, leaving the saloon just as you collected your freshly washed clothes from the same woman who had brought them. It was hot and humid outside. Knight, your Hungarian half-breed horse, grunted with delight when you stroked his mane. You smiled at him before you mounted. You rode south, figuring you would have no trouble finding the new camp site, and trying to remember Bucky's instructions about where exactly they were. It took some time, but you finally found the camp. You dismounted Knight as you entered the area between the trees, walking calmly to the largest tent. Steve Rogers was like a father to you. When your birth parents died of cholera, you ran away from the orphanage the government put you in, and started living on the streets. You were only seven years old, but you were smart enough to hide in one of the garbage carts when the nuns weren't looking, and you ran away because you couldn't stand being beaten by the older children and your own teachers. You ended up somewhere in West Elizabeth, and while trying to steal some food, you were chased by two officers. But just as they were about to catch up with you, someone knocked them out. You smiled when Steve held out a big piece of bread and water to you. From that moment on, you lived with him. The Avengers gang became your family. Steve took care of you, and trained you as an outlaw. You learned everything that was essential to survive in the Wild West, from hunting to murder. And as the years passed, other people joined the gang, and you accepted them all as your family. When Steve saw you, he smiled tenderly, wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief as he motioned for you to enter the tent. - So, kiddo, what did you find out in Valentine? - asked the man as you sat down in the opposite position, on a wooden chair. - They have a poorly protected bank. - You shrugged. - But you know how these small towns are, the risk is almost always not worth the gain. - That's too bad, we need money. Especially to buy medicine. You let out a low exclamation of agreement, you knew exactly how difficult the situation was. It had been a particularly difficult season for the gang. With Fury's death at the last service, and the move out of town to get away from the officers, you were still facing a wave of illness. Carol and Bruce had been feverish and bedridden for days, and Thor had been shot during an unsuccessful robbery. - I overheard an interesting conversation, though. - You say, and Steve looks at you curiously. - Some rich people are coming to Valentine in a few days. The name Stark was mentioned, have you ever heard of it? Steve's eyes widen in surprise and excitement. - Of course I have! - he exclaims. - Filthy rich folks there! Rich enough to lend us a little money without even noticing. - I think Stark is going to buy the oil mines at Heartlands. And he's staying in Valentine while he does the negotiations. - That's excellent. - Steve says, running his hand along his chin in a thoughtful expression. - If the deposit is made in Valentine, we will have the purchase money first hand. You nodded. - But even if the deposit is made here, the money is sure to be transferred to Saint Denis. - You retort, trying to think of all the details of the scam. - Which means that we have to steal the money the same day it is deposited, or we only stand a chance during the transfer. Steve stood up, walking around the tent with the same thoughtful expression on his face. - No, no. - He began to speak as if the alternatives were rapidly forming in his head. - The carriage will be extremely protected. In the gunfire, we can be very worried about not getting killed, which will give them a chance to escape to the city. And then we'll have no way to reach them there. You sighed, knowing that he was right. You frowned, trying to think of something, but Steve soon spoke again. - We need to do this while the money is in the bank. And we have to do it fast. - He says, and then walks to the edge of the hut, looking around the field. He whistles, attracting the attention of Peggy Carter, who is chopping wood, and when she raises her curious gaze to him, Steve beckons her to join him. - What is it, Rogers? - Peggy asks gently. You exchange a smile with her. - We've got a new hit. - He says, making room for Peggy to join you. - Is Bucky around? - He went out hunting a few minutes ago. The twins went with him. - Peggy says and you rest your face on your own hand, waiting for Steve to speak again. - Oh right. I'll explain the details to them later. - The blond man says, walking around the cabin to the table in the opposite corner, and he takes a pen and paper and begins to write down what you think of as a rough draft of the plan. - We will rob Valentine's bank then. - I thought that banks in small towns were not worth the risk. - Peggy commented with a slightly confused expression. - Ah, but we have a unique opportunity. - Steve remarked, bringing the doodle over to Peggy. - Howard Stark, big oil guy, is going to buy the Heartlands mines. The purchase money will be deposited in Valentine before being transferred to Saint Denis. I believe