#intensely manifesting that cast recording

[achinghcarts]

Corkeus & Eurydice killing it @ West End Live !

[azdoine]

Bright Christmas

Childlike wonder does not persist at standard temperature and pressure. Growing up is the process by which it evaporates, as you convince yourself that it never existed in the first place.

The first snow of winter isn’t beautiful; it’s a nuisance that blocks the driveway.

Your toys never meant anything; they were only answers to craving.

It doesn’t matter whether you’re naughty or nice; only what the world’s coffers hold for you.

Santa Claus isn’t real; there are only lies to children and games grown-ups play.

But there still exists a joy which will never thaw, grace impossibly preserved.

What has Saint Nick brought you for Christmas this year?

Pick two.

Protoclay

A lifetime supply of foundation. Each morning, you receive a random new LEGO set, still fresh in its packaging and wrapped with a little bow. Sets can be delivered which never made it to release, or were created by fans, or are no longer in production, or which never existed at all. But you’ll never receive the same set twice.

All of your LEGO pieces respond directly to the power of your imagination. Even when following an instruction guide, your creations will grow stronger as they’re assembled, so long as you care about what you’re making - bricks snapping together at the joints with unreal precision, toy models that don’t fall apart unless they’re deliberately dismantled, clever assemblies that work as intended.

Used as a channel for your own creativity, the pieces only grow stronger, permitting the construction of impossible objects. A boxy plastic triangle that cuts food and can be cleaned like a metal knife. A LEGO armchair that feels soft and gives way like stuffed leather. Futuristic industrial machinery made out of Technic parts. A magic staff that shoots mighty fireballs from its translucent red core. There are no fundamental limits to the quality and potency of what you can assemble; only what you can convincingly translate from idea to reality.

Memento

A letter to eternity, bound within a diary. Simply pressing a point into the surface of its endless pages will see it well with ink or glue or crinkle with embossing, and a stylus hangs from the end of its long bookmark. Nothing committed to this scrapbook can ever be removed, but the strange sheen of its paper grants clarity enough to avoid unforced errors.

By your status as the master of the diary, it grants you knowledge of its contents as if each word was memorized. But its greater power is the preservation of more than memory: all historical information scribed within traces a shadow of the time in which it was still true, pale moments which can be dredged forth and cast as shadows upon the changing now. Victories recorded may be synthesized and re-enacted, wizened performance sustained with the intensity of youth. Entire spaces may eventually be locked in an eternalist present or superposed with their ancient history - the only limit to this power of manifestation is your total will to defy entropy.

Even should every other part of yourself be destroyed, you may choose to linger as a timeless memory within the pages of your diary, suspended and composited in the apex of your life.

Velveteen

A boon companion - or the boon companion, rather. They may be the treasured friend you loved the most, now awakened and quickening, or something new entirely, the toy you never had. In any case, a stuffed animal, a figurine, a doll, a childhood companion brought to life in your arms. In all respects, their personality is compatible with your own, their loyalty assured without the flaws of obedience, their love for you untainted by misunderstandings.

It would be a mistake, too, to regard them as a mere animated object now that they’ve surpassed the circle of representation and become Real. Their forms and powers flow straightforwardly from their nature, simple but overwhelmingly effective in their domains; a teddy bear who commands a healing sleep and an aura of protection against evil, a doll with supernatural beauty and mastery of all things even remotely related to housekeeping.

Though your companion may be a person and take human shape to walk with you in the daylight, they still belong to a different order of life, reproducing through the exchange of love rather than biological DNA. If you and your companion ever both come to love another companion-toy as much as you love one another, then it may become Real too, no lesser than its predecessors.

Hexahedron

The root of all brainteasers. Its form shifts wildly and without warning, taking new permutations  on the order of minutes or days - or even sooner, if you should ever solve one of its iterations with time to spare. Twisty puzzles, wire puzzles, puzzle boxes, burr puzzles, puzzle locks, puzzle rings, jigsaws… almost anything tactile enough to hold might pass through your hands, shapes rising and falling in a spiral without limit.

Each time you successfully solve the Hexahedron, it will open your mind to paradoxes and arcana, revealing some quantity of information in a random domain related to the puzzle that preceded it. Lore mastered in this fashion can include procedural skill as well as declarative knowledge, and nothing you learn this way will ever harm you or be forgotten.

The harder a puzzle is and the less time you have in which to solve it, the greater the quantity and quality of useful information you can glean from it; at the highest levels of gnosis, the Hexahedron may even grant you knowledge of functional spells and rituals. There are no fundamental barriers to stop you from sharing this preternatural knowledge with the world at large, but others will struggle to understand what esoterica you effortlessly comprehend.

Abstract

The fundamental implement. This edutainment kit consists of the materials to introduce you to a profession or hobby in a fun and easy way - an Easy-Bake cooking set, a set of Nerf guns for play-fighting, fake fossils to excavate from National Geographic. But it’s not limited by concession to practicality or lies to children.

As you continue to learn, your resources will only grow, and your tools will only increase in fidelity. Equipment that once was only an imitation will become capable of handling the real thing, diversifying until you have everything you need; handbooks of toy problems will teach you more adroitly than college textbooks ever could, guiding you along a road where each step is, if not easy, then at least as clear as the first one.

Where your skill in your chosen hobby or profession surpasses normal human limits, you may use your tools to wield it with increasing applicability and at increasing scales - a painter who uses art of surpassing beauty to argue, churning pieces out at a breakneck clip, an electrician who wires entire cities, shaping strange coils to channel the flow of traffic within it. There are no fundamental limits to what you can accomplish beyond your ability to learn.

Ouroboros

The circle of completion. A basic train table, marble run, or other looping toy set with room to grow. Just as a closed circle implies an interior, so too does your toy circumscribe a place - an otherworld within to which you can open portals to and fro at will. You are the ultimate master of the Ouroboros, and none can gainsay your right to control its circulation and borders.

The interior of the Ouroboros is a macrocosmic reflection of its exterior, a series of closed spaces moving and interlinked in greater cycles. There’s already room enough inside to live there in a pinch, but as you continue to add to its exterior, its interior will grow - each train car or marble either adding a new chamber, or being consumed to increment the scale and magnificence of a chamber that already exists.

Beyond a certain threshold of grandiosity, spaces within the Ouroboros can develop increasingly supernatural qualities: a library train car that gathers cursed tomes, a bathing world that swells with healing waters. There is no fundamental barrier to exploiting these spaces for power in the outside universe, but all advantages are ultimately derived from the use of resources within, albeit renewable ones.

Mantle

The distinction between man and beast. A few tokens of clothing for the winter and the seasons to come - perhaps socks or a scarf, jeans or jacket. Just wearing it already confers benefits based on its nature as clothing, above and beyond what mere clothes make possible - bolstering your willpower with justified confidence, flattering your body so acutely as to push its physical limits, protecting you from the world like a suit of armor.

With an exertion of will, you can choose to don your gifted clothing more completely, as far removed from an ordinary person wearing clothes as a person wearing clothes is removed from the naked. A masque donned as you move through the world becomes a sword to overturn it, permitting the flowering of aesthetics into power: a biker with a chariot of fire, a streetwear super-hacker, a goth commanding the darkness.

Should you mix your outfits and regularly wear another article of clothing together with this set for a year and a day, you may allow some of this stylistic magic to rub off on it. There’s no limit to the number of enchanted articles you can collect, and if you find something new that feels truer to wear, its potency in your hands will be increased to match.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Whatever your presents, know that they are a blessing true, treasures that shall never be lost or destroyed, only well-loved and shared as you please.

But there is another gift that must be given before winter’s end, and a burden that must be accepted.

Is it yours to carry?

If you know, in your heart of hearts, that duty comes before joy.

Open the mystery box?

[xuchiya]

"stuck in this fairytale" || choi san || series || fifth part

| genre: prince! san. fluff. angst. adventure | mentions: cursing. | here's the first part

back to masterlist | chapter 6

The ancient curse weighed heavily on San’s mind, a dark cloud that had followed him since he was a child, whispered about in the kingdom’s shadowed halls and hidden corners. As a young prince, he had dismissed it—how could a curse from centuries past still hold power over him? Yet, now, as the 9th heir to the Choi dynasty, the nightmares were no longer avoidable. They came in vivid flashes, each dream more intense, more horrifying than the last.

It began as a flicker of doubt, but soon, the fiery visions wreaking havoc on his kingdom— with scorching breath, raining destruction while perched up on the spiked churches, crashing houses, and the very heart of the town square—became all too real. His ancestors, those who had once ruled over an era of prosperity, were seen in the throes of madness in his dreams, consumed by the monstrous forms they had become. The curse was clear: no heir of the Choi bloodline could escape it. The first king had brought this fate upon them when he spurned a woman. Casted away, her creatures hunted and killed. In her fury, she cursed the king and all his descendants, dooming each to suffer, destined to destroy what they were meant to protect.

San stood now at the precipice of that same fate. For years, he had dismissed the legends. But as the symptoms of the curse began to manifest—the nightmares, the strange, unexplainable urges—he could no longer afford to deny its existence.

Determined to save his people from the same fate that had befallen his ancestors, San began his journey to find the one who could break the curse: a legendary figure thought to be long dead or hidden in the endless valleys and peaks of Lone Mount. Every story told of her was different, and none could be trusted—she was as elusive as the mist that shrouded the mountains she was said to live in.

It was during this search that he found himself in the royal library, scouring through dusty scrolls and forgotten books. The history of his ancestors had been largely erased, sanitized by the scribes of the court. All traces of the curse had been carefully hidden away. But San was relentless. After days of fruitless searching, he finally approached his father, King Choi, seeking the truth.

“Father,” San’s voice echoed in the grand study, a room filled with old tapestries and towering bookshelves. “You must know something about the curse. The scribes have removed it from the records. Why?”

King Choi turned, his expression grave as he looked out over the vast lands of their kingdom. He sighs, the weight of the history were evident on his father's shoulder, the thick layer of his cloth and the crown on his head.

“Your great-grandfather,” he began, “he cast away a woman… A dragon tamer, they said.” His voice was heavy with the weight of history. “Her dragons were loyal to her, but they were seen as a threat. The dragons grew restless, and when the kingdom was invaded, your great-grandfather sought to kill them. In retaliation, she cursed our bloodline. The tamer disappeared soon after, retreating to the mountains. Some say she still lives, though no one knows for sure.”

San listened carefully, his resolve hardening. “And these mountains… Do you believe she is still there?”

