#i know the way ive written this is unhinged its the only way i can actually express any of this

[jennyfromthebes]

no okay so in Jenny From Thebes, the song Only One Way references Distant Stations off All Hail West Texas, which is a song about a person missing someone who was in a way a mentor figure to them and someone they loved in some way who symbolised safety, and we know that people who have needed help are the most likely to then later offer help to others; thus I believe that rather than Distant Stations being someone else talking about Jenny, it's Jenny talking about someone who was that for her, before she was the person we know and love in JfT. and in Cleaning Crew, Jenny references Portland as a place that's significant to her/that she has some tie to, maybe as a place that she used to live and/or where someone who's important to her lives? the album Transcendental Youth is also directly tied both to Portland and to Jenny, an album about people who "madly, stupidly, blessedly, won't stop surviving", an album that's very dark and depressing but bookended by songs about how you have to stay alive. the album opener, Amy aka Spent Gladiator 1, has the line "people might laugh at your tattoos/when they do, get new ones in completely garish hues" which can be seen as a parallel to Fresh Tattoo, and "make up magic spells/we wear them like protective shells" which can be seen as a parallel to Murder at the 18th Street Garage. I don't actually think that either of those (or really any of this) means anything but they're a fun connection. circling back to Portland, Jenny knows someone there, yeah? I think that the person she knows in Portland is the person who helped her when she needed it and that person is Amy. no wait why are you walking away I have more to say about this

[faggot-greg-house]

house is autistic i will accept no criticism

i have so many thoughts about house and autism. this might be the most unhinged post on my tumblr yet but here we go so house had the illusion of normalcy forced on him from a young age. i dont think thats like, full canon, but house talks about how his father abused him on more than one occassion and talked about how he was never satisfied or happy with house no matter what. so i truly dont think its a far reach to say that he would not have tolerated a "weird child." the thing that i think, though, is that all of his actions are a response to the fact that he's not particularly great at masking. he's afraid if he lets people close to him he won't be able to hide the fact that he's "weird" (aka bad). he intentionally pushes people away with his weird creepy comments and being an asshole and that's both him masking (if he's aggressively mean all the time no one will bother to look further) and a way of coping with the fact that he cant mask. the more he pushes people away the less likely it is that they'll see that he cares about things and that he's not "normal" like he's always been told. i also think that as the show went on, he got less and less concerned about masking. he constantly stims, he hyperfocuses and burns out, he panics about change, he treats his fellows a lot more like family. once he got to a point in his life where his "weirdness" is not something he can be ruined for (he's tenured and he has people who will fight for him) he found himself a lot more able to be aggressively autistic, even if he struggles with it due to trauma.

a huge Autism Moment in the show for me is when foreman quits and house fires chase. house has been afraid his whole life of showing who he actually is, as mentioned. his fellows, though, are his People, they knew all of his shit and they never ran awayy from it. they didnt question who he was and what he knew, only his methods, and they were willing to fight back against him (something he's shown he loves). but then foreman quits because he "doesnt want to be like house" and this is house's worst nightmare. this is exactly why he had normalcy beaten into him, because being weird only makes it that people will run away once they know you. he dared to let people see a bit of who he actually is and how he thinks and acts and foreman essentially said "i cant stand to be like you." on top of that fear, his team became Different. he doesnt know if chase or cameron thought the same things as foreman, if they were also judging him or hating him for being autistic. it sent him into fucking panic mode because how is he supposed to trust them when he doesnt know if they agree with foreman!!!!! and even if he could, the team is Different and its for a reason he cant control and he cant just go back to normal. his method of interviewing his new fellows also shows this - how is he supposed to be able to tell if someone will be okay with who he is and if they'll work well together based off a short intervew where he's almost certainly masking the whole time???? anyway. to end this absolutely unhinged post ive put together an inconclusive list of autistic traits and actions from house, and i want to say that so much of this is him being written off as an antisocial eccentric genius and, while he is an ass that cant be debated, it clearly runs deeper than that!!!!

he doesnt understand how ppl feel (he repeatedly talks about how small talk is like a guessing game for him and he doesnt know what to say)

he doesnt like to be touched (for a lot of the show people just do Not touch him, wilson excluded)

he stims constantly and he needs Sensations

he's blunt, rude, somewhat monotone, etc

he has a hard time making friends

he has a hard time saying what he feels (he'd rather joke or be mean than analyse his emotions)

he has a routine that he Sticks To (even thgh its not exactly the same because of patients etc, he goes to work late, he talks to the same people, he sits in his same office. he's shown coming to work sick at one point and he doesnt rly go on vacation. plus when cuddy took his bloodstained carpet it was such a fundamental change to his life that he couldnt deal)

he notices Everything (yes ik this is a sherlock holmes thing but consider sherlock holmes - also autistic)

he has a method and train of thought that works for him and he is unwilling to break from it (he's shown at least once stopping the fellows from writing on his whiteboard, and after he loses the og three he continues trying to hold ddx's because its how he Thinks)

[the-s1lly-corner]

Creepypastas comforting the reader

except some of them arent particularly good at it + as per usual jeff ben and toby are written as platonic everyone else can be seen as either or writing a silly little thing before i tackle in on requests, falling into the same vibe as the "hugging/kissing creepypasta characters" post from last week since i do enjoy rating these lads on thing ehehehe obligatory "these style of posts go over my personal character limit but since this is writing for the admin he bends the rules a bit" anyways uhuh totally dont give me ideas for these eheheh winks

SLENDERMAN:

not much of a talker in general, and i think that remains true in scenario where you're upset/crying. but he does make it clear that hes here for you... just... in a general sense. you know? refuses to leave you alone unless you directly ask him that you need space; more so watches out of concern rather than his usual curiosity. i think he would make you a warm drink and let you vent to him. more of a logical approach than an emotional one; better at giving solutions rather than giving comfort.. though i like to think that his tentacles will pull you close if you want to lean into him, will let you cry into his shoulder with no judgement. 6/10 low score simply because sometimes one needs comfort in the moment instead of solutions, you know?

SPLENDORMAN:

i think hes the opposite of slenderman. hes all emotions first, logic later. if he already knows you comfortable with it, i think he would come in and scoop you up in a hug.. hell he might even cry with you, or do the equivalent of it (admin is still on the fence of whether or not he has eyes or not! torn between them being actual eyes or markings) will make you your favorite snacks and drinks, all the while letting you cry and vent to him. gets mad on your behalf if someone had done you wrong, does not make your feelings feel small or invalidated. if he could he would confront the person who treated you unfairly.... and in fact he might, who would ever believe the person that they came face to face with a ten foot tall monster? though... this can lead to him being a little quick to make choices that might have big impacts... 7/10 love this man need to write more for him and develop my hcs

EYELESS JACK:

you know now that i think about it, given how much i write for EJ, i swear ive done a similar prompt at some point. regardless of it i did and if my hcs are the same, im going to go ahead and drop my hcs. i think hes very similar to slenderman in terms that hes more of a solutions > emotion person.. though i do think hes more likely to join you in any shit talking if someone did you dirty... do i think he would target that person next when hes going to go 'hunting'? no... unless the person did something truly awful and unforgivable, then he would definitely consider it.. probably wont go through with a harvest, though.. but thats it whole other thing. more of a talker than slenderman, so at least he has that going for him. lets you sleep in his bed if youre venting to him in his cabin 7/10 one point higher than slenderman simply because he talks more n stuff

LAUGHING JACK:

im gonna be so real i think he can go either way if hes going to be good at comforting you. on one hand hes too silly and might not take it too seriously; or he might try to make you laugh.. which COULD work but other times makes it look like he doesnt care about your feelings. on the other hand i think he can give some solid adivce, but thats only based on the fact that i love it when unhinged hyper characters suddenly drop the most valuable info. shrugs. i mean if you need a distraction, i think lj is your man to go to ! he was literally made to entertain so i dont think its going to be too hard for him to take your mind elsewhere. i think he would offer to cook you something but i also think hed probably be banned from the kitchen because he cant cook for shit. has probably set water on fire somehow level shit. so instead you guys just sit together talking... mostly its him leading the conversation, though. doesnt leave you be until you at least give him a smile... 6.5/10 only because i dont know how to rate him here

MASKY/TIM:

oh not at all emotional. well no thats a lie but hes not very emotive. thats the more correct word. look if we're talking about masky, hes probably going to be really bad at comforting you unless your means to be comforted involves being watched... though i do think he would fall into the act of service hole.. does all the chores and such for you so you dont have to worry yourself about cleaning a pan thats been in the sink for two days now. tries his hand at cooking, but i dont think masky is the best cook.. TIM on the other hand.. but we'll get into that in a minute. probably ends in you guys ordering something but hey its the thought that counts. if someone made you upset you notice over the course of the next few weeks that person starts outright avoiding you and overall seems anxious. weird. probably unrelated! 7/10 only because im badly overworked irl and the idea of someone taking charge sounds like a dream

tim i think would be similar, but hes more expressive for you... will cook for you but if your favorite food happens to be really specific or something else, hes probably going to run out and get it. torn on whether or not he would tell you before he goes, or if he sticks to keeping it a surprise.. i think he would tell you just so it doesnt feel like hes abandoning you when youre down..! not much to be said here other than him being supportive 8/10 i would KILL for some white cheddar popcorn rn