we will have about a few hours to rob the bank - Steve, are you sure this is a good idea? - Peggy assumed a worried posture. - We are short on snipers... - It's a great idea. - He interrupts, looking at Peggy seriously, but still maintaining a calm tone. - We need the money, Peggy. If this is planned correctly, we don't have to worry about the number of weapons. - I appreciate the confidence in my abilities, by the way. - You playfully push your shoulder lightly against Peggy, she smiles at you. - Of course I trust you, Y/N. - She answers, but her gaze is still worried. - We just need to be careful in this job. You spend the rest of the afternoon planning. It doesn't take long for Bucky to join you. He hands a deer carcass to Pietro, who carries it back to the supply hut. Steve repeats the plan, and you let your gaze drift quickly to Wanda, who smiles at you, and you feel something in your stomach drop. Blushing, you look away, turning your attention back to Steve. It is already night when you have finally finished working out the plan. Wanda and Pietro joined you at some point, and you had to mentally repeat to yourself to pay attention to Steve's words and not to the redheaded girl a few feet away. You didn't want your passion to cost your life or put everyone else in danger because you didn't absorb the plan correctly, but you were getting to this level of unfocused. You felt a light tug on your arm as you walked toward the fire, and found yourself smiling wryly as you faced Wanda already looking at you. - I got my first deer today. - She declared, looking up at you with bright eyes, a tone of pride and happiness in her voice. You raise your eyebrows in a pleased expression. - What? That's amazing, Wands. - You replied. - I told you that you would learn soon! I would have liked to have seen it. - We can hunt together. - She says, and you try not to show your nervousness at the thought of being alone with Wanda, but you don't disguise it very well, which makes Wanda confused, and she looks almost disappointed when she quickly adds - Pietro can come with us too. You blink a few times, believing her to be clarifying that she had no intention of spending time alone with you, and swallowing dryly, you nod in agreement. - Yes, yes. Sure, we should call him too. - You say taking a few steps back, hands in your pockets as you stare uncomfortably at the floor. Wanda bites her lower lip lightly, finding you extremely difficult to decipher. You spend a moment in silence, before she speaks again - We can go tomorrow afternoon if you have no business in town. You think about it for a moment, trying to remember if you had made any appointments, if any robbery opportunities had been signaled to you, but you can't think of anything. - No, it's fine. We can hunt tomorrow. - You say, trying not to be too embarrassed by the contented smile Wanda flashes at you. She was probably going to say it was marked, but Pietro interrupted the moment by extending a bowl of stew in front of her face. Wanda blinked a few times in confusion, but thanked her brother as soon as she grabbed the item. Pietro turned to you next, a relaxed posture as he took a sip of the beer he was holding. - What were you two talking about? - he asked, his tone curious. - It's rude to snoop, you know. - You teased, drawing a short laugh from Wanda, and Pietro rolled his eyes stubbornly, but smiled. - We're going hunting tomorrow. I'll show Y/N that I learned how to use the bow on some deer. - explained Wanda, looking at her brother. - Will you come with us? Pietro frowned, denying with his head. - Sorry, little sister. - He speaks seriously, but his eyes have a malice in them that you didn't know how to recognize. - I'd love to join you on your date, but I have an appointment. You and Wanda blush at the insinuation, but Pietro continues with a playful aura as he takes another sip of beer. Although embarrassed, you can't help but be happy to know that you would be spending some time alone with the girl. - Oh, all right. - Wanda says in what seems to be an attempt to sound disappointed, but her eyes sparkle slightly as she speaks. You don't notice, but Pietro smiles at the expression. - You're full of secrets lately. What kind of appointment? Pietro laughs, shrugging his shoulders. He walks toward you with a playful expression, and puts his arm around your shoulders, smiling at Wanda as he leans on you. - Your girlfriend taught me how to play poker and now I am famous, my presence is requested in Rhodes. I need to bet and win some money for this place. You choke slightly on the phrase and feel your face heat up, looking down at the floor. Wanda lets out a nervous laugh, and pushes her brother lightly, making him let go of you. - You mean lose money, don't you? - she teases. - Even Thor plays better than you, and he usually just flips the table. You laugh, risking a glance at Wanda, who has a reddened face and quickly exchanges a smile with you. Pietro rolls his eyes and walks past you, waving goodbye. Deciding that you should eat something, you nod to Wanda that you are going to the fire. She smiles and follows you silently