The king sighed, finally turning to face his son. “I cannot say. But if you wish to lift this curse, you have my blessing to look for her. Find the truth that was buried with our ancestors.”

With a firm nod and formal bow, "I won't fail you father."

His father hums, a smile behind his growing beard, "You never did, my son."

San made his decision. He would not let the curse destroy him or his kingdom. He would find the Dragon Tamer and put an end to the curse once and for all. The journey was long and treacherous. Each mountain peak seemed more daunting than the last, their towering heights hiding secrets San could only guess at. For days, he wandered, seeking any trace of the tamer. The villagers spoke of her in hushed tones, as if even uttering her name would invoke her wrath. But their stories were inconsistent—some said she was a vengeful spirit, others claimed she was a recluse, watching over the mountains she once ruled.

San’s only lead came from an old woman he had encountered on his voyage. She had whispered to him of a forgotten book, hidden deep within the kingdom’s public library—a book that held the true history of the Choi bloodline, and perhaps a clue to finding the dragon tamer.

That was where he met you.

You stood in the dusty library, your fingers trailing over the spines of ancient books, searching for one in particular when San approached you. His eyes were focused, intense, as if driven by a force beyond him. 

“Dragon Mountain? San look at this book! … ‘Once upon a time, a king built his own empire with the help of dragons as’ … oh my gosh San, it looks like you!” When you turn around to show him the image of the said prince of the story, you burst out laughing as you see him clad in what seems to be a noble attire. 

San’s eyes widened as you turned towards him. The illustration indeed bore an uncanny resemblance—a prince in noble attire. His expression darkened, his hand instinctively brushing over the hilt of the sword at his side.

“What the hell are you wearing? And …” You look around the library, he watches you as your eyes wander, a witty smile still on your lips as you glance around to look for your other friends before returning back to him, “When did you even have the time to change? We just got here in the library 30 minutes ago.”

A frown on his gentle face. His two eyebrows meet in the middle as his lips are straight: not an ounce of delight evident. “Who are you?”

Wooyoung burst into your room without knocking, dramatically flopping onto your bed like he owned the place. He settled on his side, propping his head up with one hand, facing you. You mirrored his position, lying in the opposite direction, but your attention remained on the worn pages of Dragon Mountain in your hands. You were slowly piecing together the story, finally starting to grasp the intricate history—though you knew the plot would thicken with twists in the upcoming chapters.

"So," Wooyoung began, eyes glinting with curiosity, "We’re gonna talk about this superpower of yours… When did you first find out about it?"

You shrugged, not looking up from the book. With a casual flick of your wrist, a small flame sparked to life in your palm, the fire dancing softly above your skin. "It just kind of... happened when I first got here."

Nodding as he gently took your hand, touching it but hiss as the fire is actually harmful unlike you, who don't even feel an inch of pain.

"And it's weaker. I can only do this for the past week. I can only light candles using this." You said, pouting. Wooyoung scoffed, "Maybe because you have been lazy-ing around." Disbelieving, painting his features. You scoffed too, "More like not wanting to awake more to what it triggers this one alive."

"It just triggered when you got here? Like when you like … are we talking about the time you and San were at the town public library?"

You paused, flipping another page as you considered his question, looking at him. "No... It was before that. We— like me, you, Jongho and San— went to the library together, what—Wednesday, last week? last last week? anyways but no, it has nothing to do with San. Maybe not directly."

His eyebrows knitted together in thought. "So, it just ignites? Out of nowhere?"

You sigh, closing the book as you gave all your attention to him, "Honestly? I’m not sure. But there was this moment in the town square, a battle. That’s when I first felt it."

Wooyoung’s interest piqued, and he leaned in. "A battle? With who?"

"I don’t know... They were like ghosts. You know those Dementor things from Harry Potter? But not as terrifying. More... gross." Recalling as you faced one of them, so similar yet it still sent shivers down your spine at the looks of it. "Aight, Hermione," Wooyoung teased, but his tone quickly shifted back to serious. "But during the battle, or after?"

"During. It happened right in the middle of the chaos."

"In the town square you say?" You nodded. Wooyoung's brain struggled to process your responses at first, but then his eyes gleamed as he pieced things together. With a knowing smirk, he said, "Of course! You’ve probably inherited Brigid’s powers. I mean, it makes sense—Brigid is the goddess of fire. But that’s just a theory for now. It could be something else entirely."

You nodded, starting to connect the dots. "Brigid… She's the statue at the town square, right? Maybe it's her power that triggered the fire inside me to protect the town?"

"Exactly," Wooyoung nodded eagerly. "The power's been dormant, just waiting for the right spark to ignite."

Sitting up slightly, you felt a rush of clarity. "Yeah, like it's always been there, waiting for the perfect moment." But Wooyoung still seemed unsatisfied. He frowned, clearly searching for more answers. "But hat exactly made it trigger? There has to be more to it."

Groaning, you rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling in frustration. "Ugh, Woo… it was the battle! That’s what set it off—there were townspeople in danger!"

"Nah, that’s too simple," Wooyoung said, shaking his head. "From what I remember in the history of Brigid, she protects people, yes that's true but it always been specific to who she wants to protect all her life. It can’t just be because the townspeople were in danger. There’s something deeper. You’re holding something back."

He grabbed your hand, his face leaning closer as his eyes searched yours. You furrowed your brow, confused by his suspicion. "No, I'm not. There’s nothing else."

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “You mentioned San being at the library. I was out with Jongho, so it was just you and San. What really happened?"

Your gaze drifted as you sifted through memories, trying to recall every detail. When your eyes met his again, you sighed. "Okay, fine. San was there during the battle with the dementors. I mistook him for Choi San from our universe and kept talking to him casually."

Wooyoung's grin widened. "And?"

You sighed again, reluctantly continuing. "He got suspicious because it's like I knew who he was. I made fun of him for looking all regal and told him to stop with the pranks. He threatened to take me to the palace, but then the dementors attacked, and I had to save his ass."

"And?" Wooyoung repeated, his voice teasing.

"And... that’s it. It has nothing to do with him."

Wooyoung leaned back, smirking. "Ah! But that’s where you're wrong. It has everything to do with San. Something about his presence triggered the fire inside you."

You pushed yourself up, frowning at his conclusion, “Okay look, we’re both at loss here. You don’t have a clue why this is all happening in the first place. You said San is under a curse like the rest of his ancestors, yet you don’t know why it happened to you too, you and the others are also under the curse, it made things more complicated.”

“Hey—” You turn around, pointing your forefinger at him, “I’m lost because I don’t know the real reason for this royal drama happening. Tell me I’m wrong, Woo. I’m not even sure if I’m concluding things right in my head.” And suddenly pointed at him again, “You’re looking for this “key” that so happened to be me and I barely knew any of your history aside from this book, so how do you expect me to solve all of this?!”

“And this power— whether your theory about me inheriting Brigid’s power is correct, then we have to know more of it.”

He moved his mouth to speak but when your words hit him in the head, it made him stay silent. You knew you were piecing them one by one and confirming them makes you think you were step ahead of the mystery of this curse happening in the family line of San— so the other lines.

It seems like his eyes shine when you say in your last sentence that it made him shoot up from his bed and walk towards you. His hands placed each on your shoulders and squeezed them while looking at you with a big smile, “And this is exactly why I’m happy it chooses you! You’re a genius!”

You raised one eyebrow, eyeing him, “What now?”

“Brigid! Your powers are close to Brigid and I know one person can help us but I don’t know if she will read it.” Your eyebrows met again, “Who?”

He smirks, “Noella. Hongjoong’s sister.”

taglist: @passerbyforfun . @seongwars . @candied-czennie

[the-storm-of-ruin]

Zilventi - Detailed Character Reference Sheet

**Name:** Zilventi

**Race:** High Elf/(Eastern) Dragon Beastman Hybrid

**Gender:** Female

**Age:** 800+

**Affiliation:** Laios' Party

**Best Friend:** Laios

**Arch Nemesis:** Thristle

**Love Interest:** Mithrun (He is secretly pining for her), Thristle (He's pretty toxic), Laios (I'm not sure he understands what he's feeling)

**Total Number of Deaths:** 124,522 (Record holder for the greatest number of unnatural deaths)

**Most Traumatic Dungeon Encounter:** Phoenix

**Best Known For:** Stealing a dragon egg to raise it as a pet (returned due to safety concerns).

---

**Physical Appearance:**

**Height:** Zilventi stands tall at 6'0", with an elegant, statuesque figure. Her presence is both commanding and graceful, a blend of elven refinement and draconic power.

**Hair:** Her hair is a shimmering cascade of black, streaked with strands that resemble fine, iridescent scales. It flows down to her waist, and in moments of intense emotion or when channeling magic, it almost appears to ripple with a life of its own. The texture is silky yet slightly thicker than typical elven hair, a testament to her draconic heritage. She tends to keep her hair in either a ponytail or a braid, she never changes the long, curtain bangs on the left side though.

**Eyes:** Zilventi's eyes are a vivid purpleish silver, with vertical slit pupils that give her a distinctly draconic gaze. Her eyes can glow faintly in the dark, casting an eerie, ethereal light when she is deep in thought or tapping into her draconic powers. When angry or casting powerful spells, her eyes burn with an intense, fiery glow.

**Skin:** Her skin is pale, almost like porcelain, giving her an otherworldly appearance. Scattered across her body are patches of smooth, dark purple dragon scales. These scales are primarily along her arms, legs, shoulders, and down her spine. The scales are highly resistant to damage and shimmer with a metallic sheen under the light.

**Markings:** Her body is adorned with intricate, silver tattoos that trace along her arms, back, and legs. These tattoos, inspired by ancient elven designs, glow faintly when she channels her magic. They are a visual manifestation of her dual heritage, resembling ancient elven script. Her most prominent marking is a large, swirling design on her back that symbolizes the eternal cycle of life and death—an ironic nod to her many resurrections.

**Ears:** Her ears are long, pointed, and slightly curved, typical of a High Elf. However, the tips are adorned with fine, delicate scales, a subtle reminder of her mixed heritage.

**Clothing:** Zilventi favors attire that blends elegance with practicality. Her typical outfit consists of a robe made from enchanted black and silver fabric, embroidered with intricate dragon motifs. The robe is light and airy, allowing for swift movement, and is enchanted to provide protection against both physical and magical attacks. Beneath her robe, she wears a form-fitting armor made from lightweight yet durable dragon scale mail and soft black dragon leather, tailored to accommodate her agile fighting style. Her boot are made for stealth.