HOODIE/BRIAN:

i think he would put you to bed. actually i think both of them would but to keep things clear im still going to divide this like masky/tims. i think hoodie is going to keep you in bed, even if youre not particularly tired. dont bother trying to fight him on it, hes only allowing you to get up for the bathroom. let him take care of things! very similar to masky, picks up on a lot of the chores. i think he can cook, though, definitely better than masky but i dont think hes like. top tier. likes making you little snacks, or food thats generally deemed as comforting (mac and cheese, cornbread, ect). doesnt talk (sign) much but will occasionally sign to you asking how you're feeling 7.5/10 love this man, so mad kid me used to sleep on hoodie

very similar, but an even better cook than hoodie so be prepared to eat good. communicates with you more than hoodie and makes small talk while cooking. i think he would keep the chat lighthearted and on a different topic rather than tackling your feelings, unless you express that you want to vent then hes all ears! not because he doesnt care more so because he doesnt want to seem prying or nosey and wants to give you the choice yourself. sometimes makes jokes about stuff in order to try to get you to smile. feels victorious when he succeeds 8/10 mad i slept on him too

TICCI TOBY:

i think he might actually be TOO strong and in your face when asking you what happened. only one who outwardly offers to krill someone if someone were to make you upset. but thats just because i think toby can occasionally get protective of you. i mean youre one of his best friends (only friends) and here you are upset! if you dont want him to do anything hes going to try to contain himself. he strikes me at the type to retreat to the roof and look up at the stars... i think he would offer to do that with you; but if youre too scared to climb then he can lay out a blanket for you so you guys can go sit on the grass! surprisingly a very good listener, though very emotionally driven and reacts a lot when you tell him the details of your day.. but its nice, i think, reassures you that hes is in fact listening.. 7/10 gives off brother vibes

JEFF THE KILLER:

ohhoho so this is an interesting one, because i like the idea of jeff still acting like an older brother every now and then even after everything. but he also has that attitude of "i dont care about anyone around me and im better than everyone".. more of an actions than words guy. he wont really say it.. you know? one of those "if he actually didnt care then he would bother giving you the time of day, much less break into your house at night with his arms full of your favorite snacks and drinks". good luck trying to vent to him though, i think its rare that he lets anyone vent to him since he also holds the "ew yucky feelings" thing ben has.. though once in a blue moon i think he would let you and give some decent advice... though every now and then that advice involves punching someone 6/10 is fair i think...

BEN DROWNED:

kind of reminds me of how younger siblings will give their older siblings know they like. kind of like the "my brother saw me crying and asked me what my favorite color is... he gave me things in that color" post/image going around that i cannot for the life of me find but i know it exists because it made me cry. i think its like that. except since hes in your phone he already knows what your interests are.. probably pulls up what your comforts and likes are in an attempt to cheer you up. i dont think he would bluntly speak with you about your feelings, but thats just because he thinks heart to hearts are yucky and cringe/lh. uses videos, art, stuff like that. ehehe silly phone ghost 7/10 because as simple as it is, if someone tossed my cc at me i would feel at least a little better for a moment and its the action itself you know?

PUPPETEER:

i thin hes similar to jeff in regard that he tries to play things off but deep down he does care, and that tends to show more through his actions... though i personally think if you were to actually cry then he might lose it a bit, because who DARE? i gotta admit, im still trying to figure out how i want to write pup and what hcs to give him, but i think.. this is an okay take.. might 'confront' anyone who made you upset, with or without your approval which might make some issues between the two of you.. more ready to let you vent to him though, might slip out some mean insults and words about whatever's got you upset regardless of its a person, chance, or object 7/10

[prof-peach]

Bit ooc but I have a question. How you do go about planing out your PLA comic? Like how do you actually turn your ideas/ storyline into comic form? Is it chapter to chapter or do you have the whole idea already planned out? Trying to find my own way in comic making so I’m just wondering if you could give any advice. Feel free to ignore if you don’t feel comfortable answering

So, at first this was al i could think to send.

because its incredibly accurate to my process.

Jokes aside, a lot of how i work is back and forth chaos, fighting with ideas until im happy with them. I will start with a list (usually not written down because im unhinged and keep a ot of it in my brain) and organise it in a way that makes sense to the situation, in this case workign with a game with an established plot...not that its a very strong one.

with a set of ideas, and a game to work around i will ramble and rant to a few choice people who i bounce well off, and also stare into space for hours on end building the ideas. This process can be days, it can be years. For context, i have some notes from 2019 about things i wanted to include that are still relevant. I have been scheming how to break and rebuild this OC for ages. Theres no correct time frame, so long as you simply do the work.

Once i have a fairly loose plan, i start to solidify the benning and the end. What is required to make a character compelling, what makes them believable, what makes them human in a way that we recognise. this isnt always a positive thing, people like to call characters who do bad things problematic, but its human nature to make mistakes and be damaged or difficult, the process of the story is not always rainbows and sunshine. For me, this hits even harder, as im trying to tell a story from the perspective of someone fundamentally broken, so showing those breaks and cracks has to be done wisely.

This is the point where i make notes about things that need to change from the start to the end. And ill say one thing, this story in particular, I have not solidly planned the middle. I am allowing space for me to come up with new ideas at points. Being locked into a dead set of ideas can be quite limiting, and as creators we consume and process things constantly to generate new stories. Id be a fool to make a plan and stick to it. everything i do is vague guidelines.

However, I know exactly how the story ends in Hisui, and where it goes to from there. And i think me personally knowing the end goal makes it easier to plot steps towards that, and some of those steps are anything but progressive.

If nothing else, the end was the only thing i saw clearly, and it has only become more complex and loaded and emotional as the rest of this has fallen into place. If you can see the goal, you can work out how to get there with time.

Regarding the chapters, i tend to draft plan up like 3-4 of them at a time, and then go in order to sketch out one after the other, so i have plenty of time to change things while i adjust. its constantly a process of seeing what you make, seeing issues, and scrapping whole parts just to redraw something better or new, unique even. I dont think a single page ive posted has resembled the very VERY first draft thumbnail ive made, and thats just how i do. Every panel, how big they are, the angle you hand the viewer, the way you light things, the expressions, this all dictates SO SO much.

Taking time over it is kind of the job, and let me stress, this is normally a job done by a team, especially the highly popular comics. one inks, one colours, one shades, one handles text, one edits, theres so many people behind it, so dont be bothered by the pace at which things are made if youre working alone like i am. One person means longer production times, if you can, spread the workload out, but its not required. Its why i always say it doesnt matter how long it takes to make, so long as youre still making.

I think its also worth noting, comics are consumed quickly, the bakcgournds and small details can be lost in the ace of the storytelling, pick and choosing your battles is wise, save your time on panels where you want the reader to shift along quicker, keep that pace high, and add in more detail and depth to panels you want to champion or get the viewers to hang around on more. its ok to let go of a "perfect" image in favour of getting content out, if youre being driven nuts by it. Again, time be damned, be happy with it. And if you can let go of petty details, id suggest doing it when possible, so long as it doesnt effect the storytelling.

I mean what else can i even say. This work is a passion project, I love it, more than i can even put into words, and i think you kind of have to, to make comics without monetary motivation. sure you can get lucky and find ways to make it big, but for most of us, its the love of the story. So maybe try not to be your biggest hater, its easy to slip into the behaviour, so try be gentle on yourself and the process. I should take that advice myself haha! but i really do mean it. This is HARD work, so be kind to yourself over it.

anyway, with a rough idea, a bunch of sketches, and time, they get inked and fussed over, i make a billion changes to layout and story, and eventually posting can happen but not after fighting with the monster that is creating. Idk what else i can say. This is not work for the feint of heart, but anyone can learn to do it.

Good luck, comic artists can always use it!

[mikarchive2]

do you have any ciel/sebastian fics you'd recommend? it's difficult to wade through ao3

of course! ive been in these trenches for a while so ive done my share of AO3 wading. hope you enjoy my findings! 💗🫡

the classic(s):

stain the water clear! a must-read. #1 sbcl fic forever its like scripture to me. portrays their dynamic exactly how ive always envisioned it, in a way thats both devastating and so dark but also strangely tender and loving and intimate. (+ i recommend reading other works by objectlesson as well, i feel like they Get It like no one else does.)

the other classic kuro scholars on twitter always talk about it the flowers of evil series - personally i have a complicated relationship with this one cause i just dont enjoy sebastians characterization in it but it is extremely well-written and has some really iconic moments (the fucking mind games here... unparalleled) so if i were you id definitely check it out! feels very canon-compliant too.