You didn't hunt very often. Although you were good at it, it was not your function in the camp. You were a gunslinger, and your jobs usually involved carriage robberies and trespassing, even the occasional robbery. You were always part of the team for the big scams. And then Wanda invited you to go deer hunting and you became an anxious mess. Stumbling out of your tent, you hurried to take a quick swim in the creek near the campground. It was important not to smell too strongly when you went out hunting, as the animals could more easily notice you. Coming out of the water with wet hair, you put on your clothes, leaving the suspenders hanging from your waist and a few buttons open on your shirt. You were feeling heated. You waited for Wanda at the campfire. She also bathed before meeting you, and she seemed slightly anxious when she found you. You smiled as you poured some coffee, and Wanda looked a little airy when she accepted the cup. You didn't understand why, but the sight of your relaxed appearance, your loose hair and your exposed collarbone was absolutely irresistible to her, making Wanda feel heated in places that were not appropriate. You joked that soon she would become the best hunter in the camp, and you were happy to make her smile. As you rode out of the camp, you smiled as you felt Wanda lightly tap her foot against yours, as you used to play with as children. Riding in silence for a few minutes, you enjoyed the gentle breeze until you came to a hunting spot. You descended from Knight slowly, stretching your body when you reached the ground. Wanda watched your shirt lift and reveal some skin, then she looked away quickly, her face red. You cast a curious look, thinking she was feeling heat. Grabbing your rifle stored on the horse, you watched Wanda take from Lily's saddle - her red sorrel - a longbow and some arrows. You walked in silence, heading for the shallow part of the creek beside you, where you could easily find deer. It was comfortable to be in Wanda's presence, even in silence. Neither of you had to say anything to know exactly what to do next, your body following her along the way as if you had done this many times before. One look and you knew when to wait, or when to be quiet. It didn't take long before you spotted the deer. There weren't many, and Wanda bent down in front of you to take aim. You watched her with admiration. She raised her bow, and you noticed the slight tremor in her hands and frowned. You came forward, also bent down, and stood beside her. - There's no need to be nervous, Wands. - You whispered softly. - It's just me. The trembling in their hands seemed to diminish, but it was still there. You moved closer, raising your hands to join Wanda's, helping her to keep a steady aim. - Take a deep breath. - You said against her ear, waiting for her to obey. - And then shoot. With her speech, Wanda let go. The arrow cut through the air with speed, hitting the animal straight in the head. A perfect shot. You smiled, and when you looked at Wanda, she was already looking at you. You were about to congratulate her on the shot, but Wanda hugged you by the neck, surprising you. You felt your face heat up and due to the shock, you didn't respond to the hug, your body seeming asleep for an instant. Wanda let you go quickly, her face flushed with apology. You were about to tell her it was okay, and maybe hug her back, then you heard an animalistic noise that attracted your full attention, a low growl that you knew all too well. Glad you had brought your rifle, you looked around, searching for the source of the noise. Wanda blinked curiously, but you didn't look at her again. Standing up, you held the rifle with both hands, your gaze roaming the surroundings. A moment later, the bushes a few feet away moved, and you watched the creature sneak through the undergrowth, only to run toward you the next second, preparing to jump. The sound of gunfire echoed for a few seconds after the shot. You let out the breath you were holding and watched the panther lying on the ground, just a few inches away from your feet. Wanda looked at you in shock, and you offered your hand to help her up. - Sorry for the scare. - You grumbled, walking towards the panther intent on retrieving the skin, which should be worth a few dozen dollars. - We always have to be careful not to become the prey during the hunt. - How did you hear it? - Wanda asked curiously. - Practice I guess. - You said, kneeling down beside the panther. - Every sound around us is important. - You explained - Pay attention now, for example. Besides my voice, what do you hear? Wanda seemed to think for a moment. - I can only hear water, I think. Maybe birds. - She confesses, you finish cutting the skin off the animal in front of you. - Oh, sorry. - You say quickly. - I forgot that I just drove all the animals away with the noise of the rifle. You laugh to yourself, and Wanda smiles at you tenderly. - Let's go after that deer. I'll teach you to hear the sounds another day. - You tell her as you stand up. Walking over to the dead deer, you observe Wanda kneeling beside the animal, drawing her own knife. - Bucky taught you how to skin? - you ask, watching the firm but still amateurish cut Wanda was giving the animal. - Yes, he told me to skin rabbits before he taught me to cut the deer during yesterday's hunt. - said the red-haired girl focused on the activity. You tried not to blush as you watched a drop of sweat trickle down your neck. - I learned to skin animals from him too. - You commented as you waited for Wanda to finish the task. - I was a little smaller, I think. - I guess it took long enough for us to learn how to hunt, didn't it? - Wanda joked, drawing a smile from you. It was true, hunting had been the last activity Steve and Bucky taught you. For some reason, teaching them to shoot was a higher priority than getting food from the wild. A moment later, Wanda finished, raising the deer leather in the air, showing off her work proudly. You laughed at her expression, signaling for her to step away from the animal. You handed her your rifle, and bent down, grabbing the carcass with both hands and throwing it over your shoulders to carry it to the horse. It was quite heavy, but you concentrated your breathing as Bucky had taught you, and managed to carry the animal to Wanda's sorrel. After placing the carcass on the back of the animal, you grunted when you saw the state of your shirt, completely covered in blood. - What's the matter? - Wanda asked curiously when she heard your sigh. - Pepper made me promise not to come covered in blood to the camp anymore. - You say, rolling up your sleeves. - She told me she would put me to sleep with the horses if I showed up like this again. Of course, she will probably just change my watch shifts, but it will still be a pain to hear the lecture. - You could have told me to carry the deer. - Wanda retorted, looking at you with a mixture of seriousness and guilt. You just smiled. - Don't be silly, I just need to clean up before I go back. - You said simply, and Wanda frowned in confusion. And then she choked in surprise, watching you pull your shirt over your head. You went around her body and towards the creek. It took Wanda a few seconds to snap out of her shock, then she turned her head toward the creek, her face flushed. You rubbed the fabric with your hands, watching the blood drip into the water. You put your shirt aside only to wet your own body, wiping any traces of blood from your skin. Completely oblivious to the shy mess Wanda had become as she watched you wash yourself. Finished cleaning yourself, you wrung out your shirt, getting as much water buildup out as possible. You put your clothes back on, feeling the damp fabric against your skin. Wanda stood in the same place you had left her, and you frowned when you saw her look quickly away from you, her face red. You suddenly felt very embarrassed, thinking that you must have crossed some boundary with her. Coughing awkwardly, you walked toward your own horse. You rode in silence back to the camp, you mentally going over the whole conversation trying to find what you had done wrong that made Wanda so quiet. You were surprised when you heard her singing softly. Smiling without looking at her, you slowed down the speed of Knight's gallop, trying to enjoy the moment to the fullest. Wanda continued to sing the whole way, and you tried to ignore the feeling of butterflies in your stomach