**Accessories:** She wears a dragon claw pendant around her neck, a family heirloom believed to be from one of her ancestors. The claw is imbued with ancient magic and serves as both a protective charm and a focus for her draconic abilities. She also wears several rings and bracelets, each enchanted with different protective and enhancement spells. Zilventi carries a staff made from a rare wood, that takes the form of a tree, and a catrip wand with a hidden blade.

**Personality:**

**Brave & Reckless:** Zilventi is known for her fearless nature, often diving headfirst into danger without a second thought. Her recklessness is legendary, and her numerous deaths are a testament to her willingness to take risks. She thrives on the thrill of the unknown and the excitement of battle, often placing herself in harm’s way to protect her companions or satisfy her insatiable curiosity.

**Mischievous & Playful:** Zilventi has a mischievous streak, often teasing and playing pranks on her companions, especially Laios. Her sense of humor is sharp, and she enjoys making light of even the direst situations. However, her playful nature is also a defense mechanism, masking the pain and trauma of her many deaths. She often uses humor to deflect serious conversations or to lighten the mood after a difficult battle.

**Compassionate:** Despite her reckless and mischievous nature, Zilventi has a deep well of compassion. She cares deeply for her companions and is fiercely protective of them. Her attempt to raise a dragon egg as a pet is a reflection of her nurturing side and her desire to form deep, meaningful bonds. She is always the first to rush to a friend’s aid, even if it means putting herself in danger.

**Stoic & Resilient:** Having faced death more times than she can count, Zilventi has developed a stoic resilience. She has come to terms with the transient nature of life and is unafraid of death, viewing it as just another obstacle to overcome. However, the trauma of her many deaths, particularly her encounter with the phoenix, has left deep emotional scars. She hides her pain behind a mask of bravery and humor, refusing to let it slow her down.

**Curious & Knowledgeable:** Zilventi is driven by an insatiable curiosity. She is always eager to learn more about the dungeons they explore, the creatures they encounter, and the magic that binds their world. Her vast knowledge of dungeons, creatures, and magic makes her an invaluable asset to the party. However, her curiosity sometimes leads her into trouble, as she is often willing to take dangerous risks in the pursuit of knowledge.

**Background:**

Zilventi’s lineage is a rare and powerful blend of High Elf and Eastern Dragon Beastman. Born to a High Elf mother, a revered mage in her homeland, and a formidable Eastern Dragon Beastman father, Zilventi’s early life was a unique mixture of elven culture and draconic traditions. Her childhood was spent in the serene forests of her mother’s people, where she learned the art of elven magic, studied ancient lore, and honed her natural agility and grace.

However, her father’s draconic blood called to her from an early age, manifesting in her physical appearance and magical abilities. As a child, she would often find herself drawn to the mountains and caves, where she could feel the pull of her draconic heritage. Her father, a proud and powerful Eastern Dragon, taught her to embrace her dual nature, training her in the ways of the dragon—enhancing her physical abilities, honing her elemental powers, and nurturing her instinctual connection to the world around her.

As she grew older, Zilventi’s curiosity about her draconic heritage and her desire for adventure led her to leave her forest home and seek out the dungeons that held the mysteries of her ancestry. Her journey eventually led her to Laios' party, where she found both companionship and the thrill of exploration. Her unique abilities, combined with her deep knowledge of magic and creatures, made her an invaluable member of the team.

Zilventi’s most traumatic experience occurred during an encounter with a phoenix deep within a treacherous dungeon. The battle was fierce, and despite her formidable abilities, she was unable to withstand the creature’s relentless power. The encounter left her physically and emotionally scarred, as the phoenix’s flames burned away much of her skin, only for her to regenerate and die repeatedly in a cycle of agony. The experience forced her to confront the reality of her many deaths, leaving her with a deep fear of rebirth and a lingering wariness of fire.

Despite the trauma, Zilventi emerged from the encounter with renewed determination, vowing never to let her fear hold her back. She continues to push forward, driven by a desire to discover the secrets of her draconic lineage and to protect those she cares about.

Zilventi is perhaps best known for one particularly daring escapade where she stole a dragon egg from a dangerous dungeon. Her intention was to raise the dragon as a companion, believing that it would be a powerful ally and a connection to her draconic heritage. However, her party quickly realized the danger of raising a dragon and convinced her to return the egg. Though she agreed, Zilventi still dreams of one day raising a dragon and forging a bond with one of her kin.

**Abilities:**

**Elemental Magic Mastery:** Zilventi has a deep mastery of elemental magic, a skill inherited from her High Elf mother. She specializes in wind and earth magic, capable of manipulating the elements with ease. Her draconic blood also grants her control over fire and lightning, allowing her to unleash devastating attacks in battle. She can create powerful gusts of wind, summon protective barriers of earth, and call down lightning strikes with pinpoint accuracy.

**Draconic Power:** Zilventi’s draconic lineage grants her enhanced physical abilities, including heightened strength, speed, and endurance. She is incredibly agile, able to move with the grace and speed of both elf and dragon. Her senses are also heightened, particularly her sight and smell, making her an excellent scout and tracker.

**Regeneration:** One of Zilventi’s most unique abilities is her accelerated healing factor. Her draconic blood allows her to regenerate from injuries at a much faster rate than most beings. While not instantaneous, her regeneration can heal severe wounds in a matter of hours, though it is not powerful enough to prevent her many deaths in the face of overwhelming damage.

**Flight:** Zilventi possesses, retractable dragon wings that she can summon at will. These wings are strong enough for sustained flight and can be used for short bursts, allowing her to glide over obstacles or launch herself into the air for quick maneuvers. However, using her wings is physically taxing, and she can only maintain flight for short periods before needing to rest.

**Dragon’s Roar:** Zilventi has the ability to unleash a powerful roar imbued with draconic magic. This roar can stun enemies, create shockwaves, or even shatter weaker defenses. It is a rare ability that she uses sparingly, as it drains a significant amount of her energy.

**Role in the Party:**

Zilventi serves as both a versatile spellcaster and a frontline combatant in Laios' party. Her blend of elemental magic, draconic power, and physical prowess makes her a valuable asset in a variety of situations, whether the party is navigating treacherous terrain, facing off against dangerous monsters, or uncovering the secrets of ancient dungeons.

**Scout and Tracker:** With her heightened senses and keen instincts, Zilventi often takes on the role of the party's scout. Her sharp eyesight allows her to spot hidden traps, enemies, and pathways, while her sense of smell helps her track down creatures or locate rare ingredients within the dungeon. Her agility and speed enable her to quickly traverse difficult terrain, making her the first to explore new areas or lead the way through perilous environments.

**Frontline Combatant:** Zilventi's physical abilities and magical prowess make her a formidable frontline fighter. She is quick on her feet, able to dodge attacks and strike back with precision. Her elemental magic gives her the power to control the battlefield, using wind to knock enemies off balance, earth to create barriers or traps, and fire or lightning to deal heavy damage. In close combat, her draconic strength allows her to overpower opponents, while her scales provide additional protection.

**Magical Support:** In addition to her combat abilities, Zilventi also provides crucial magical support to her party. She can heal minor wounds with her magic, create protective barriers to shield her allies, and dispel harmful enchantments or curses. Her knowledge of ancient lore and magical creatures often proves invaluable when the party encounters mysterious artifacts or formidable foes.

**Morale Booster:** Zilventi's playful and mischievous personality helps to keep the party's spirits high, even in the darkest of dungeons. Her humor and lightheartedness provide a welcome relief from the constant dangers they face, and her unwavering bravery inspires her companions to push forward, no matter the odds. Her deep bond with Laios, in particular, makes her a source of comfort and strength for the party leader.

**Relationships:**

**Laios:** Zilventi shares a deep and unbreakable bond with Laios. As her best friend, Laios understands Zilventi's complexities better than anyone else. They share a mutual respect and trust that has been forged through countless battles and adventures. Zilventi often teases Laios, but she is fiercely protective of him, and her loyalty to him is unwavering. Laios, in turn, values Zilventi's courage and wisdom, often relying on her insights and instincts when making difficult decisions.

**Mithrun:** Though Zilventi is unaware of it, Mithrun secretly harbors deep feelings for her. He admires her strength, resilience, and the way she faces danger without hesitation. Zilventi, however, sees Mithrun as a reliable and skilled companion, but is oblivious to his romantic interest. The tension between them adds an undercurrent of unspoken emotions to their interactions, with Mithrun often going out of his way to protect or support her during their adventures.

**Thristle:** Thristle’s feelings for Zilventi are complicated by his own pride and the walls he’s built around himself. He’s not the type to openly express affection, and his feelings often come out in ways that are more aggressive than tender. This internal conflict adds a layer of tension to their interactions, as Thristle grapples with emotions he’s not used to dealing with.

**Other Party Members:** Zilventi is well-liked by the other members of the party, who appreciate her skills and her lively personality. Though her recklessness can sometimes cause frustration, they know that her heart is in the right place and that she would do anything to keep them safe. Her many deaths have also made her a figure of both awe and concern, as the party members grapple with the reality of her unique existence.

**Notable Traits:**

**Resilient Soul:** Zilventi’s numerous deaths have left her with an indomitable spirit. She has faced death more times than any other being, yet she continues to press forward, driven by a determination that is as much a part of her as her draconic blood. This resilience makes her fearless in the face of danger, but also gives her a deep understanding of loss and the value of life.

**Dragon’s Blood:** Her draconic heritage is a double-edged sword, granting her immense power but also setting her apart from both elves and dragons. She is often torn between her two worlds, struggling to reconcile her elven upbringing with her draconic instincts. This internal conflict drives her to explore her heritage further, seeking out dungeons and relics that might hold the key to understanding her true nature.

**Curiosity and Recklessness:** Zilventi’s insatiable curiosity is both her greatest strength and her greatest weakness. While it leads her to discover hidden secrets and uncover powerful magic, it also puts her in danger time and time again. Her willingness to take risks often results in her untimely demise, but she never lets fear hold her back, always ready to leap into the unknown.

**Inventory:**

**Dragon Claw Pendant:** A treasured heirloom from her father’s side, this pendant is a source of comfort and power for Zilventi. It enhances her draconic abilities and provides protection against magical attacks. The pendant is also a key to unlocking ancient draconic spells, though Zilventi has yet to fully understand its potential.

**Staff of Wanderlust:** Crafted from a rare wood, Zilventi’s staff is a weapon, a magical focus and a companion. Created out of the branch of a curious Treant, the staff is inlaid with a crystal at its top, usually hanging from it are feathers and ornaments found throughout her travels.