(both of these can be somewhat triggering at times so heed the tags and make sure to take care of yourself!)

pwp:

bloodletting was the first sbcl fic i found that i actually enjoyed and it has such a special place in my heart, its almost a classic to me too... its the only sub sebastian fic i know of which is so sad because thats literally canon. to me. lets all shut up about the daddy dom bullshit and get on this immediately. 💯

i love pretty much all fics by martialartist861s #good old yaoi. (im especially fond of the one where they fuck while sebastian is in his old man from book of murder form and they get off at the emphasized age difference, i think thats crazy and i dont think ive seen it before. respect both for unhinged originality and the eroticism. + the sex pollen one)

taunt & fold. omegaverse moment! i really like the way its written.

that tutor, indulging has virginity play which is honestly such a game-changing concept in the context of this ship...

to have and to cherish is the only non-explicit one on this list and its just about them making out but i think its cute!

(edit). forgot to mention la destruction! hot and well-written and worth checking out.

[whatifwekilledgodandwebothgirls]

Little updates on my journey finishing alcibiades 1

Alcibiades cannonically cannot cook

Alcibiades is portrayed as an abseloute dumass to the point that i question is at least some of it is him giving some aditude back to socrates . Most of the stuff he says i can see being ironic little " yes socrates" ment to piss him off because there is no way any person in the world espesialky alcibiades that woukd be ok being that humiliated. Alternatively, he is just so in love he puts up with it

Alcibiades brother mentioned!!!

Pericles mentioned!!! My baby girl !!! Also confirmation that this was written before pericles died , which again i could have learned by checking the dates but waiting till he was mentioned proved to be more fun

No aspasia mentions :(

Socrates says βαβαι a lot , which is very very cute and a lot of my teachers say it constantly when they are frustrated. Βαβαι supremacy. Its such a fun thing to say. Its like i think the ancient greek version of damn

I had made a post previously pointing out alcibiades constant use of εγωγε and now that ive read a bit more philosophy i can say that its not an alcibiades thing its a Plato thing. Its crazy because no one ive asked about this has made it into a big deal but Plato CONSTANTLY makes people use εγωγε instead of εγω when they mean the same thing but εγωγε is a bit cuntier . I asked my teacher why this happens or if there is any reason its used so heavily in philosophy and she told me no, there is not , its just the authors choice , but idk still

Socrates saying he is at a dead end ( angry , frustrated, whatever ) with alcibiades, and with his love for alcibiades just casually.

Socrates and alcibiades agreeing that someones heritage matters when comparing nations , saying that the spartans their enemies are worthy opponents because all their kinds are decendants of Hercules and of zeus . Now this is intresting because of two things first because i didnt know these myths existed , thats so fun every tribe had a difrent little demigod they all came from ? Also because socrates then goes on to say that no man that has ever sat on the throne of sparta has had anything other than hercules blood in him . I wonder if alcibiades though of that , many many years later , when he said that the only reason he had sex with and impregnated the queen of sparta was so his sons could sit on the throne . Abseloutely unhinged " i am greater than god himself " behaviour we see on alcibiades all the time , i wouldnt put it past him to be motivated to seduce their queen and have all that backlass for it just so he could fuck uo the years and years of tradition and prove himself more cunning that , and dethrone litteral descendants of gods

Socrates being a spartan apologist . Good for him

Socrates practically saying " no one cares what you do on your free time . I mean unless they are in love with you. Then they care a lot " he is destroying that twink

Alcibiades saying that socrates is wiser than anyone and socrates imidietly replying that they should learn together and examine the facts together . Despite being a bitch he tried to include Alcibiades and never brags about his intelligence.

[kristiemewisstan]

The Tortured Poets Department Unhinged First Listen Review:

Fortnight-

NEEDS MORE POSTY, we love a “I wanna kill her”, this one MIGHT BE about Matty Healy lol “I touched you for only a fortnight”

The Tortured Poets Department-

“WHO USES TYPEWRITERS ANYWAY” YOU BITCH ITS YOU LOL, Charlie Puth name drop 🤨 oh god so many name drops, THIS BRIDGE, not the wedding ring…

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys-

THERE WAS A LITANY OF REASONS WHY WE SHOULDVE PLAYED FOR KEEPS THIS TIME my jaw literally dropped the entire last verse

Down Bad-

“Everything comes up teenage petulance” this one is cringy but in a way I love, Taylor Is Very Much A Down Bad Girlie

So Long, London-

this song is tachycardic I PROMISE I MADE THIS JOKE BEFORE “STOPPED CPR”, two graves one gun I SWORE THAT YOU LOVED ME BUT WHERE WAS THE CLUES damn she’s really sad to lose London huh

But Daddy I Love Him-

this would have a cool music video “she’s was chaos he was revelry” this is if red and the 1975 had a child that’s the vibe

Fresh Out the Slammer-

Okay so this is the “I just realized how bad this relationship truly was and thank god I’m out of it”, okay the weird slow down stuff wasn’t my favorite thing

Florida!!!-

I’m cackling, THE FLORENCE VERSE IS SO GOOD I think that this is just a Florence and the machine song it sounds so like them

Guilty as Sin?-

Okay this is the first one I’ve been like “oooooo I really like this one” “what if I roll the stone away, they’re gonna crucify me anyway” DAMN some religious imagery will always get me right in the trauma

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?-

This one has a lot of the brain scratching pauses “don’t you worry folks we took out all her teeth” oof this song is just really angry

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)-

Cowboy Like Me but they don’t end up happy, okay “good boy” made me giggle so apparently in a 12 year old boy

loml-

PIANO! WANT IVE WANTED THE WHOLE TIME “still alive, killin time at the cemetery, never quite buried” I’m getting a gun and flying to London, I swear “TALKING RINGS AND TALKING CRADLES 🤨” JOE ALWYN FOUND DEAD IN A DITCH “THE LOSS OF MY LOVE” COUNT YOUR DAYS JOSEPH 💀, this should’ve been track 5

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart-

hello production that is giving Barbie movie/80s vibes, this is the first one I’m certain was written recently like it was definitely written on tour, the peppy “cause I’m miserable!” Hurt Me but also same

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived-

THE BREATH ahhhhh PIANO! “I don’t even want you back I just want to know if rusting my sparkling summer was the goal” okay back half of the album is eating, THE PICKUP, SPEAK NOW VIBES BUT MOM IS OLDER AND MADDER

The Alchemy-

ok ok ok “I circled you on a map I haven’t come around in so long but I’m coming back so strong” fucking meant,👌 touchdown mention lmao, okay this is SO ABOUT TRAVIS 🥹🥰

Clara Bow-

Best production on the album in the first 10 seconds, BEAUTY IS THE BEAST THAT ROSE, WAIT WHAT????? “You look like Taylor Swift” yeah queen because you are lol, It’s so people can make the audio of her singing all the album names lmao

First Overall Listen- 7/10

I was getting nervous in the front half but the back half more than made up for it

The vibe was just off at the start and honestly that’s probably a me thing and will get better with further listens

The lyrics were amazing as always

Production was okay, some of the songs were perfect and some had me going 🤨

Charlie Puth

Top 3 in no particular order (apparently I like songs that hurt me):

Guilty as Sin?

loml

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

[trickstarbrave]

What's a shezzarine? I haven't gone quite that far deep in the lore.

As for Clavicus and his enemies, I think his biggest ones are Peryite and especially Arkay.

Peryite, because he is the Prince of Natural Order and The Taskmaster, so I associate him with working hard to achieve your goals. Clavicus's status of the Wishmaster goes against that completely.

For Arkay, he's the Divine of Natural Cycles and is against undead and use of souls. Arkay has three consecrations, one of which is "bestowed upon the dying, to prevent their souls from being used without consent" and another one is"bestowed upon the deceased, that their corporeal forms may not be raised to unlawful servitude."

Now tell me, which Prince has strong ties to a very powerful necromancer, has his own kind of vampirism, and *has actually raised undead himself*?

That's right, Clavicus Vile! He made a deal with the sload necromancer N'Gasta, who harvested souls for him. Unlike Mannimarco and Molag, N'Gasta never betrayed Clavicus and I feel like that counts for something.

Clavicus has an order of vampires that can blend into mortal society (that's the strain that appears in Oblivion).

And unlike Molag so far as I know, he's actually committed necromancy himself in ESO by turning an Argonian village to be undead to save them from the Khatan Flu.