#wanda maximoff x reader #marvel reader insert #western au #wanda maximoff #wanda x you #wanda x reader #marvel imagines #red dead redemption au #Land of Thieves

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chibimyumi · 4 years ago

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Hey there! hope you're doing well! So I've seen a few takes from people saying that Seb lacks character developement and I wanted to ask your opinion on this? I feel like some people just want him to have some kind of "redemption arc" which sounds weird to me because by now I'd guess people would understand his character and motivations?

Dear Anon,

I am doing great, thank you very much. I hope you too ^^

Sorry for the late reply! It was not for lack of interest because yours is a very interesting question to ask. Indeed, for any other character I would say that for a main character he lacks character development. However, with Sebastian Michaelis specifically I would disagree, because there are multiple factors that dramatically change matters for him. The most important one being Sebas’ age.

Four Years vs Centuries?

Sebas is a supernatural entity that has been around and for centuries if not millennia. We know next to nothing about this demon’s past, but one of the few things we do know is that he has been around and seen quite a lot of the world thanks to his old age.

The older one is, the more fixed their personality is, meaning the less malleable it becomes. Of course nobody is too old to grow or change, but it will ultimately require more time or effort to change such a person.

In our current story Sebas has been around for barely 4 years, which to him must be an equivalent of a few hours in human life. Let’s say you are 20 years old with a certain set of beliefs, principles, personality traits, etc. Now imagine going somewhere you probably have been to before for one hour, and that in that one hour you suddenly change entirely. Not impossible, but quite unlikely.