The staff is attuned to the elements, allowing her to channel her magic with greater precision and power. The crystal glows when she casts spells, and the staff can be used to create barriers, control the elements, or unleash devastating attacks.

The staff is a sentient chaotic good staff. The staff telepathically speaks with her and can speak, read and understand Common, Dwarvish, Half-foot and Elven tongue's.

When traveling the staff has a habit of humming travel songs and occasionally comments on note- worthy locations or sights. The staff has been imbued with the curiosity and wanderlust of the Treant it grew out off and all those that have wielded it since.

It seeks to see and learn as much of the world as possible. Conflict arises if it feels it is kept in one place for too long. When shown any particularly interesting or unique locations the staff might choose to reward her by sharing stories and secrets about places it has been or those it traveled with.

The staff has no name, but happily takes on any name it is given.

**Potions and Elixirs:** Zilventi carries a variety of potions and elixirs, many of which she creates herself using rare ingredients found in dungeons. These potions range from healing elixirs to enhance her regeneration to powerful brews that temporarily boost her magical abilities. She also carries antidotes and remedies for various dungeon hazards, ensuring that she is always prepared for the unexpected.

**Dragon Egg (Returned):** Though she no longer possesses it, the dragon egg that Zilventi once stole remains a significant part of her story. The egg was a symbol of her desire to connect with her draconic heritage, and its loss was a painful but necessary decision. She still dreams of one day raising a dragon, believing that it would be a powerful ally and a link to her ancestry.

**Future Aspirations:**

**Uncovering Her Heritage:** Zilventi’s journey is far from over. She continues to search for clues about her draconic lineage, hoping to uncover the secrets of her father’s people and understand the full extent of her powers. Her quest is driven by a desire to reconcile her dual nature and find her place in a world that often sees her as an outsider.

**Raising a Dragon:** Despite the failure of her first attempt, Zilventi still dreams of raising a dragon. She believes that forming a bond with a dragon would not only grant her a powerful ally but also bring her closer to understanding her draconic side. She is determined to find another dragon egg, one that she can keep and nurture without endangering her party.

**Overcoming Her Fears:** The encounter with the phoenix left Zilventi with a deep-seated fear of fire. Though she has faced countless deaths, the memory of being burned alive and repeatedly revived haunts her. She is determined to confront this fear and find a way to overcome the trauma it left behind, perhaps by seeking out the phoenix once more or by mastering her own draconic flames.

**Strengthening Bonds:** Zilventi values her relationships with her party members, especially Laios and Mithrun. She seeks to strengthen these bonds, knowing that their companionship is a source of strength and comfort in the dangerous world they navigate. Though she is unaware of Mithrun’s feelings, she may one day come to recognize and reciprocate them, adding a new dimension to their relationship.

**Summary:**

Zilventi is a character defined by contrasts—bravery and recklessness, compassion and mischief, elven grace and draconic power. Her journey is one of self-discovery, as she seeks to understand her unique heritage and carve out a place for herself in a world of dungeons, monsters, and magic. Despite her many deaths and the trauma she has endured, Zilventi remains a beacon of resilience and hope, always ready to face the next challenge with a smile on her face and fire in her heart.

[doitwritenow]

Supreme Super family gets sucked up into WandaVision(let's imagine Tony's alive in this or is from the multiverse). Ironstrange think they're married with a high school kid. Tony is a science teacher, strange is town doctor, and peter is a regular kid. No memories of they're real life. Rhody, Pepper, and Aunt May and Morgan could be added to this too if you wanted.

OHHO! Sorry it took me so long to reply to this; I had to finish the show, for one thing, and then my brain started going all sorts of places with the prompt... and well. I have on heck of a ramble coming, so buckle up! 

(Also, spoilers through the series, so watch out!) 

— — —

It starts with a question on Vision’s job application.

That’s all. So simple, so innocuous, so innocent. Vision is casually recording information that he doesn’t yet realize he can’t remember, and he arrives at a line that asks his family history. It’s nothing complex, left on the application only because Wanda’s subconscious had glossed over the question. So does Vision’s, as a result. But he wants this job. They want to fit in, and so they answer the question truthfully.

Vision writes ‘Stark’, unaware. ‘Tony Stark.’

And pop. Just like that. 

On the edge of Westview, there suddenly is and has always been a small, well-kept mechanic’s shop. It’s run by an aging man with a bright mind and a brighter smile. He’s lived here since he came back from the war, but no one knows for how long. And he has no memory—no memory at all—of what came before. 

Of the round scar in the center of his chest. 

He doesn’t need to know. No one needs to know; he’s just a side character, after all. Just the answer to a line on a job application.

Just so that something, anything, about Vision’s life here isn’t a lie. 

-

Yeah, so Tony gets manifested within the Hex—but because he’s one of Wanda’s creations and not someone being mind-controlled, he is able to exist with agency within Westview. He has no reason, however, to believe anything is amiss; he’s been resurrected only to play a character, and his memories and surface-level motivations only extend to the limits of that character.

But Wanda has other regret. Wanda has other anger and understanding and forgiveness and gratefulness, and she knew Tony Stark, once. 

She knew his worst nightmare—and it’s easy to craft a soul from that, really.

(But it’s fine, of course it’s fine. Tony has no reason to pull down the walls of that hidden spirit. He’s content in his role, just like Vision. So it’s fine. 

… Right?) 

-

Agatha stands at the base of a towering barrier with her hands on her hips. One side of her mouth is quirked up into a considering, scheming smile, and her magic probes out around her curiously. This is the source of the power she’d felt; she’s sure of it. The spell work… the instinctual, unconscious spell work is so intense she can almost taste it.

How is it possible? What’s the secret? 

Agatha must know. And besides; this is the most interesting thing that’s happened to her since the seventeenth century. 

She’s about to reach out, about to cross into the heart of the magic, when she hears it. A footstep. Quiet and dark and making no attempt at stealth. 

Agatha grips her magic. “Who’s there?” she demands. 

Someone steps out of the trees. A human, Agatha thinks, though you can never be sure nowadays. He wears a hood of green and his hands are dark where they hang at his sides. 

“Witch,” the figure declares.

Agatha raises an eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“Yes,” says Karl Mordo. “I rather think you can.”

-

Okay, cut to New York. Stephen Strange is exhausted, wrung dry trying to keep the edges of the universe from deteriorating now that the stabilization factors of the Infinity Stones have been destroyed. One task runs into the next, one morning into the night. One future into all the others. 

But Stephen likes the work; it keeps his mind in one place. He’s always alert these days. Always listening. 

So when someone calls out to him from New Jersey, he can hear.

It’s Mordo luring him in, of course, but he doesn’t know that yet. After Dormammu, and certainly after all those futures, Stephen has too much experience for Mordo to hope to get the better of. The old Master is still dedicated to his ‘too many sorcerers’ shebangerang, though, so he’s employed help. Maybe he can kill two birds with one stone. Two world-threateningly powerful magic users with one stone. 

Stephen follows the call, because of course he does. It sounds like a call for help; what else is he supposed to do? The kelpie situation in the Thames can wait. Wong waves him off, tells him to be careful without much hope of Stephen listening, and takes over the Sanctum for the few hours Stephen intends to be gone.

(It’s not for a few hours.)

-

But there’s someone else we should mention before we see what Westview has planned for Stephen. See, a certain spider-kid has just had his identity outed, and his only allies once called themselves Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

Nick Fury and Maria Hill, Peter discovers, are not Nick Fury and Maria Hill.

“You’re aliens?” Peter demands, his hands warding the space in front of him. 

Of course they’re aliens, part of him sighs. Of course. Why wouldn’t one more thing just go crazy in his life? Why let him remember what ‘normal’ even felt like? Why the hell not? 

“Er, yes,” says not-Fury. “My name is Talos. But we do still want to help you.”

Helping Peter doesn’t go according to plan. See, the Skrull try to approach SWORD for Monica Rambaeu’s help regarding the kid who saved their lives, but Monica has disappeared. 

Talos only turns around for two seconds. Really, it’s only a moment. But when he turns back, Peter Parker has disappeared, too.

-

“Woah.” 

Stephen stops, a hand coming up to shield his third eye as he squints into the absolute maelstrom of power swirling in a hexagonal wall in front of him. It doesn’t feel like the Order’s magic—not like something of the Mystic Arts. It’s something far more human and gritty. Stephen’s perception can’t extend through it. He frowns.

He takes a step forward, the Cloak swirling around his ankles, and begins to stitch his mental walls into place. His wards are strong, even unconsciously.

That’s probably what saves him, in all honesty. 

Two strong, human hands plant themselves in the small of Stephen’s back and shove him into the barrier. Stephen opens his mouth to yell, raises his hands to cast a spell— but blue and red are surrounding him now. Devouring him, now. They lick at his mind, slamming against unbreakable walls.

But they are unbreakable too. 

Stephen disappears. 

-

(Mordo used a portal to get behind him and knock him into the Hex, btw.) 

It’s those hasty mental walls that keep Stephen from being completely consumed into the Westview spells. He is not fully mind-controlled, nor is he left half-animated and frozen like most people near Ellis Avenue. But there is one main rule of Wanda Maximoff’s Westview, and that, Stephen can’t escape completely. 

‘No one remembers outside.’

Stephen doesn’t. In fact, he doesn’t remember anything at all. 

-

Tony Stark finds the man lying on the side of the road. He’s just finished dropping his kid Peter off at the Westview high school (it hasn’t occurred to him that it’s weird how he never sees the boy’s classmates. Or that Peter never seems to have stories from school. Or that the kid is always waiting in the exact same place that Tony dropped him off at whenever Tony comes to pick him up. Tony has no reason to think too hard; he’s just a side character—right?). 

“Uh, hi?” Tony pauses, the car puffing it’s irritation when he stops it too quickly. He cranks down the window and leans out. 

The man blinks, slowly, at the sky. He sits up hesitantly, like he hasn’t noticed Tony, and rubs his hand across his face. He pulls it away after a moment and frowns at it. Tony wonders why he looks so confused—it’s not like there’s anything wrong with the man’s hand. No scars or anything. 

“Hi, sir,” Tony says again. “Are you alright?”

The man jumps. He looks over at Tony—and there’s something weird about his eyes. Something… really weird. (Color, says a voice in the back of his mind that he hasn’t heard for a very, very long time. That’s color.)

“Who are you?” Tony asks. He parks the car completely now. 

The man looks down at his hands again. “I’m—” he begins. He’s frowning again.