I'm totally normal about Clavicus

its okay ur allowed to be Totally Normal about tes lore in my ask box. i actually havent thought too much about clavicus vile but he is always pretty interesting to me

as for shezzarines a shezzarine is the name given to a mortal incarnation of the god shor/shezzar/lorkhan. pelial was prob a shezzarine, as was wulfharth, but im fully on the shezzarine nerevar train. dude gets betrayed by the ppl closest to him and his heart ripped out stabbed and his body torn apart.

not to mention nerevar is described in a hell of a lot of ways similar to any accounts of lorkhan (son of boethia, strongest of the padomaics, only one who can defeat wulfharth) and also one account literally has him fighting and killing shor/lorkhan which is. certainly smth. ive written up a whole unhinged theory post about shezzarine nerevar and how i think the three good daedra wanted him to mantle lorkhan uhhh right here

[rarepairnation]

for the ao3 wrapped!! 1, 6, 28! (also you are not alone in believing you can finish one more thing. i am also doing that :P)

happy (newly i guess, for u!) new year anna!!! waving at u NOT from the google doc! we did it! we finished the one more thing! [ao3 wrapped]

1. How many words have you written this year?

nearly 14k (13,924 to be exact) published and at least 6-7k more of wips! tragically my least prolific year since uhhhhhhhh a long time. 2017? but thats ok it was a hard year all that matters is that i survived<3 im proud of myself for what i did bc im in that kinda moment where im relearning how to write and reengaging the creative part of my brain. and next year will be better!! i have a lot of plans and a wip list as long as a cvs receipt<33

6. Favorite title you used

this one is actually your body drowning in gravity! i havent reread it in a long long while (aside: wow i was a totally different person when i wrote that (i published it jan 3)) bc my brain has temporarily been caught by other things. but it was an idea that i'd been turning over in my head for over a year at the time when i wrote it and i think i saw the richard siken poem that the title is from (it's "the dislocated room" btw) on my dash in the middle of the writing process and it was like. Perfect. like i choose all my titles very carefully but this one really knocks it out of the park. when the fic is literally about tanner thinking mallory is the one that's fallen from the top of the cns building at the end of spectre and not knowing until the body hits the ground.

28. Favorite work you wrote this year?

OUGHHH this is hard. Ough. ok i DO think it's just so long as this thing's loaded. im chronically an "i wrote this for me but you can read it if you want" guy bc i have rarepair disease. if i want to read it i have to be the one to write it. but this fic was really an exercise in like. getting weird with it. remembering that u cannot judge ur creation by any possible bad faith interpretation of it. letting myself write the kind of wildly unhinged horny possessive devotion that eats the inside of my brain but ive never been able to put on the page bc of the Fear of like ohhh that would be sooo bad in real life. dude theyre. not real. idk im not good at that sort of thing the panopticon inside my mind is sometimes kind of crazy. but like yeah actually they do think the power dynamic is hot. yeah nick made jasper fake betraying him obviously here is this situation where jasper comes back to nick after his faked death and both of them are pretending not to know the betrayal wasn't real. its just roleplay 2 them. sorry to quote a line in this already extremely long answer but like "The only thing he wants to keep is right here at his side and hasn’t that been the point of all of this, the knife to his throat and the blood in his kiss and the slow simmer of barely leashed desire. Jasper has come to him like this, the traitor slinking his guilty way home, to show Nick the lengths to which he would go for him. To which he has always gone for him, giving up everything to play Nick’s triple agent, just what the Director ordered." is literally the thesis statement of the whole thing. Anyway

also its the kind of fic where every line is trying to be The Line which...is a quirk of my writing style that comes out every now and then that im usually (for good reason tbh) always trying to cut back on. but this...Needed It. sometimes the prose DOES need to be purple. and i had fun. it was really fun dude lol i had a great time

[youabandonedthem]

i was scrolling through your blog and saw you read redpen's "unhinged" on ao3, which i read before and thought was super good. ive been looking for more jnoir fics. do you have any recommendations?

Yessir unfortunately i hate most fanfiction i read about him and i have read most of the jack/slick stories that are available on the archive (i scoured through both tags extensively) but even though few else could be as excellent as "unhinged" there are many with more good qualities than others. i will try to categorise the ones i dont hate for you with my views. This ranges from proper bants to 'On a good day this wouldnt make me feel that suicidal if this were the only piece of literature available to read against all the dogshit on the archive while waiting 7 hours at the ER'

(A Joker's Not Even A Real Playing Card Anyway) <- this is a masterpiece. I dont even know anything about batman or anything but it doesnt matter if you do or not because the comedic value in this story is insane and it was clearly written by a genius. It deals with the midnight crew carrying their cartoon physics/lifestyles to the batman world where everyone takes them and their actions seriously. This is possibly even up there with unhinged or even higher . It is absolute scenes, bloody brill, and puar radgee. If you have to pick one thing to read read this one and ignore everything else

The Ruby Tie-tack -> this is good this is about Droog dying and haunting snowman. They are right about the way droog would die. it would be without the dignity he wants

The Old Ball and Chain -> this is kinda cute i guess it passes the time. it is about problem sleuth getting stuck with slick

lucky_spike -> This person is good at what she does in general. if you enjoy “stabdads” plus problem sleuth there is that for you. And i think in most of the stories they are humanised but honestly i just imagine that theyre carapacians just do wahtever you want. I tihnk she was part of a 2011 era humanised-stabdads-centric cabal of artists/writers so if youre into these stories you can easily find her affliates. They have more...interesting spins on the crew

Hello, My Lovely this is honestly ok and it is well written. It has spades slick locked in a trunk but its not about him. it is about pickle inspector and boxcars. Actually i was drunk when i read it

This really isn't funny. <- i like this this is about bec noir resurrecting as a dog who slick picks up in an alley and makes his pet. Bloody Brill.

there may be more that i don't remember and also i read a lot of fanfictions a long time ago and my judgment could have been impaired by the stupidity of youth. i went through the archive a little tonight and tried to find any good ones at all but i taste blood in my mouth now. No more

the disease had sharpened my senses...

[iinryer]

Hiiiii for the wip game I would love to hear about #4 [redacted] fic

hi hello!! i think i’ve posted a few tiny snippets of this one but I haven’t actually ever pitched the whole thing because fhfhdh it’s an unhinged concept and I’ve been working on it for a Long time so. bear with me. the [redacted] fic is a nickname for a nickname of my ‘failed threesome fic’, in which ana and eddie invite buck to have a threesome but break up before it can happen, leaving the two of them to Deal With The Knowledge They’ve Acquired. it started as a joke concept and now it’s one of the most emotionally devastating things ive ever written hffbdhhdfh

its set in a nebulous 5a where buck and taylor never started dating because i simply think they were way more fun as sort of deranged besties. here’s a bit from the first scene:

—

“Plus,” Taylor adds, the teasing edge back in her voice, “he’s obviously into you,”

Buck groans, “C’mon man, I asked you to stop saying that,”

“Yeah,” Taylor scoffs, leaning back into her original spot, “but that was because you said I had no proof. How is this not direct evidence that he’s into you on some level. He is literally asking you to have sex with him. Which means not only does he want it, but he’s also thought about it and—,”

“Okay! Okay!” Buck tries to interrupt, but it’s muffled by his hands covering his face.

“—clearly liked the idea,” she finishes anyway, grinning broadly.

Buck feels his face burning. His entire body, actually.

It can’t be that simple.

“Look, Buck,” he hears her sigh, “I can tease you about it all day long, this is like, the best ammo you’ve ever given me—,” he can’t help but snort at that, “but I can’t make the decision for you, y‘know? ‘Your body, your choice’ or whatever,”

“Or whatever,” Buck intones with a huff of a laugh, dropping his hands back into his lap, “not sure it’s my body I’d have to be worried about,”

“God, you’re sappy,” Taylor whines, not unkindly, reaching over to poke him in the shoulder a few times, “fine, whatever, if your heart can handle it, then,”

That makes Buck pitch forward with a startled laugh, “Okay, not what I meant,” he shoves at her lightly before reaching to pick his wine glass back up, “I was going to say my head, you jerk,”

“I need you to know that I’m a very good friend and I will not be taking that opportunity to make a joke about giving head, even though you served it to me on a silver platter,” she says dramatically, “and will fully understand that you meant your thoughts and feelings,”

“Wow, so kind,”

“Thanks,” she grins, flipping a lock of hair over her shoulder, “I try,”

—

[wip game: ask me about my wips]

[nataliaphantomhivesblog]

In the end of it all, Monaca Towa was still a child.

To start this off, this isn't my usual Black Butler posts but ive been meaning to talk about Danganronpa for a hot minute, so please bear with me! Second, this is solely my opinion and before anyone wants to attack me please read thoroughly first. Thank you:)

(Spoiler warning for Danganronpa: Ultra Despair Girls and Danganronpa 3)

Also, before we dive in I'm going to list some trigger warnings:

Physcological abuse

Physical abuse

Manipulation

P*dophillia

Suicide attempt

Violence (?)

Childhood trauma

Please take care and read at your own risk<3

Hello there Danganronpa fandom! Today I will be talking about Monaca Towa (as stated in the title) and how people often minimize her trauma and sometimes forget the fact that shes still a child who got heavily manipulated by Junko too.

Monaca is seemingly very amiable and caring, because of her charming personality, all of the Warriors of Hope love her and try their best to keep her happy and go along with what she wants. However, it's slowly revealed that she is actually manipulative and cunning behind her friendly facade.

Monoca is a character that is cruel, manipulative, and extremly unhinged. Many of her actions cannot be excused or justified, but you can understand where she's coming from.