What must happen before a person would change in such a relative short time must be the occurrence of something either exceptionally shocking, or exceptionally inspiring. In Sebas’ case, at least one did happen, namely the former.

Exceptionally Shocking

As discussed in some detail in this post, the exceptionally shocking did in fact happen to Sebas in his current contract. Canonically Sebas said that he never fought reapers before he fought Grell, and therefore we also know that Undertaker is the second reaper he ever fought seriously. Judging from Sebas’ casual and confident reaction when Grell first invited him for a fight, we know Sebas never had any reason before that time to fear for his life. I mean, look at this confident bitch (Ô_ó)p.

Even after Sebas got really hurt by Grell, he still managed to say something as cocky as: “I have never fought [a reaper] before, so I cannot tell [whether I can beat one]. But if my master tells me to win, I shall.” That is certainly NOT the same Sebas as the one we know now.

After the Campania brawl, we see very clearly how Sebas’ attitude and confidence changed entirely, exactly because for the first time ever he experienced something exceptionally shocking; his life and death was outside his own control. The English translations I have seen are not bad, but they miss a bit of the nuance in the Japanese version. In the Japanese version when Sebas says that even a demon like him cannot withstand a blow from the death scythe, there was some eye-opening realisation in his tone. He learned something new there.

And indeed, most tellingly even at the mere mention of the Undertaker or the prospect of having to run into him again, even Sebas swallows his pride in front of his master, and admits he’d really rather not.

Much later in chapter 85 when they were investigating the mourning lockets, master and servant have a moment of silence thinking about the Undertaker. While to O!Ciel the important memory is Undertaker’s “it is my treasure,” Sebas thinks about the very first thing Undertaker said to him upon deciding to let him live: “I knew you would succeed at protecting the Earl.”

As explained in this post, Sebas has come to project condescension onto Undertaker. Sebas suspects Undertaker is looking down on him, and understandably so because he has no reason to believe otherwise. “I knew you would [...]” is a phrase that reflects control in Undertaker’s hands, and Sebas really hates that. For once Sebas is the prey, and somebody else the predator.

Now here is the character development; Sebas went from over confident and cocky to a demon with PTSD.

(Exceptionally) Inspiring

Though less explicit and game-changing, I would argue that something inspiring also occurred in Sebas’ short time on Earth this time: his master. In this post I compared O!Ciel to a piece of unprocessed raw meat to Sebas, as opposed to other past masters probably being a microwave-meal equivalent. O!Ciel is young and started without power, so to Sebas one he started to see the potential of a fully self-customisable meal, he really started to feel the excitement.

Though, however excited, it would only be a small blip on Sebastian’s radar. In the same post just mentioned, I also discussed how it is very unlikely that eating O!Ciel will change Sebas’ view on humankind because it would need to alter someone’s view shaped through thousands of years.

In this same sense I also argue that though Sebas did change over the course of 4 years in the human world, he wouldn’t change dramatically. His experience in the past four years must be like one grain of sand on a banked scale.

Sebas and Redemption?

My short answer would just be: “Kuroshitsuji ain’t some religiously-laden morale story wherein even a demon must be redeemed,” but that would not be fair (and too short for my M.O.)

It’s an unpopular opinion, but a good character arc or story does not require a redemption arc to work. It just needs to work for any reason. A redemption arc in a character is not like meringue is essential in a macaron. It’s more like chocolate on bread. It can be very nice if it suits well, but please don’t put any chocolate on a salad sandwich please.

For Sebas, I would say that a redemption arc would be the chocolate on a salad sandwich. As discussed above, Sebas is VERY OLD. If he were to be “redeemed” because of 4 years, it’d be like redeeming a lifetime sinner in one hour of repentance. Imagine redeeming Hitler after he saved one puppy or said “I’m really sorry”. Yeah, no.

Besides, this then also begs the question: “does Sebastian need to be redeemed in the first place?” As discussed extensively in this post, most of Sebas’ “evils” are done under someone else’s bidding. And otherwise, because he is not human the way he is “evil” is only because he doesn’t care about human lives; much in the same way most humans don’t care about insects. “AAH a mosquito that might make me itch for a bit! SLAP IT DED!!!” Or if we step on ants while we walk, “oh well, too bad”. That’s Sebas with humans. Do most humans consider humans who eat meat or slap insects “evil that need redemption”? No.