“Come on now,” Tony encourages. “How hard can it be?”

The man tugs at the scarf around his neck—and it must be windier than Tony thought, because the edges of it are swaying as if of their own accord— and swallows. 

“I don’t know,” he says.

-

So of course Tony brings Stephen back with him. He prods at the man until Stephen manages to blurt out ‘Doctor Stephen Strange’ for no reason either of them can remember. But it makes Stephen relax, a little, to have it on his tongue. 

Tony catches Stephen staring at him after that. A lot. When he asks him why, Stephen has no clear answer; just a vague “you remind me of someone.” For Stephen’s part, all he knows is that seeing Tony gives him an indistinct sense of relief. Like he’d been missing someone deeply, and has now found it again. 

Still. He can’t quite put his finger on it. Just like he can’t quite put his finger on why his hands don’t hurt when he tries to write…

-

Vision visits Tony, sometimes, whenever he remembers, or whenever someone in the town mentions the old mechanic. He brings Wanda. They have fun, but Vision always goes home feeling slightly baffled. And Tony always feels like something hurts, deep in the center of his chest. 

Vision likes his adopted younger brother. (And Peter gets along just fine with the twins, too, when they come along, so Wanda doesn’t change anything about it). But when the man with the bright eyes stares at him with just a bit too much calculation on his face, Vision starts to be reminded of… things. Of suspicions. Of Geraldine and how she had no home and no history. And he doesn’t quite look Wanda in the eye that dinner. 

“What do you do?” Wanda asks, her voice a little hard, a little suspicious. Vision tries not to wince. Whatever it is she’s not telling him, this man at his father’s dinner table reminds her of it. 

Tony flips his fork, balancing it like one might a wrench. “Stephen’s a doctor,” he says.  

Wanda’s face flickers. “That’s funny,” she says blankly. “Because no one in this town ever needs one.” 

-

For a while, Tony Stark didn’t see anything amiss here. He was created, was consistent, was emptily and vaguely pleased. But Tony Stark is Tony Stark, whatever character he’s been told to play. Tony Stark wants to help people. 

And this man, this strange doctor with the eyes that would sometimes go blank for long minutes and the tears that would stain sharp cheeks for a reason he claimed not to remember, needs help.

So Tony Stark begins to scratch at Wanda’s walls. 

-

 “What do you mean he’s here?”

“I mean your little plan didn’t work,” Agatha says. She stands on the edge of Westview, speaking through a mirror of magic to the man outside. She’s liking this sorcerer less and less the more she works with him—but he has been rather helpful so far, so she continues to put up with him. 

“Does he remember?”

“No,” Agatha says. “The dad that Wanda made up for Vision has taken him in. It’s kind of adorable, actually.”

“Hm.” Mordo’s mouth twists. “You’ll finish the job?”

Agatha shrugs nonchalantly. “Sure. When I get around to it.”

“You don’t want to wait. Deal with Strange now, before he remembers how to be a threat.”

Agatha laughs. It’s brittle, fully conveying her hostility. “Ha, my good sorcerer, listen. Unless you want to come in here and do the job yourself, you’ll let me handle this my way.”

Agatha’s way involves getting to the bottom of things, of course. And that’s rather convenient… because Vision has begun to try to do the same thing. 

— — — —

Okay that’s all I have for now? The other bits are still solidifying in my mind, and it’s basically all Horrible Angst. I hope this scratches a little of the itch of your ask, though! Feel free, anyone, to add onto this if you’d like! I really enjoyed the show, and I think it has some really awesome AU potential. 

Thanks for the ask!!!

[natromanxoff]

Record Mirror (July 14, 1979): 119/?

THE QUEEN BACKLASH ENDS HERE

WITHOUT DOUBT Queen are among that elite number of bands universally hated by the rock press.

The rancour is, make no mistake, mutual which is understandable. If you find yourself on the receiving end of an inveterate dislike at the outset of your career and watch it being nurtured and carefully cultivated over the next six years you’re bound to retaliate.

Queen’s hatred manifests itself by their continued habit of ignoring the music press i.e. refusing to give interviews. There is the occasional token “chat”, pointless as it is innocuous, but in the main it amounts to a blanket “No.”

One of the last interviews Freddie Mercury gave was the last nail in the perspex coffin. Under a headline which boldly asked ‘Is This Man A Prat?’ the king of the leotards was demolished by one of the old school Queen haters and Freddie obviously came to the conclusion, in its wake, that interviews in future would be both superfluous (he was popular enough) and detrimental.

The curtain, velvet naturally, closed.

Roger Taylor, a little wary, a little weary, sits stiffly in an armchair. The juggernauts rattling the Chelsea Street outside create a sonorous buzz bomb hum in the room.

You expect a member of Queen to look elegant. In fact Roger is only wearing a wine colour mohair jacket, black shirt and blue jeans.

He apologises for being a little late and explains how he went to the wrong address. Roger seems to be the only member of Queen left who is prepared, albeit rarely, to open his mouth in the presence of a hack. A question springs to mind . . . why?

“We all sat around a table before I flew over from Munich to discuss the press situation and we agreed I should be the one to represent the band. Freddie is very uncompromising and refuses to have much to do with journalists.

“Obviously, he’s had a few raw deals with them in the past,” observes Taylor.

Roger himself has a rather low view of the music press.

“Most of it is rubbish. There was something I liked recently, a piece on Malcolm McLaren, but in the main I think I’m the only one of Queen to actually read the music papers.”

Why does he think the band are systemically slagged?

“I think it’s because Queen have always come across as being a rather confident band. We seemed, to other people at least, to be very sure of ourselves. I think the press may have misconstrued the confidence, mistaking it for a form of arrogance. Hence they became wary of our motives which bred a dislike for our music.”

Now that’s what I call a neat conclusion.

At the risk of being sent to Coventry by my colleagues I’d like, if I may, to come clean. I love Queen (you’re fired, Ed).

I think it all began with a simple pre-packed but indisposable line – “Dynamite with a laser beam” and has continued uninterrupted (despite the occasional flaw) right through to ‘Queen Live Killers’.

A combination of reasons, Freddie Mercury’s lascivious lisp – the most attractive intonation known to man . . . Brian May’s reel ‘em off rococo riffs that would, in his capable hands, transform the theme music for ‘Waggoners’ Walk’ into a meisterwork . . . John Deacon’s almost stoic stance, incongruous yet integral . . . Roger Taylor’s intense power, so unexpected from one so slight . . . the ability to go over the top without failing into the trap of caricature . . . a desire to give the punters what they want without pandering . . . that cast iron confidence . . . those nine glorious winter weeks of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ which kept the cold away from my soul . . .

Yes, I love Queen.

Roger explains the story behind ‘Killers’ which features just about every Queen classic which ever found its way into a silk lined memory bank.

“We always knew that one day we would make a live album. I think it was well planned. About 90 per cent of our last European tour was recorded on a mobile unit and we then spent weeks sitting through the songs in the studio.

“The result is a 100 per cent LIVE album. Nothing has been touched up in the process of selection, I think that’s pretty rare these days. Many ‘live’ albums are tampered with.”

The choice of single is unusual – ‘Love Of My Life’. “It’s not so unusual when you hear the way it came out. The song seems to have such a wide appeal. Everywhere we go the reaction to it is the same. The audience are just bursting to sing along.”

The result is Queen’s best single since ‘Don’t Stop Me Now’ (that was their LAST one crawler, ED)

As I mentioned earlier the band are currently residing in Munich where they are “experimenting” in the studio.

“We are recording in a totally different way for us,” says Roger who speaks with a delicate London accent only typical of cockneys with dramatic training and David Essex.

“Every time we entered a studio in the past we had a good idea of what we were going to do. This time we started from scratch and the result is amazing. The music is nothing like anything we’ve done before, I guess you could say it’s much simpler.”

And this novel approach to their music also extends to their shows. On their next British tour – in the late Autumn – the band will be playing much smaller venues than they are accustomed to.

“In London for example we went to play to audiences of about two or three thousand in different areas. I think it’s much fairer to the fans.”

But won’t this affect their stage show which is after all a crucial factor for any powerpomp outfit?

“Not really. We will just scale down the show accordingly. Besides,” he says taking another bite out of the biscuit, “we haven’t used dry ice in years.”

The monkey on Queen’s back, as corpulent and cantankerous as ever, has been put there by those who firmly believe the band can never emulate past achievements. Roger is cognizant of its presence but refuses to unpeel its bananas.

“That all began after ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. When it stayed at number one all those weeks we were kindly informed that we would never be able to make another single to rival it both artistically and from the point of view of sales.

“Yet ‘We Are The Champions’ sold a great deal more and has since become the biggest selling single in the entire history of Elektra Asylum – our label in the States.

“We don’t do the amazingly complex things any more because we’ve moved on from that. We concentrate on the music we are doing now and we intend to do it the best we can, it’s ridiculous looking behind and and what you’ve done.

“There’s nothing like going back on the road to re-unite the bond between the four personalities and strengthening our belief in the band. We are a real working unit and, in my experience of the music business, one of the most democratic bands around today.”

A statement like that cries out to be expounded.

“People think every member of all the bands, not naming any names, are treated equally that is get the same money as their colleagues. That’s rubbish. In many bands there are a couple of guys that get all the money. The rest are on wages. Queen share the profits equally.”

And they don’t have a manager taking his cut either, John Reid departed a couple of years back and now the band themselves make all the major policy decisions. Why did they decide to dispense with the services of a manager?

“Basically because we were fed up with giving other people money. Y’know it never ceases to amaze me how naive those guys are in bands who have just had their first hit. After all this time I’ve forgotten just how naive we must have been at the beginning.

“I mean, everything seems so great when you get into the charts for the first time. You’re living on cloud nine and nothing else matters. But in truth that hit means absolutely nothing. So few people achieve any amount of financial success in this business.

“Oh, you think, you’re really living . . . for a while. Somebody gets you a flat in Chelsea and it’s all free. But one day the rent stops being paid for you and you realise you’re skint.

“Since John Reid has gone the four of us have always made a point of discussing everything together. We have various people working for us but all the important decisions are made by us alone. That way we get freedom of choice – and financial independence.”

My attention is suddenly diverted.

“FORTY-LOVE!” Wimbledon, the Persil White opiate for the hoi polloi squashed in a strawberry crush wrings out its perspiring petticoats on the TV in the next room.  Roger’s girlfriend, an extremely attractive French girl called Dominique, is engrossed. The couple have lived together for two years. Crippled old marriage questions permeate the air.