Monaca's Backstory:

She was born an unwanted child by both her father and her mother. Monaca's mother was supposed to take care of her but instead abandoned the child soon after her birth. Because of all her actions, Monaca saw her mother as a completely selfish and pathetic person. Monaca's father thought of giving her to an orphanage but instead took her into his family.

However, Monaca was always unwanted and everyone else felt uncomfortable around her. Every time Monaca smiled or joked, the others looked at her coldly, as if she didn't deserve to laugh. Every time she spoke, the others turned silent. His older-half brother thought of her as an alien, not part of the family.

She was also physically abused to the point that she pretended to be seriously wounded for them to stop as a result.

Monaca also attended Hope's Peak Elementary School and was part of the "trouble-makers class" along with Nagisa, Masaru, Jataro, and Kotoko.

Along with her fellow abused classmates, she planned a group suicide; however, Monaca never had any plans to commit suicide in the first place and was planning to let the others die as a prank.

The group suicide was stopped by Junko, who took the kids in and manipulated them by treating them with kindness and love.

Monaca then helped Junko mass produce Monokumas for the Tragedy by using her position as a representative of the Towa Group.

She lied to her father and the other adults in order to produce the Monokumas, telling them that she wanted to create futuristic robots that could be domestic helpers and emergency aid workers.

Due to her separation from the family and her genius, her family decided to give her leg room to do what she wanted as long as she brought in profits to the company, and didn't delve too deeply into her plans.

Things to keep in mind about Monoca's backstory:

She was emotionally and physically abused from a very young age.

She started to pretend to be paraplegic because she was finally treated with some kindness and she could have more control over people.

She convinced Nagisa, Jataro, Kotoko and Masaru to commit suicide.

Out of all the Warriros of Hope, Junko took the most intrest in Monoca due to her position, meaning that she was the one who got used and manipulated the most.

How Monoca's mindset works:

The moment she got physically abused to the point that she had to fake her injuries to make her family feel bad was the moment she learned that through sympathy from others comes power. Due to her families neglection and abuse, she started to quickly pick up on things in which benefited her yet hurt others.

She started to use manipulative tactics on her family to gain control over them. She then started implicating these tactics with the Warriors of Hope.

When Junko got into the picture, everything changed for the worst. Junko was the only person in Monaca's life who showed her affection. Even though deep down Monaca knew Junko only cared for her as a means to use her robotics genius for the Tragedy, Monaca didn't care, and happily helped out Junko with her plans if it meant being loved and appreciated in return. At the heart of it, despite all her horrific acts, that's a very child-like thing to do, right? So when Junko dies, Monaca's entire reason for living basically disappears.

AI Junko via Kurokuma may have planted the idea of a successor in her head, but in Monaca's mind it's a way to get her big sis back, and very specifically chooses to mold Komaru into becoming Junko's successor. That's for a big reason, Monaca doesn't want to become Junko, I'd say she actually just wanted her big sister back who would love and appreciate her again, and hence tried to make someone else take on that role initially. Once again, that's the mindset of a child.

Monaca's relationship with the Warriors of Hope:

The Warriors of Hope are a group of children who are extremely resentful and hateful of adults, regardless of whether or not they were involved in their rough paths. 

We all know that the Warriros of Hope are extememly tramutized kids. Masaru had alcoholic parents who physically abused him, Jataro was physcologically abused to the point he bealived he was so ugly that if anyone saw his "repulsive" face they would die, Kotoko was r*ped multiple times by disgusting p*dophilic men (not to mention, Monaca's brother was attracted to her), and last but not least we have Nagisa who had pressuring parents who wanted to raise him as the child prodigy and expirimented on him constantly.

Monaca used the Warriros of Hope's trauma against them, manipulating them to the point were they had to do her bidding completly.

As much as I hate to say it, Monaca truly saw them as pawns. Although there are some instances where she openly declares her care for the Warriors of Hope, it's likely she does that as a form of emotional manipulation.

If anything, she probably did see them as equal in the beginning but then when she started to gain control over her own family, she started to do the same with the Warriors of Hope as a way to protect herself from getting hurt, then again this is my baseless assumption.

Her dynamic with Nagito:

Monaca was amused by Nagito's strange behavior and contradicting beliefs and appeared to be somewhat annoyed with him at the times. However, the two appeared to at least seemingly respect each other in some way, as they treated each other somewhat formally as allies.

Her dynamic with Nagito is one of the most intresting ones. Obviously I think that her being rasied by Nagito was potentially a dangerous thing, considering Nagito's goal was for Monaca to become Enoshima's successor. Monaca seemed to agree with this goal, but Nagito's constant rambling about hope and despair made Monaca bored and feel embarrassed about the whole thing.

She claims he made her an adult in a way, as she grew up in the mental sense and became more cynical and apathetic, not really caring about anything.

In the end, Monaca found Nagito creepy and annoying, but she also appeared to get closer to him during their time together, while originally calling him just "Mister Servant" in UDG, she later refers to him as "Big Bro" in Danganronpa 3. I do think their dynamic was sort of soft and I would've loved to have seen more of it. Honestly the concept of Nagito being a soft brother to Monaca warms my heart, and the wasted potential will forever anger me.

(If any Danganronpa fanfic writer or any writer in general is reading this post: if u could be so kind and do a PLATONIC Nagito and Monaca prompt and tag me in it, I would love you forever!!)

My opinion on Monaca:

I think that Monaca was a very well-written character who deserved more than what she got in the end of Danganronpa 3. She was abused, mistreated and belittled by her family. If anything, I see her as a completely misguided little girl. If she actually had a positive authoritative influence in her life, she wouldn't have turned astray.

A lot of people disregard Monaca's trauma and forget that at the end of the day, Monaca was a child who the moment she was born, the people who were supposed to love her were unwelcoming.

Don't get me wrong though, there is no way in hell I will ever justify or condone the things Monaca has done. If anything, I just think that she alongside the rest of the Warriors of Hope should've been properly taken care of.

Also, if you dislike/hate Monaca thats 100% valid! She did a lot of inexcusable things and its alright to hate on her. I personally love her character but I know she is not everyones cup of tea.

If you read all the way, I'm actually surprised! Thank you and I hope you enjoyed<333

[calangkoh]

All this discussion of CoS had me rewatching it and wow, something is... off about Alphonse? Like the memories, etc Did Ed's resurrection of his brother truly succeed or... is Al just an advanced homunculus? It's making me think of the buildup to Alphonse wondering if he really is Ed's brother

[this became one of my more rambly answers. i apologize for the essay. im also writing this with a LOT of background noise so it might be a little all over the place]

you are not alone in this feeling because al is DEFINITELY “off” in CoS. i dont KNOW if its intentional the way he feels sorta....unhinged? but he does to me, and im relieved to know others feel the same. there’s actually a theory about al not being al, which was originally by @fizzybubblespop [x], and i expanded on it in a different direction here [x] (this was written years ago so it might be a little cringe in quality lol). both are takes on the idea that al was never really al to begin with. sad. i dont believe them, tbh. i dont think canon has the intention to ever imply al isnt really al. but its still an intriguing theory that makes you question life and existence. the fun stuff. 

but yeah, i think ed really did manage to do the first ever successful human transmutation, because in 03 (unlike mangahood) its implied to be somewhat possible. that it can be done, except no one can do it right due to problems with the alchemist themselves. i interpret that ed created al’s body (because while they do question “maybe als body is still in the gate” it doesnt make sense for him not to have aged, since wrath was able to age somehow--idek how that works either tbh), and was able to pull al’s soul from the gate like al was able to do with ed, because they had JUST died. 

so i think a successful human transmutation, a true resurrection where the person is definitely the same soul and not a copy, requires: knowledge of how to create a body with alchemy, a proper transaction (which im not sure how that works either, because alchemists dont choose what they sacrifice, and when ed DOES choose, the gate still takes something different. and the gate in 03 isnt operated by a conscious entity like Truth--either way, al’s transaction was the philosophers stone, which included his own soul. ed’s was his arm and leg, undoing al’s sacrifice, and also him ending up in london. because a life doesnt equal a life. ed had to give up something more.), and the soul has to be “within reach,” as in, it has to have just died and be waiting at the gate. sidenote that in al’s case, he had ed’s fresh body right there with him (ew thats a creepy sentence)

and since most alchemists lose the person, and then spend tons of time developing the theory before doing the transmutation, it has never been done. 

just to expand, and the following is just me brainstorming...i think ed’s sacrifice makes sense and did work because of his experiences up to that point. yknow how in mangahood, you could say “wow but couldnt ed have sacrificed his gate way earlier?” but it doesnt really work because the lessons he learned to arrive at the conclusion “hey i could sacrifice my alchemy” were necessary to the sacrifice? like, the sacrifice wouldnt have worked or made sense if he just...thought of it with no work. if he just one day thought “hey i have an idea ill sacrifice my gate of truth” it wouldn’t have worked. at least imo. because the point of his sacrifice was the journey he had to finally look Truth in the eye and say “ive been through everything ive been through and i know i dont need it.” 

similarly, ed’s sacrifice at the end of 03 only works because of his experiences. all the adventure and excitement as well as the pain and hardships had meaning. the lessons and the bonding with al and the way everything shaped who he is. it had meaning to him. maybe by ending up on the other side of the gate, he’s essentially sacrificing the meaning to his suffering, and since he has been through so much, he’s sacrificing the meaning of most of his life, and the meaning of your life is what would be worth more than the life itself (because a life doesnt equal a life). so, if ed had made the sacrifice earlier, to just give up his whole mind, body, and soul, it wouldnt have worked. the gate wouldve just taken him and he woulda gotten nothing from it. 

both series have the optimistic nihilism approach (though 03 leans more into addressing the nihilism, while fmab kinda contradicts it to lean into the optimism), where yes we’re all just tiny specks and are insignificant in the long run and cant fight the flow of life, but that just gives us more power to give ourselves meaning. 03 ed gave up that power by ending up on the other side of the gate, and he can understand the war veteran more than ever who says not all losses and gains are material or visible. they cant be adequately quantified or explained by logic or rules. we assign the meaning. and maybe the gate takes that into account, and it knew ed assigned the most meaning to his shared experiences (cough shared trauma cough) with al. hence, hohenheims speech explaining what ed had to have given up to be worth more than his life to bring al back. 