So for Sebas’ or demon standards, he is probably not even that bad. He just wants his food and payment for his hard work.

I hope this had been interesting!

What is Evil in Kuroshitsuji? Philosophy

If humans are insects, then what to Sebas are “humans”?

O!Ciel being a game-changing meal?

PTSD Sebas I

PTSD Sebas II

#Sebastian Michaelis #Character analysis #Character development #Character arc #Undertaker #PTSD #Evil #Redemption

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godzillerd · 3 years ago

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Resident Evil 8 AU Pt 2: Parenthood Boogaloo??

Former Post Here

To summarize: Ethan takes deal. Miranda goes boom. Village goes boom. Chris is like this is serious. Heisenberg is like no baby for me pls. Ethan is like yeah no absolutely no baby for him pls. Chris is like sorry but baby for him. Didn’t even get a baby shower. Fucking brutal. Hate this place.

RIP pls forgive this obnoxiously long post that will never become a cohesive fic.

Why am I like this.

My life is a sea of regrets.

Seriously though forgive how all over the place this is - it is literally me vomiting thoughts for sport.

Immediately after leaving the village (what was left of it) Heisenberg headed west with Rose.

As expected, it took a matter of hours for the Duke to show up bearing gifts. Not much, mind you, but enough.

He even allowed Heisenberg to start running a tab, despite quibbling that it was a bad business practice.

For the first year, they were completely off the grid with zero contact with the rest of the world, usually living in ramshackle hunting cabins in the forests of whatever country they happened to be in at the time. Hungary, Austria, Slovenia, and eventually Switzerland.

Not requiring food or water himself, caring for Rose was relatively easy with some help from Duke. Heisenberg became an old hand at building fires out of nothing.

The whole baby thing did not come naturally to him. In fact, it took over six months for Heisenberg to have any kind of clue as to why the potato might be screaming this time.

He came very close to just killing it and fending for himself, but after seeing what Rose did to Miranda... it was enough to make anyone hesitant.

Around eight months in, Duke showed up with a new present: A cell phone. And a secure number. And a delicate observation that Ethan Winters might actually kill Heisenberg if he didn’t call soon.

Calls with Ethan were an infrequent thing. Ethan passed along pertinent information, but being under heavy monitoring, he didn’t have a lot of private time.

Heisenberg had less of an excuse, and just genuinely didn’t like Ethan.

Despite being told about it specifically, Heisenberg missed Rose’s first and second birthdays. She didn’t seem to mind. Ethan did.

Around then, it became obvious that living in the woods, completely cut off from humanity, wasn’t going to work out well for a growing child.

Did you know electromagnetic energy can really fuck up a bank machine?

Heisenberg (well, Duke) found a reasonable, small cottage on the outskirts of a village in the south of France. He put together a decent little business selling metalwork crafts that were simple (for him) to build, but could sell for high profit. Horses were a bit of a specialty.

Became the local backwoods crazy rural uncle who can fix anything using anything.

Ethan managed to pull enough strings to buy himself a four hour window while in France for unrelated business to visit Rose for the first time just before she turned three.

They agreed to meet in a town about an hour south as Ethan had ‘security concerns’.

ie. He and Chris both doubted Heisenberg’s ability to blend into a crowd.

To prove a point because he’s a petty bitch, Heisenberg walked Rose past Ethan five times while Ethan was waiting around for them. Ethan only noticed them when Heisenberg said his name.

Shaving, showering, a haircut, and new clothes can do a lot for a man.

Rose did not recognize Ethan and was extremely reluctant to speak to him at all. Eventually, she was coaxed into introducing herself as “Rosalie-Elise”. For reasons beyond Heisenberg’s comprehension, this seemed to have a profound emotional effect on Ethan.

Aside from occasional visits from Ethan (usually every year or two) it was mostly Heisenberg and Rose against the world.

Duke did roll through, though less frequently than when they were actively fleeing the village. He was incredibly fond of Rose, after all.

Until Rose turned three, Heisenberg largely saw her as a nuisance - something he was obligated to keep alive for his own sake.

When she was three, and shortly after they settled in the French House, Rose began picking up on Heisenberg’s mannerisms. Speaking like him, sitting like him, trying to mimic everything he did on a smaller scale...