“I don’t believe in marriage,” says Roger. “It’s simply a contract and the fewer contracts I enter into the better. If you get on well with someone then there isn’t any harm in living with that person – but marriage is something else again.”

They live in a six bedroomed Victorian house just outside London, which is set in 20 acres. Roger has a “tiny” town house in Barnes as well. What’s it like having a bank full of money at the age of 29?

“I don’t hide away from life. Queen have never been one of those ‘being grabbed in the street’ type bands. It may happen when the four of us are together – but when we are out alone we are seldom bothered. That gives me the opportunity to enjoy myself. I go to clubs a lot. I like having a good time. I don’t think you could describe any of the band as leading sheltered lives.

“But I have completely lost touch with how much things cost. When you find yourself living in hotels for so long you never really deal in money as such. Everything is available whenever you want it – but you never see the cash actually being handed over.

“I’ve forgotten what it was like to be penniless which Queen were for years. I guess that must happen to many successful rock bands.”

Another thing that happens to many successful rock bands – they quit the country. But not Queen it appears.

“We have always based ourselves in England and I see no reason why we shouldn’t continue to do so. We could leave at any time but we choose to stay. People believe we are tax exiles because we spend a lot of the time out of the country recording in studios all over Europe and touring.”

And what will happen when the band finally trudge wearily down the road leading to that  ivory strewn elephants’ graveyard . . . ?

“I know it’s bound to happen one day. I suppose I’d take a long, long holiday . . . and then make a solo album.”

[fatekeepers]

Story of the Fatekeepers Info Post!

Haha. This has been a long time coming. Honestly, while I've been very serious about this story, I've floundered when it comes to advertising it. It seems all I can manage are incorrect quotes. But I want that to change, so here's the first step.

What is this project even supposed to be?

The project, currently known as "Manda Kat's Story of the Fatekeepers" is an original story I've been 'developing' since childhood. I think the earliest records of it date back to comics and drawings I made in 2015, but since I didn't date my stuff, it could have been much earlier or later.

My intention and dream for this project is to create a three-season cartoon series. However, depending on time, budget or opportunities, it may manifest as a comic instead or both, which would be awesome.

It is a passion project for me and features many characters that I have deep personal connections to and while I am a content person, I feel like if I died without making anything of this story, I'd regret it at least a little bit.

So, what is the story about?

Oof. Hard question. A lot of things?

Joking aside, Fatekeepers is about a team of individuals, each from a different world, are hired by the Three Fates (old ladies who decide how the world works) to stop chaos from spreading through the multiple universes.

The characters are bright and unique, with a range of different designs and personalities. You're sure to find a character you like.

While the image below (the cover for a scrapped pitch) is old with out-of-date designs, it still gives an example of the variation between cast members which gives the core aesthetic of the show:

Each of the main characters will go through their own arc as the story progresses. Some arcs are dark and intriguing, while others are more lighthearted, giving viewers the chance to 'breathe' between the wilder episodes.

Since there will be some sad or intense plots (two of the main cast are dead, for goodness sake, it's gotta get pretty angsty) it's only fair to let people know that there will be some dark content such as death, suicide, abuse and loss. If an episode has potentially triggering or upsetting content, the plan is to have it properly marked as such so viewers can still enjoy the rest of the show and simply have episodes that might be harmful to them recapped later.

Despite the level of intensity, the show is going to be completely clean. There will be no nudity, sex, cursing or gratuitous violence. (No fight scenes beyond a Disney movie or something similar) I don't personally feel comfortable watching shows with those elements, so I will not be including in my own.

So, who is the show for?

Fatekeepers is written mostly for people like myself, teens and young adults who want zany, fun cartoons, but find current adult animation distasteful. I would probably say the show is targeted at the 13 and up demographic, considering how it's no more adult than most Disney Channel or Cartoon Network shows. The goal is for kids, teens and adults to be able to enjoy the show if they are cartoon fans.

My demographic is less of an age group than it is a community. And if you're in the community, you know who I'm talking about. You stalk animation studios, looking for new content, you watch reviews of Disney cartoons on YouTube, and you wish you could find that perfect show...

While I won't promise this will be that show, I do humbly offer it to be roasted, picked apart and (dare I say) loved if you'll accept it.

Cool! When can we expect this show?

Ah. Hahahhaha.

Oh, no. She's laughing. That's never a good sign.

Yeah, well, about that. I am currently twenty years old at the time of writing this with no animation or production experience. While I am passionate about this project and WILL turn it into something, you mark my words, I don't think it will be anytime soon.

That being said, I'm starting now. Because I know I'll never be ready. I'm currently writing the scripts for the entire series and working on some concept art. Once this is done, I plan on making a comic version of the first episode for investing purposes.

Of course, I won't be asking for a cent in support this project until I am confident in my abilities to make it a reality. I won't be one of those failed kickstarter nightmares. I plan on learning animation, but if I can't, I will plan on hiring animators. I will create a clear budgeting plan and talk to financial advisors because I know I don't know everything about this stuff.

Maybe it'll be ready in five years. More realistically ten years. I'd be fine if it took twenty years. Either way, I won't stop. Nothing will stop the Fatekeepers!

So this blog is here to show you what I'm doing with the project and to inspire you to chase your own dreams. Who cares if you don't have the experience? How else do you get experience besides just doing it? So do it!

If you have any questions about the project, the story or the gal behind it, please leave an ask! There is nothing I love more than chatting about the stuff I'm doing.

[secret-engima]

I'm almost entirely unfamiliar with Fairy Tail's anything. So. Do Dragon Slayers actually turn /into/ dragons? I'm getting the impression they do, so, following on that, can they only turn into one particular /type/ of dragon or are there options? Because I'm picturing Yang turning into an Eastern-style dragon, kinda shaped like Haku form Spirited Away. Very Long - no pun intended - and Very Big. Like, in the confrontation with Cinder, I'm seeing her all bunched up then /snarling/ echoingly.

*crashes in* HELLO. Alright so- there are actually different kinds of Dragon Slayers ... on several levels XD. So imma ramble a bit because I almost never get to let my Fairy Tail nerd out-.

There are three basic “generations” of Dragon Slayer: Gen 1, Gen 2, and Gen 3. Gen 1 is the term for Dragon Slayers who learned their magic directly from a dragon, Gen 2 are those who had a Dragon Lacrima (think crystalized orb of pure magic) surgically implanted inside them as an artificial magic core and Gen 3, who are Dragon Slayers that learned from a real dragon BUT also got a Lacrima implanted for the extra power boost.

NOW Gen 2 Slayers are at no risk of turning dragon. The Lacrima is ... idk how to describe it, kinda like a safety mechanism. They get the perks of Dragon Slayer magic but they are at no risk of turning into a dragon, since the magic technically isn’t in THEM, just in the LACRIMA that’s inside them.

Gen 1 and 3 on the other hand, have the magic directly inside their magic cores/their bodies. And Dragon Slayer Magic is literally just- Dragon Magic. Because in the Fairy Tail world, only a dragon can kill a dragon. But by extension-

Only a dragon can wield dragon magic. And if you aren’t a Gen 2 with a Lacrima safety net, and you are a non-dragon being using dragon magic. Well.

You won’t be a “non-dragon” after a few years of steady use (shorter if the use is intense).

There is actually a specific spell to prevent this in Gen 1 & 3 Slayers, but it has to be used Very Early On in the Dragon Slayer’s use of the magic and can only be cast by a dragon (specifically the dragon who gave them magic in the first place).

Most Dragon Slayers who Turned are implied to have gone either mad, committed suicide because of the pain/dysphoria of slowly changing species (the transformation isn’t fast unless, again, there is very intensive use of magic), but we do know of two who survived the process in canon (three if you count Fairy Tail’s new sequel series). The rest of the canon Dragon Slayers all had the Anti-Dragon Transformation Spell (that’s not it’s name but eh) used on them and are thus safe from transforming into dragons, which is how we know it’s a Thing.

For the record, Yang is a Gen 1 Slayer, she was taught Celestial Dragon Magic by an actual dragon. But, as stated above, there IS a way to prevent dragon transformation, though even Dragon Slayers who have this process done will still have draconic instincts/impulses and can manifest draconic traits when they use their magic to the max and/or are extremely stressed out (things like slitted eyes, sharp teeth, and some scaling forming on limbs/face are all shown in canon, but these fade as soon as the Dragon Slayer calms down enough)

As for dragon design- there is literally no type of dragon that they *can’t* be? The only requirement Mashima has ever shown for his dragons is that they match up with their element. So rather than being categorized by Western four legged dragons or Eastern danger noodles, dragons are grouped by whether they are Fire, Wind, Iron, etc and that influences their design. But even then, dragon designs in element can get ... wild. For examples this guy:

And THIS GUY:

Are both technically the same species since they are both “Fire Dragons”. But as you can see, one of them is literally made of fire for some reason.

SO ALL OF THAT IS TO SAY: If Yang was a Dragon Slayer who Turned into a full dragon, then yes, she could absolutely be a really long, really large, really angry Danger Noodle, so long as her dragon “parent” that gave her magic was also a Danger Noodle, since Dragon Slayers tend to take on dragon traits most similar to that of their parent dragon.

....That was probably way more info than necessary to answer your question, but as I said, I almost never get to let my FT nerd ramble on here so I couldn’t resist XDDD.

[lokiondisneyplus]

For his entire tenure as an Avenger, Anthony Mackie had never been the first name on the call sheet.

In a galaxy of stars populated by Robert Downey Jr., Chris Evans and Scarlett Johansson, the actor was aware of his place in the on-set pecking order, but would never miss an opportunity to make his presence felt.

“Number six on the call sheet has arrived!” Mackie would routinely shout on films like “Captain America: Civil War” and the box office-busting “Infinity Saga” sequels, according to Marvel chief creative officer Kevin Feige.

It exemplifies the sort of winning tone that the 42-year-old actor has brought to his superhero character the Falcon, aka Sam Wilson, for six movies from the top-earning studio — wry and collegial humor, with the potential to turn explosive at any moment. Both Mackie and his character are set to burn brighter than ever when the Disney Plus series “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier” lands on March 18.

On that call sheet, “Anthony is No. 1,” Feige is happy to report, “but it still says ‘No. 6.’ He kept it because he didn’t want it to go to his head.” The series is essentially a two-hander with his friend and longtime co-star Sebastian Stan, the titular soldier. All six episodes were produced and directed by Emmy winner Kari Skogland (“The Handmaid’s Tale,” “The Loudest Voice”). The series, for which combined Super Bowl TV spot and trailer viewership earned a record-breaking 125 million views this year, is reported to have cost $150 million in total.