[gontagokuhara]

ok ok. you gave us your opinions on v3’s amount of batshit bonkers, but what are your feeling on sdr2, the batshittiest bonkers game by far

anon you are absolutely correct everyone really did lose it during sdr2

sexy byakuya: i will concede that sexy byakuya did not have real reason to go bonker, given who they were impersonating and their situation in general. however, i am disappointed that they were not given the chance to go truly feral at some of the other characters.

teruteru: he was unhinged right from the get go, but not in a good way. but truly is propensity for going bonkers culminated in his FOOLISH plan to kill komaeda instead of, You Know, fucking telling everyone that nagito threatened to kill somebody? a true jester, indeed

mahiru: she had potential, but none of it was ever acted on. being hiyoko’s, who i’ll get to in a minute, girlfriend was pretty wack, but i think she should have lost it more directly. batshit lesbian rights

peko: she did NOT shy away from going completely bonkers and i absolutely respect that. the entirety of trial 2 was absolutely insane, all thanks to her. that said, some of her more nuts thought processes were an outcome of bad writing (i do NOT like that ‘im a tool’ shit) so i cant enjoy it to its fullest potential. also trial 2 sort of sucked in general. sorry queen

ibuki: FERAL ICON!!!!! ibuki is bonkers in the early 2000s rawr lawl xd sort of way, and i ADORE it. she is straight up unhinged girl representation at its BEST. shes near perfect in that regard

hiyoko: she is kokichi 1.0; the prototype of the small batshit mean troublemaker, if you will. she excels at exuding feral energy because im pretty sure she is feral. that amount of sugar going into that tiny a body can only lead to chaos, and i respect that

mikan: no, mikan did not go bonkers. i will explain this in a moment.

her: i consider pre-trial 3 mikan and trial 3 mikan two different characters, the latter of whom ive unaffectionately dubbed ‘her’. ‘her’ is not mikan; she is the outcome of incompetent writing parading itself as mikan. ‘her’ went bonkers, as anyone can see by looking at how the latter half of trial 3 plays out. but its not in a good, fun, or compelling way, nor is it in a way that makes sense or adds anything to the narrative. it sucks. one day i’ll write a dissertation on why 2-3 is ass.

nekomaru: nekomaru is bonkers from the get go, but contrasted to ‘her’, its in a fun, lighthearted way! nekomaru’s character is lacking in care in a lot of places (thanks for NOTHING, writing team) and his nuttiness is no different.

gundham: LOOK AT HIM. LOOK AT A SINGLE LINE GUNDHAM SAYS THE WHOLE GAME. HE IS ONE OF THE MOST BATSHIT, OFF THE WALL CHARACTERS IN THE ENTIRE SERIES, AND I ADORE HIM FOR IT! FERAL DEMON RIGHTS!

komaeda: o. oh my god. the king himself. there is no one who rivals his bonkers nature. he is truly the pinnacle of bananas dr characters. that said, though, he’s actually written pretty fucking terribly from a standpoint of mental health and real decency at ALL, so a lot of his more out there tendencies are played not for lighthearted laughs, but for cruelty and to play into (homophobic, ableist) stereotypes. in an ideal world, nagito is the perfect unhinged character. but he is not and it is because of homophobia. come see my tedtalk on this next week

chiaki: she wasnt given a personality let alone a chance to showcase any nutty tendencies. my heart breaks thinking about the potential that was wasted with her.

akane: again, a character not treated with respect at all throughout the game. when youre laughing, youre laughing *at* her, not with her. not great feral representation, esp when you take into account some of the stereotypes shes given...not great.

fuyuhiko: chapter 3 fuyuhiko was pretty off the shits, if the whole [laughs uncomfortably] thing is any hint. his deep routed disgust with things like underage drinking and premarital sex is even moreso bonkers, somehow, so i approve. could have been better, though

kazuichi: hes bonkers but not in a fun way (at least, not most of the time). potential was there, but he fell flat. sad

sonia: FERAL WOMAN LEGEND. she has these MOMENTS of being absolutely hysterical with just how off the wall she can be, but its fairly rare, so not great:( sonia should have drop kicked someone at least once

hajime: being arguably the biggest dick of all the protags (AND I SAY THIS AFFECTIONATELY, I ADORE HAJIME) he had some real potential, however he didnt get to shine in terms of being bananas as much as i would have liked. super saiyan hajime chapter 6 was pretty uh. it was sure something though

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Omg PLZ tell me we’re getting some HRH soon

anonymous asked: More HRH please!! ♡

anonymous asked: More HRH pleaseeee 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

anonymous asked: Any hope for a new chapter of HRH very soon?

Previously:

Part I: The Crown Equerry | Part II: An Accidental Queen | Part III: Just Claire | Part IV: Foal | Part V: A Deal | Part VI: Vibrations | Part VII: Magnolias | Part VIII: Schoolmates | Part IX: A Queen’s Speech | Part X: Rare | Part XI: Watched

Her Royal Highness (H.R.H.)Part XII: A Day’s Anticipation

Though she was present for the first time in recent memory, it was like Claire was absent from her own life.

In the natural lulls of conversations, she found herself touching her mouth as though she were awed by its mere existence.

(Those fingers that had learned the precise messiness of the curls at Fraser’s nape. That mouth that had been so thoroughly kissed.)

In the quiet moments between meetings and briefings, she recalled in vivid, blushing detail the dreams that had woken her.

(The soundest sleep she had in months –– a floating into dreams, landing in technicolor moments never lived and perhaps never to be.  Jarring herself awake, panting and drenched with sweat in her bed, right hand cupping right breast and left scrabbling for a disappointingly absent head of curls between her thighs.  Arching against her sheets, a slick aching that quickly receded into an unfulfilled promise as she reached for the lamp on her bedside table.)

Her attention became a meandering thing.  

Someone would clear a throat, tap the table, or inquire “ma’am?” as her eyes focused on something and nothing at once. (The needlepoint cushion that had been perched on her sitting room chair since before her uncle became king. A single syllable in a familiar word written in all capital letters on the corner of an envelope. The tip of a branch squeaking a melody out against a pane of glass.)

No one asked questions of her.

They did not dare, but they thought knew the source of her distraction, the cause of the far-off look in her eyes.

A broken engagement.  A disastrous state dinner.  Frank Randall.  A fixture in her life no more.

She contented herself in their erroneous speculations. She did not squander her time on correcting the course of their wandering minds or quelling the inevitable gossip mongering that danced in quiet corners, oddly-placed cupboards, and markedly private staff quarters.  

Fraser was a secret known only to her, the thrill of his mere existence (his willingness to give himself over to her) fluttering in the chambers of her heart.  It dwelled there, untold, beneath stratum of skin and bone, growing and taking shape.  Her heart was the full moon, white and blemished grey with the shapes of a face, beating lazily in her chest.

“Just a few more, ma’am,” an attendant said apologetically, sliding a final small stack of letters for her signature across the table.

She offered again and again the same apologetic smile, allowing these nameless people their mad speculations.

The Queen gone unhinged.

She focused on time.

The hands on the clock seemed to toddle along with no sense of urgency.  The conversation between the courses of her evening meal droned on and on (about this and that, nothing in particular that required her input, just polites nod of acknowledgment or good humored laughs).  While she had always found the formality of meals with company tedious, it was even more so that evening.  Her mind was elsewhere –– vested in her evening plan.  

And when she was finished eating and had bid her guests a good evening, she retreated to her suite of rooms where she could shut out their chatter and their faraway looks.

An hour until she would see him again.

Giddy on nothing more than thought and memory, she exhaled her relief against the door.  She ran through a not insubstantial sampling of the night’s possibilities.  Only the press of her forehead into the wood, her fingers curling around the ornate door knob kept her from floating off the face of the earth.  After a moment, mind still rapidly cataloguing some of what they may get up to that evening (from ordinary to downright lascivious), she peeled herself free from the door and made her way to her dressing room.