Overnight she went from a nuisance to the apple of his goddamn eye.

Heisenberg rarely called Rose by her name unless it was serious. More often than not, she’s ‘Kid’ or ‘Blondie’

By the time she started school, Rose could dismantle, repair, and reassemble most standard engines (with a bit of help). She was also shaping up to be a mean little welder.

She also picked up a bad habit of swearing (fortunately, only in English)

Rose was raised speaking French almost exclusively, and her English was heavily accented. Heisenberg learned it with great difficulty, but became fluent by speaking only French for years.

Despite being happier by himself, cut off from other people, Heisenberg deliberately put in the effort to appear as ‘normal’ as possible.

He never claimed to be Rose’s father - to her or to anyone else. Instead, he called himself her crazy uncle and left the gossip-mongers to come up with a story about her parents.

Ethan was mockingly referred to as ‘Brother’ every time he called or visited, though.

When Rose was six, Heisenberg gave her a watered-down version of what happened in the village.

Watered down for him, at least.

Rose had nightmares for six months.

In the midst of that fun time, Ethan gave them a warning that the BSAA was starting to suspect something, so they up and disappeared in one night.

This pattern continued for years, destroying any chance of Rose having a ‘normal’ childhood.

Despite that, she developed a startlingly good mindset about things. Influenced by Heisenberg, Rose grew up with a tendency towards independence and isolation, with a hell of a lot of self-confidence and pride to boot. She never particularly enjoyed being around other children, even when she had the opportunity. She preferred staying close to Heisenberg whether it was necessary or not.

Being an obnoxiously touch-motivated brat, Rose spent most of her childhood hanging off his neck, or flopped over his shoulders, or literally hugging him while he was juggling hot metal. Heisenberg gave up caring when she was about four and by the time she was five he didn’t really notice it at all. He often sprawled on the couch just so the kid could nap on him and catch up on sleep.

After learning the truth about the village, Rose never did sleep particularly well at night - especially not alone in her room. Most nights, Heisenberg would sit next to her bed until she fell asleep. Sometimes even all night.

Again, likely influenced by Heisenberg, Rose grew to dislike Ethan as time wore on. Despite her solid relationship with Heisenberg, most of their arguments were about Rose seeing Ethan.

Heisenberg understood that their safety relied on Ethan being on good terms with both of them. Rose “didn’t give a fuck”

They reached a compromise eventually that Ethan was only ever promised one hour with Rose. If she wanted to leave after that, it was her choice. Similarly, Heisenberg let her set the boundaries about hugs and calling Ethan her father.

Needless to say, Ethan stopped getting hugs by the time Rose was ten, and he was never called her dad.

On the other side of things, Rose adored the Duke just as much as he adored her. Whenever Duke was in their neck of the woods, he made a special point to track them down in order to give Rose extravagant gifts.

Puberty was a hell of a time.

A hell of a time

Rose manifested a massive amount of power in the span of six months when she was thirteen. Around the same time she discovered her love of girls, teenage rebellion, and sticking it to the man.

During one rip-roaring fight when she was fourteen, Rose sent Heisenberg through not one, nor two, nor even three walls. She sent him through five.

Somehow, that incident was enough to curb the rising tide of teenage hormones and got them both back on track.

Heisenberg always struggled with knowing how much or how little to tell Rose about their predicament. On one hand, Ethan hated the idea and thought it would destroy her entire childhood. On the other hand, Heisenberg disliked the idea of lying to the kid.

Eventually, circumstances were such that there was no choice but to tell Rose everything in order to stay safe. By the time she was twelve, she had a pretty good idea about everything that had happened in the past.

Mostly because Ethan assumed he wouldn’t do it, Heisenberg also told her all about himself.

Surprisingly (or maybe not so surprisingly, after so many years) it didn’t change much. She tried to use it as ammunition during a few teenage tantrums, but when she realized it didn’t phase him, it was never really brought up again.

#Is this chronological #What is chronological #RE8 #RE8 AU #Resident Evil 8 #Resident Evil 8 AU #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil Village AU #re8 heisenberg #Re8 Alternate Ending #re8 fanfiction #Re8 Rose #karl heisenberg #Rosemary Winters #re8 headcanons #re8 the duke #re8 ethan winters #Ethan Winters

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