For Mackie, though, the show comes at a critical time for both his career and for representation in the MCU. Sam Wilson is graduating from handy wingman (Falcon literally gets his job done with the use of mechanical wings), having been handed the Captain America shield by Evans in the last “Avengers” film. While it’s unclear if he will formally don the superhero’s star-spangled uniform moving forward (as the character did in a 2015 comic series), global fandoms and the overall industry are still reeling from the loss of Chadwick Boseman, who portrayed Marvel’s Black Panther to culture-defining effect. With this new story, Mackie will become the most visible African American hero in the franchise. And when asked whether he’ll be taking the mantle of one of its most iconic characters, he doesn’t exactly say no.

“I was really surprised and affected by the idea of possibly getting the shield and becoming Captain America. I’ve been in this business a long time, and I did it the way they said you’re supposed to do it. I didn’t go to L.A. and say, ‘Make me famous.’ I went to theater school, did Off Broadway, did indie movies and worked my way through the ranks. It took a long time for this shit to manifest itself the way it has, and I’m extremely happy about that,” Mackie says.

Feige says that, especially with the advent of Disney Plus and the freedom afforded long-form storytelling, the moment was right to give the Falcon his due.

“Suddenly, what had been a classic passing of the torch from one hero to another at the end of ‘Endgame’ became an opening up of our potential to tell an entire story about that. What does it really mean for somebody to step into those shoes, and not just somebody but a Black man in the present day?” says Feige.

Like many comic book heroes, Mackie has an origin story marked by tragedy at a young age — specifically around the loss of a parental figure. The New Orleans native is the youngest of six children from a tight-knit middle-class family, whose trajectory was spun into chaos when his mother was stricken with a terminal illness.

“It was unexpected and very untimely. I was 15 when she was diagnosed with cancer, and a few months later, she was gone. She passed the day before my ninth-grade graduation,” Mackie recalls. “If my mom wouldn’t have passed away when I was so young, I wouldn’t be where I am today.”

Mackie had already gravitated toward the performing arts before the loss of his mother, having enrolled at the pre-professional school New Orleans Center for Creative Arts. Like many young people grappling with trauma, Mackie says he began to act out. A core group of teachers helped get him out of trouble. Ray Vrazel, still an instructor at the school, personally drove the student to a Houston-based audition for the University of North Carolina School of the Arts, where he was accepted for his senior year of high school.

“Everything I did, I did for my mama. The idea of leaving home at 17 to go away to school would have never been an option if she was still around. She was my best friend. Losing her gave me a kind of strength, and a desire to succeed,” Mackie says.

Succeed he did. Spending that formative year as a minor on a college campus helped Mackie find his “tribe,” a misfit crew of artists and performers, which propelled him to acceptance at New York’s prestigious Juilliard School in 1997. There he was part of the breakthrough class of students of color to be chosen for the notoriously selective drama program, which Mackie says was liberating given the institution’s track record.

“Our year was a huge transition. There were hardly any Asian people in the drama program, maybe one or two Black people and hardly any Black women. In our class, we had three black women, two black men, one Native American, one Asian female, out of 20 people. Ever since then, the classes have been wildly diverse,” says Mackie, whose fellow students included stage and film star Tracie Thoms and actor Lee Pace.

Following his training, Mackie launched a staggeringly versatile career. He has played Tupac Shakur and Martin Luther King Jr. to similar acclaim, a juicehead bodybuilder in “Pain & Gain” and a homeless gay teen in the Sundance player “Brother to Brother.” He has exhibited remarkable staying power in an industry that often pigeonholes actors and has a pockmarked soul when it comes to inclusion.

“I was drawn to Anthony because of his electrifying ability to combine intensity with sensitivity, courage with compassion, and all of it comes across as inevitable, as if it could be no other way,” says Kathryn Bigelow, who directed him in the 2009 best picture Oscar winner “The Hurt Locker.”

Samuel L. Jackson, whom Mackie calls a mentor and has played alongside in several films, says he has “an innate quality that first and foremost makes everyone want to cast him.” On a recent idle Netflix search, Jackson came across Mackie’s latest sci-fi film, “Outside the Wire,” and it triggered a memory of sitting in the audience for his performance in the 2010 Broadway production of Martin McDonagh’s play “A Behanding in Spokane.”

“Watching him onstage, I thought, he’s a very adroit actor capable of putting on many hats. He’s fearless and will try to be anybody. Then, on my TV, he’s playing a nanobyte soldier or some shit,” Jackson says.

Though always humble about getting the next job, pre-Marvel Mackie was rarely offered pole position.

“There were certain pegs. My first was ‘8 Mile.’ It was a monumental step at the beginning of my career,” Mackie says of the 2002 Curtis Hanson film that elevated rapper Eminem to multi-hyphenate stardom.

“After that it was ‘Half Nelson.�� It blew up Ryan Gosling, so I was there to ride the wave. Then ‘The Hurt Locker,’ and it blew up Jeremy Renner. It was the joke for a long time — if you’re a white dude and you want to get nominated for an Oscar, play opposite me. I bring the business for white dudes,” says Mackie.

He remembers the sensation “Hurt Locker” caused during its awards season. It was a moment he thought would change everything as he stood on the stage of the Dolby Theatre with the cast and filmmakers, having just sipped from George Clooney’s flask while Halle Berry radiated a few rows away.

“I thought I would be able to move forward in my career and not have to jostle and position myself for work. To get into rooms with certain people. I thought my work would speak for itself. I didn’t feel a huge shift,” he says, “but I 100% think that ‘The Hurt Locker’ is the reason I got ‘Captain America.’”

He’s referring to “Captain America: The Winter Soldier,” the 2014 Marvel film that was the first to be directed by Joe and Anthony Russo (the current title holders for the highest-grossing film of all time with “Avenges: Endgame”). Mackie says that blockbuster not only gave him his largest platform to date but changed expectations of superhero movies forever.

“It was the first of the espionage, Jason Bourne-esque action movies at Marvel. After that, the movies shifted and had different themes and were more in touch with the world we live in, more grounded,” he says.

Bolstered by the words of another mentor, Morgan Freeman, Mackie feels no bitterness about his path.

“We did ‘Million Dollar Baby’ together, and when we were shooting this movie, I got offered a play. When you do Off Broadway, it’s $425 a week. In New York, that’s really $75 per week. I got a movie offer at the same time, and it was buckets of money. Three Home Depot buckets of money were going to be dropped off at my door,” Mackie says. “The script was awful; the whole thing was slimy. I went to Morgan’s trailer and asked him what he would do. He took a second and said, ‘Do the play. When Hollywood wants you, they’ll come get you. And when they come get you, they’ll pay for it.’ That blew my mind, and I left him that day with such a massive amount of confidence. He’s been a huge influence on me.”

He used the currency of that first Russo Brothers film and five subsequent ones to do what many creators and performers in Hollywood have done in recent years to help balance the scales of profit and representation in content: make things on his own.

Last year, Mackie produced and starred in “The Banker” — what would be Apple Studios’ first foray into original streaming film distribution and the awards landscape — through his banner Make It With Gravy. The film follows the true story of America’s first Black bankers and the white frontman they deployed to acquire the institution, all while supporting Black-owned businesses and communities in the process. A late-breaking scandal over sexual misconduct accusations involving the real-life family members of the film’s subjects delayed the release, overshooting awards-season deadlines and entangling the fledgling producer.

“It was a good lesson, and gave me a new perspective on the world around us. It’s very important to me that the women by my side are treated equally. It was a valuable lesson learned. I was very humbled by my sisters, for once not being mean to me,” he says.

Mackie is in development on the film “Signal Hill,” about the early days of lawyer Johnnie Cochran and the theater he brought to courtrooms long before the O.J. Simpson trial, and is hoping to secure the life story of civil rights pioneer Claudette Colvin as a vehicle for his directorial debut. Raising four sons of his own now, Mackie wants his off-screen work to make them well-rounded men.

“Look at Robin Williams,” he says. “He used to be crass and funny, and then he had kids, and he started doing all these family-friendly movies. Same thing with Eddie Murphy. I’m trying to curate my children’s experience with the things that I’ll be producing, rather than starring in. That’s what is most important. They know my job is my job; they know who I am. I’ve given up the idea of them ever thinking that I’m cool,” he says.

Jokes about the call sheet are among many of Mackie’s filming quirks. Jackson says that sets are often littered with hidden cigar stubs, to be fired up between takes or after long days. Bigelow says his rapport with crew has led to nights where the “clock was ticking but it was impossible to regain composure enough to shoot.” But according to Evans, no Mackie-ism is more famous than the phrase he bellows whenever his directors cut a scene: “Cut the check!”

Evans says this “will be forever associated with Mackie. I find myself saying it on sets all the time. I love it. But I’ll never be able to say it as well as him.”

As the man handing Mackie his armor, Evan says the Falcon’s “role within the Marvel universe has answered the call to action time and time again. He’s proven his courage, loyalty and reliability over multiple films. Sam has given so much, and he’s also lost a lot too. He believes in something bigger than himself, and that type of humility is necessary to carry the shield.”

The question of Sam Wilson’s humanity will be explored at length in “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier,” what Mackie calls a deeper showcase for both himself and Stan and their characters. It was a prospect that at first confused and frightened him.

“I didn’t think we could do on the television what we’d been doing on the big screen. I didn’t want to be the face of the first Marvel franchise to fail. Like, ‘See? We cast the Black dude, and now this shit is awful.’ That was a huge fear of mine, and also a huge responsibility with playing a Marvel character,” Mackie says.

He was quickly assuaged by the level of depth in the scripts from head writer Malcolm Spellman (“Empire,” “Truth Be Told”), especially when it came to the nuances of Wilson — a Black American man with no powers beyond his badass wings.

“Sam Wilson as played by Mackie is different than a Thor or a Black Panther, because he’s not from another planet or a king from another country,” Feige says. “He’s an African American man. He’s got experience in the military and doing grief counseling with soldiers who have PTSD. But where did he grow up? Who is his family? Mackie was excited to dig into it as this man, this Black man in particular, in the Marvel version of the world outside our window.”

Mackie celebrates Sam’s relatability in a universe full of mythological gods and lab-made enforcers. “I’m basically the eyes and ears of the audience, if you were put in that position where you could go out and fight alongside superheroes. It adds a really nice quality to him, that he’s a regular guy who can go out there and do special things,” Mackie says.