Selecting something to wear was a non-issue.  

Black sweater.  Black riding pants and boots.  A scarf.

Something told her that she could toddle down the slope to the stables in a gunny sack dress and be just perfectly well received by Fraser.

She stripped the day’s boring dress off (grey, tweed, relatively shapeless without a belt) and allowed it pool at her feet. She shed her slip.  Down to her underthings, she studied herself in the floor-length mirror. The plain nude briefs with their high waist, scalloped elastic, and little satin bow that was frozen, skewed sideways someway above her navel were hardly the thing of a lad’s magazine.  The nondescript flesh-colored brassiere lifted her breasts, separated them into satin-contained globes with unnaturally rounded peaks would never have been material for a clandestine photograph sent by a woman to her man on the frontlines.  No soldier would hold that photograph, creased and worn at the edges, in his back pocket  

Despite this, turning sideways with her head tilted, she realized that Fraser made her feel beautiful.  Her eyes did not stray from her reflection as she undid the clasp of her bra and let it down her arms easily.  She was not what one would call self conscious.  As a general matter, she had few complaints about her figure.  She rather liked the soft flare from her waist down to her hips.  She could appreciate the teardrop weight of her naked breasts, the turned up silhouette of her puffy pink nipples, and the way those same nipples tightened into hard ridges when she was aroused.

No.  She was alright.  Perhaps even better than.

And Fraser looked at her like no other man had before. Oh Christ did his eyes make themselves at home on her.

She had been the subject of lust.  (Boys at school, with their fumbling hands and panting, humid mouths. Their unpracticed hips and their adolescent need for harder, faster, more mechanical thrusting.  Frank, with his matter-of-fact appraisals and clinical mutterings about the warmth of her, the firm way he drove into her that was never unpleasant, but lacked spark.)

She had been the subject of inspection.  (Papers critiquing this hairstyle, that dress, or the jewels chosen for her on a given occasion.  An entire country’s citizenry taking the prepackaged parts of their Queen in at public functions, consuming her and going back to their lives when the pageant of her entrance and exit was over.)

She had been the subject of curiosities.  (Teachers whispering behind the girls’ dormitories over shared cigarettes. Their discussions about the gangly legs and frizzy hair of the fourth in line to the throne, their breath and smoke mingling into an acrid cloud that hung on their winter coats and the white, half-moon collars that peeked out of tailored dresses.  Parents of her classmates making inquiries that wound their way back to her –– wanting to know what Her Royal Highness Claire Elizabeth’s holiday plans were, whether the family ever invited outsiders to the palace for weekend breaks, if the King was a gad about town with a lady in each postal code or if he was a homosexual.)

But Fraser had made her feel something different.

Not lusted after, inspected, or unusual.

She was more than a tiara or a dress.  

She was entitled to honor separate from her title and ancestry.

Under his gaze, she felt transcendent, strong.  Infinitely complex, but somehow simple.  Cherished.

“My good luck,” he had muttered as they parted the night before. Tapping touches along her collarbones left traces on her more intimate than the kiss that he had given her (that they had shared).  She had studied the firm, curved bone of his thumb beneath her fingers as she guided his hand lower to rest between her breasts.  Concluding, he whispered, “No. Actually, it’s more than good luck.”

She scrubbed in the shower.  Shaved and trimmed.  In front of the mirror she combed her hair with her fingers, dabbed perfume on her pulse points. She inspected her teeth at close range in the mirror for bits of spinach salad, breathed into her cupped hand and sniffed.  She brushed.  Flossed.  She swished with a minty rinse, shivering as it flowed between the tight spaces of her teeth and over her tongue.  Looked again.  Sighed, contented for the moment.

Walking to the stables, her eyes memorized the ground whipping below her feet and her teeth worried her lower lip.

The anticipation was almost over.

She had been in these stables only a few times.  They were different than the ones back in London.  Smaller, narrower, a little claustrophobic, harshly lit.  

Fraser was at the end of the line, leaning on his elbows against the metal bars that gated the last stall.  He was whispering something low and slow, head tilted to the side.

Pausing, Claire eased the door closed behind her just to listen.

Gaelic.  

She knew that much.  

It was beautiful.  

Lyrical almost, with a rhythm that sounded almost supernatural to her ears.  

Though she could not catch and comprehend even a few of the words that he spoke, she could feel the history in each and the storied cadence of his speech.  The rise.  The fall.  The places where he drew breath and smiled at whatever charge was at home in that last stall.  

It was as though the language was a rite passed down (gifted) to him as an ancestral right.

She caught her breath when he tilted his head to look at her and say, “Ye ken that ye can come to me, Sassenach.”

Her heart skipped a beat and she strode across the stables, the anticipation of the day paling in comparison to the sudden need to be next to him.  She chanced a glance into each of the stalls as she passed.  Fraser had a lean (but exquisite) equine crew in Scotland.  Just enough for riding about the grounds and a little showmanship with a carriage (if necessary). Claire drew up beside him, feeling a flush rise in her chest. The way he looked at her –– like he was drawing her into an embrace, telepathically drawing all of her secrets, accepting her notwithstanding the ugliness of some of them.  

The way he kept his eyes open (sparkling, searching) as he leaned in to kiss her sent her reeling.

It was as though nothing was more elemental than the two of them kissing.  

That after their first (stolen the night before, prolonged and made into a memory), it had become an innate part of them to meet with their lips.

She was falling –– like the moment after catching her toe, when she knew she would fall, but could not stop the forward momentum. The pout of his lips meeting hers was an unexpected catch.  His fingers along the periphery, swiping back an errant curl from her cheek, the soft landing.

Natural.  

This was natural.

By all accounts it was a chaste kiss, but it ignited her, burned her insides.

And when Fraser pulled back, eyes still open and lips turned in the most self-satisfied little smirk she had ever seen, she realized that she was feeling something for the first time.

Wanting.

“Were ye planning to say ‘hello’ to me?” Fraser asked after a careful assessment of her face.  She did not know when his hand had found her side, but his fingers opened along the curve of her waist and drew her closer.  The flush returned to her cheeks as she angled herself up towards him. He was intent in his perusal of her, that bloody smirk turning into a snack.

Other than an unconscious, small squeak she had no time to react when he pecked her on the lips again. She situated the toe of her boots between his, noting in an absent kind of way the small scuff on the left toe of his.  Quietly, she whispered, “Hello.”

“Hello,” he echoed, voice even lower.  He absolutely towered over her.  “Ye ken that I’ve been thinkin’ of that kiss for the last twenty-four hours?”

“Oh?”

“Aye, the delicious wee sounds that ye make, the taste of ye.  Though, ye were no’ so minty last night.”

“Nor were you.  Mouthwash.  I’d venture a guess that you also partook this evening.”  She raised a quizzical eyebrow as she touched his jawline.  There was a small amount of stubble there –– perhaps he hadn’t shaved since the day before.  

(She realized that she wanted to know how long it took him to grow in the first, pencil-shaded sketch of a beard.  The type of stubble that he had right now.  A day?  An afternoon?  She wondered what his face would feel like on a Sunday morning if he came home from work on a Friday and did not shave over the weekend.  She wondered what it would feel like to wake next to him –– under him, his knee urging her legs apart –– in some narrow postage stamp of a post-war home on the outskirts of London on that Sunday morning.  To be teased by him, kissed with abandon, left aching by him.  To forget to lament the coming of a Monday because Sunday was a day reserved for one another, not for worrying.)

“I had to wash away the taste of the sausage roll that I had for lunch,” he admitted, the normalcy of the conversation striking her.

“Presumptuous, then, are you, Fraser?”

“Oh, aye, and in good company, it appears.”  His thumb ran along her lower lip before he dropped his hands and turned back to the stall.  He was close enough to her that she could feel the warmth of him, the tang of a day’s hard work.  Draping his arms over the stall and bringing one boot up onto a rung of the gate, he nodded towards the horse.  “This is Thistle.”

Mirroring his pose, Claire really looked at the dappled grey mare there for the first time since arriving in the stables. Brimstone would own her heart forever, but Thistle became a quick, close second.  

“She’s new,” Fraser explained. “Just arrived this morning.”

“She’s a pretty girl,” Claire whispered, stepping onto the lowest rung of the gate into the stall.  She felt a steadying hand on her waist, the expanse of a firm forearm against her lower back, the warmth radiating from his flank.  

“Lass.”

“Pardon?” Claire asked, a little taken aback.

“She’s a lass, not a girl.  Ye’re in Scotland now.”  The smirk was back and she wanted to pull him down to the floor of the bloody stables and learn what his throat tasted like, the dip between his collarbones, the swollen curve of his pecs towards one another.  She was shaken from the fantasy when Fraser reached into his pocket, produced some soft, slightly browned apple slices.  “Saved these for ye to have wi’ her.”

Claire accepted them, taking another step up so she was all the way on the gate.  Holding them forward, she whispered softly.  Fraser chuckled as she drew in a sharp breath when Thistle ambled to the gate and gave a great snort.  The soft, gentle brush of Thistle’s soft, shapeless lips on her hand made her sigh.

“She’s new.  She’s no’ goin’ to be fond of a ride, but a walk, maybe?”

Wiping her spit-slicked hands on her riding pants, Claire nodded, bumping her hip against Fraser’s.  She immediately felt foolish for the gesture. Like a child.  But when he bumped hers back, she could not help the smile that came to her lips.  Confirming with a nod, Claire said, “A walk.”

[poetrycommentguy-blog]

A LAMENT FOR DIANNE

                      A simple Child,              

             That lightly draws its breath,              

            And feels its life in every limb,               

            What should it know of death? 

(William Wordsworth, “Now We Are Severn”, 1798)

 _____________________________________________________________

  I. The Fury

 Thunder ripping, lightning slashing

                 through the blackened skies;

Bursting terror, stark and flashing

                 in my mirrored eyes.

Forest shadows’ fingers tracing

                 tears of rancid rain;

September twenty-fourth, that night,

                 then began the pain.

So senseless not to know back then

                 the causes of this fury,

and its passing, soon forgotten,

                 early, much too early.

  II. Nature’s Deception

 ‘Twas then I turned and saw that smiling,

              Master Sun was rising,

Healing fears and drying tears,

              far too soon surprising

drooping, cowering flower-heads

              with His most vital touch.

He closed their minds, their haunted thoughts,

              their memories and such;

he warmed our hearths and heavy hearts

          ��   with his bold fine-fueled fires,

and gave some hope and purpose, then,

              to our best dreamt desires.

 By nightfall I’d forgotten all

              the “whys” and all the “wrongs”,

and fell asleep while Mother Moon

              sang soft and soothing songs

of Heavenly hosts, of angels blessed,

              of sweet eternal peace,

just out of touch for curious boys

              beyond my little reach;

for I was just a boy of four,

              in nineteen forty-nine,

what did I know of “Spirit-things”,          

              just beyond our door?

  III. Troubled Dreams

 I fell asleep; I dreamt a dream:

              sad sounds in forest deep,

troubled skies above my head

              and shaking at my feet;

Angels throwing lightning-bolts

              on all the living souls,

especially aimed at little boys

              who dared to dig big holes

into the solid ground beneath

              the flowers and the dirt,

when digging was the only way

              to ease the rage and hurt.

 I dreamt of It, as real as now:

              the Weeping Willow Tree,

its many roots, slow-moving, bound

              tight tentacles ‘round me,

dragged me downward, earth to stone,

              gravel, through grey clay,

 into the Void, where little boys

               were not allowed to play.

When I awoke with eyes aglaze

              at morning’s sunny start,

the dark clouds still hung out within

              my sobbing, stuttering heart.

   IV. Further Questions

 I then asked of my Father, Mother,

             and my brother’s form

about the other haunted night,

             the terrifying storm:

 “If a small tree falls in the forest deep

and there’s no one there to hear her weep...;

if the angry storm is so fierce around,

how, then, do we know there’s a crying sound?”

 My Mother, she looked skyward, up,

            my Father, groundward, down;

my older brother fixed me with

             his silent, furrowed frown:

“If you’re worried about that vicious storm

             the night before,” they said,

“and if you think, as children do,

             that part of you is dead,

know this: of fifty thousand trees

             in yonder forest deep,

one small and weak green tree did fall,

             fell quietly asleep.”

 “But where,” I chanced, “where did she go?”

         “To compost,” Father led.

“And where,” I cried, “...and where is that?”

         “In Heaven,” Mother said.

“It’s only one, just one small tree,”

         brother’s voice assured;

“Just one,” it echoed through my heart,

             I’d heard before that word,

for “one” to me, “just one”, to me

             meant loneliness and fears;

I turned away to hide from them

             my burning, angry tears.

  V. September 24th, 1992: Answers

 I’ve held this story, up ‘til now,

             my age is forty-sEven

I don’t believe in “compost” Dad,

           nor Mom, believe in “Heaven���;

yet even now, at times, when I’m

           in anguish or in pain,

I think back on that fearful night,

           the night of blackened rain.

I know there is one-half of me

           that long ago was dead;

I choke, I cry, I rage, then put

            the other half to bed.

        If a small tree falls       

        in the forest deep,    

     to my way of thinking,         

             everyone           

              should           

               weep.

 Commentary:

         A LAMENT FOR DIANNE was written on October 6th, 1992 in memory of my twin sister, Dianne Gordon Bosomworth, who died on September 24th, 1949 at 4 years of age. References to The Storm, The Weeping Willow Tree, Clay-bank and The Void can be found in my short story, THE PASSING (2017) or in my childhood memoir (unpublished), ME, MYSELF & YOU: Musing Memoirs (1992).

            In December of 1991 I had a very painful accident. The pain centred in my back but referred to my arms and legs. I was barely able to walk. Three discs herniated and twisted and I was psychiatrically diagnosed with PTSD. This freak accident conjured up memories of my twin sister, who suffered from severe cerebral palsy, affecting all of her functions, her ability to talk and control over her limbs. I wondered if I too, was going to be severely crippled or even die. The referred pain gradually went away, but the back pain remained as “chronic pain”. Having tapped into my own vulnerability and the feelings of fear, hurt, anger and rage, this event led to me writing in earnest. I was almost obsessed with figuring out what a small boy of four would feel like when his perceptions about his sister’s “disappearance” were inconsistent and confusing. This was one of many poems/stories that I wrote about this lonely and frightening situation.

           "If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?" is a philosophical question that relate to aspects of both observation and perception first suggested by George Berkeley in 1710. My child poses one question (IV. stanza 2) that relates both to observation and perception. It becomes clear to me that my dream has something to do with the sudden disappearance of Dianne. My tears are tears of loneliness, anger and frustration, not yet tears of true mourning. Why had she simply disappeared?

           When my sister was alive, I thought that she talked. We had this kind of psychic bond that allowed us to communicate. When she disappeared, I suspect that the decision of my parents was to not utter the words “died” or “dead”. Instead I was told that she had “passed on”. I had heard this phrase before and had figured (as children will do) that when you “pass on”, you go to Heaven to visit and then return, refreshed; when you “pass away”, however, you go to stay. I had been told that Dianne had gone for a visit, but this was not reflected in the furtive stares I was getting from the neighbours and the relatives who suddenly appeared in our house. Where there were whispers, there were lies; I knew this by the tender age of four. Additionally, small children often know what dreams mean without much prodding or without the attendance of Sigmund Freud, although they may not have the cognitive development to understand what a “Spirit-thing” is. Furthermore, I didn’t know any “dead people”. It was not a topic for discussion in front of children in our home.

           The “burning, angry tears” I shed were not directed at my parents, although I thought that they knew the truth. These were not tears of crying for the loss of my sister; they were tears of anger (indeed rage) that she had betrayed me. She had decided on the trip to Heaven for a visit and decided to stay; she had not told me. This sense of betrayal had to be hidden from my family, where such “weak” emotions were not allowed by my Father. Slowly I pushed them to the back of my mind and body so that I simply forgot about her, except on those times when I scraped my knee and was allowed to cry (and wailed). In grade 1 my important “Elfie” doll also disappeared, carefully plotted and managed by my Mother and my teacher. I began to become unhinged.

           It was then that my friend Corey Ray Mackenson came to the rescue. He was a rather strange 12-year-old who befriended me until my thirteenth birthday and then disappeared in body and in my memory. He claimed to live in Zephyr, Alabama. My Mom believed he was my “imaginary friend”; that’s because he would never come into my house, either at “The House on the Hill” (where I was born) or at The Farm (where we moved when I was about 10-years-old). He likely saved my life. But that’s another story you might read if you have the chance to read my childhood memoirs, ME, MYSELF AND YOU: Musing Memoirs (1992) or my short story THE PASSING (2017).

           At the adult age of fourty-seven, you might think that the time for anger and tears must be over. The death of a twin is a serious business, especially when it is not dealt with immediately. Finding myself in physical, psychological and spiritual pain from my accident, I was dragged back, kicking and screaming to the old theme of loss: the loss of my former Self, the loss of my job and some of my peers, the loss of my active role in the family and community, and the loss of self-esteem. To deal with all of this, I began to write frequently and furiously – poems, essays, and prose memoirs, most completed by 1992. It helped.

            By the time I wrote this poem, of course, I knew that Dianne had died peacefully as a result of complications from pneumonia. I had mourned her “passing” through counseling and therapy. Like any old wounded warrior, I was informed that I would have flair ups whenever I was going through a period of betrayal, sadness or loss and to never hide my vulnerability to myself or others. I stumbled upon the therapeutic value of writing with this poem. It still has the power to move me to tears.

           You will meet Dianne again in many of my poems as part of this journey moves forward and the layers of my feelings around the betrayal change and shift into the sacred place that is my very family. It is like the peeling of an onion – each layer leads further into the core, which may be the3 very Truth, if I am very lucky.

DBB