While bound by standard Marvel-grade secrecy, the actor confirms there have been no discussions of a second season for “The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.” As the majority of domestic movie theaters remain closed due to the coronavirus pandemic, he is equally unaware of the theatrical prospects for his Falcon character — or the Captain he may become by the end of this Disney Plus run. For now, he’s content to take up the mantle left by Boseman, a quietly understood pact of responsibility to Marvel-loving kids the world over.

“For Chad and I, [representation] was never a conversation that needed to be had because of our backgrounds. There was a hinted-at understanding between the two of us, because we’re both from humble beginnings in the South; we have very similar backgrounds. We knew what the game was. We knew going into it,” he says.

Outside comic book movies, Mackie is not done searching as a performer. There is a particular genre he would very much like to cut him a check.

“My team gets mad at me for saying this, but I would love to do a cheesy old-school ‘When Harry Met Sally’-type of project,” he says. “One of those movies where I’m working outside and have to take my shirt off because it’s too hot. I want a romantic comedy. I want to do every movie written for Matthew McConaughey that he passed on.”

[ofdragonsdeep]

25: Silver Lining

A friendship of a scant few moons, a vigil of centuries. Neither was something made to be borne alone.

(ShB spoilers up to 5.3)

In the cool, clear light of the day, Ar’telan sat on the steps outside the Crystal Tower, his back against the cold and uninviting door. The power about the building hummed through every inch of it, and the wards around it buzzed whenever he moved, reminding him that he had come as far as he might.

Victory tasted bitter, as it often did. The long road was lined with those he had not been able to save, all of the people who had looked to him - their hero, their Warrior of Light. He hadn’t wanted it. Hadn’t wanted any of it. But they looked to him still, and again and again he failed them.

Raha…

He would have known that saying something would have driven all of them to stop him. What had he felt, as the great doors closed one final time? To know that when he woke again, all of those he knew and loved would be gone?

If nothing else, he could be sure they would remember him fondly.

—

“Gil for your thoughts?”

Ar’telan blinked, roused from his vigil of staring at the fire in front of him by the sound. On the opposite side of the fire pit, G’raha knelt, watching him with playful curiosity in his two-tone eyes.

“I am not sure my thoughts are worth the price,” Ar’telan said, and G’raha chuckled, easing himself down into a more comfortable position and tracing one finger through the dirt.

“Make it two, then. You’ve an awfully long face for a hero,” he said, and Ar’telan sighed, shaking his head.

“It’s nothing,” he dismissed. “Personal troubles, nothing more.” His eyes followed the motions of G’raha’s fingers, movements which had at first seemed random instead tracing out arcane sigils of minor power. “Not the heroic deeds you want to write about, I think.” G’raha shrugged, the smile soft on his face.

“If you only record the grand gestures, you say little of real history,” he said. “And I am not interested for selfish reasons. We are colleagues, are we not?” His ears flicked happily at the thought of it, and Ar’telan hid a laugh behind his hand. “A burden shared is a burden halved. Tell me your woes, and they might ease.” Ar’telan shook his head, shifting his position to stop his legs from falling into numbness.

“I would rather keep these burdens, I am afraid,” he replied. “But a distraction would be welcome. The sigils - they are arcanima, but I don’t recognise them from my studies. Would you tell me of them?” G’raha seized on the opportunity, delighted that someone had recognised them at all. He told Ar’telan of his studies with the Students of Baldesion, the odd, old magics of Allag that he had learned despite his weapon of choice being an entirely unremarkable bow. Ar’telan drew the symbols in his grimoire, Lily manifesting at his aether-imbued brush strokes to watch his work. And for a little while, he felt better.

—

The string of the bow bent back, wood creaking with the strain placed upon it. A moment of stillness, then with a thunk of releasing pressure and the whistle of arrow through the air, the projectile found its mark.

It was the fourth such arrow to land in the bullseye, and the second that Ar’telan had watched G’raha fire. He had thought about interrupting him, but the focus on his face was intense, and Ar’telan did not have the support of sentences to break through the concentration.

With a mournful sigh on his lips, G’raha lowered the bow. Rubbing the back of his hand against his forehead, he turned around, and jumped near out of his skin when he saw his quiet observer.

“Ar’telan! How long have you been there?” he demanded, accusatory from his voice but embarrassed from his pose. Ar’telan offered a smile.

“Two arrows,” he said. G’raha looked at the scene around him - a half-quiver full of arrows precisely fired to rows of targets - and drooped.

“Well. It is nice to see you, too,” he said, hopping over the rope barrier and pulling an arrow from the stump with a quick and precise tug of his hand. “You could have said something.”

“I was afraid that you might shoot me if I touched you,” Ar’telan replied, and G’raha pouted.

“Fine. Well, now that you are done thoroughly embarrassing me, how do you fare? I hope it was not an important task which took you to my side,” he said. Ar’telan shook his head, crossing the distance of the archery range to assist G’raha with his clean-up task. G’raha made the motion look easy, but with a little work Ar’telan succeeded in working one arrow free.

“I just wanted to check on you,” he said, molding the words around the arrow in his grasp. G’raha walked over, plucking it from his fingers and returning it to its rightful place in his quiver. “After meeting Unei and Doga, you have seemed…” Ar’telan cast his eyes to the targets, the myriad holes that peppered them speaking to how often the historian had come out to train. “Unsettled.”

“Must people always ask after me?” G’raha lamented. In response, Ar’telan reached into his pockets, took out two gil, and dropped them into his confused hands.

“For your thoughts,” Ar’telan clarified, and G’raha laughed in bemused understanding.

“Alright, alright. I yield,” he said, passing the gil back to Ar’telan and returning his bow to its place on his back. “I fear I have no words for it, though. There’s just… a strange sensation in my gut, gnawing at me like a forgotten task.” He cast his gaze up to the Crystal Tower, looming in the backdrop of the camp like an ill omen. “But no matter how I try, I cannot remember it. And I… I am afraid it is not mine to remember.” He rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, not meeting Ar’telan’s eyes. “Is that strange? It is hard to put it into words.” Ar’telan shook his head.

“I don’t think so. Everything we have learned about the Tower, about Allag, has been… heavy,” he replied. “And even if you do not yet know what burden you carry, we know that it will be a burden still. It is not wrong to dread the pressure of a duty that should never have been yours.” G’raha blinked, surprised at getting so many words at once from the normally reticent Warrior of Light.

“I suppose so,” he allowed. “My father told me that the truth of our eyes lies with Allag. But everything we find…” He shook his head. “I have spent my whole life trying to learn the truth, and now it is within reach, I am afraid to grasp it. But I cannot back away. Not now.”

“You do not search alone,” Ar’telan told him, pausing to touch a reassuring hand to G’raha’s arm. “Not just me, but all of those in NOAH walk beside you. The eye is yours alone, but the weight of it need not be.” G’raha smiled at him, seeming a little more at ease.

“You are right, of course,” he said, shaking his head in exasperation at his actions. “It would seem you have the best of me again. I must apologise for my conduct.” Ar’telan shook his head in disagreement, his eyes going back to the lake and the vast, tangled crystals that rose from it.

“If it were easy, we would not need the help.”

—

With a sigh, Ar’telan pushed himself from the floor, the hum of energy at his back his only accompaniment. He put a hand against the great crystal door, eyes on the gold inlay. Those of royal blood…

When you wake, Raha, I hope those you find are worthy of your care. Your sacrifice.

But time would march on for them, and the world would not wait for his grief, agony at the grave of someone who had not yet died.

—

It had taken every ounce of restraint in his body not to sprint for the tower as soon as the rift had opened and he had stepped out into the darkness of the Syrcus trench. His cargo of vessels, brimming with precious life, sang out from within the confines of his robes. The wait would be a little longer.

He had left almost all of them with Krile. Told her how they would work, left her and Tataru to oversee them as they delivered their contents back to those who had lost them, and took off at a run.

Time did not often take him out across the flats of Mor Dhona, not in recent times. The same aether-warped cobras stalked the shores of the lake, ignoring the passage of one who could have cut them down without a second thought. The gigas had long since retreated into the mountains. The leftover aether still crackled around the Eight Sentinels, the yawning, empty void of the Labyrinth beckoning him across it.

He reached the door. It still sang and hummed with power, standing in solid defiance to him. With the crystal of Azem in one hand and the final vessel in the other, he prayed for it to open.

The hiss of aether and the rumble of crystal on stone was all-encompassing, drowning out the ambient sound as it creaked its way inexorably open. Ar’telan stepped through the ingress, the crystal lamps lighting up in welcome of their monarch.

His steps took him through the familiar route to the Ocular, though it served no such purpose on the Source. In the centre, shimmering in frozen time, G’raha’s body. Swallowing back nerves, Ar’telan held out the vessel.

Wake up, G’raha Tia. ‘Tis no time for sleeping.

[stellarcanopy]

Magia Record - Doppel encyclopedia translations (Arc 1)

Since my original witch encyclopedia post has become very long, I’ve decided to split up the Doppels into their own dedicated posts. This is the post for Arc 1′s main cast.

-Doppels for OG series and spinoff characters -Doppels for the majority of the supporting cast -Doppels for characters related to Arc 2 -Enemy encyclopedia for Arc 2 -Enemies & Doppels for post-Arc 2

(note: spoilers for all of Arc 1, as usual!)

A Doppel Witch is a partial manifestation of a Puella Magi’s witch form. They appear exclusively in Kamihama City, where they can be summoned once their respective Puella Magi’s Soul Gem has reached critical levels of impurity. Summoning a Doppel will vent all the impurity out of the Gem, leaving it completely clean afterward. (Though not outright stated in the story, notes from Gekidan Inu Curry’s design documents at the 2018 Shaft art exhibit mention that overuse of one’s Doppel does have emotional side effects.)

The cause of the Doppel phenomenon is unknown, but the Wings of Magius are most likely involved. They plan to liberate all Puella Magi in the world by expanding the phenomenon worldwide, via the maturation of something called “Embryo Eve.”

*Interesting tidbit: a Doppel’s keywords (“Doppel of X, form is Y”) are usually the inverse of its respective witch (“witch of Y, nature is X”).

GIOVANNA (Master: Iroha Tamaki)

The Doppel of silence. Its form is a calling bird. The master of this emotion is aware of her Doppel’s pitiful form, but is unable to view it directly. This Doppel speaks of nothing; it wraps everything that it doesn’t want to hear in cloth, and squeezes it to pieces. It is forever searching for something that can fill the empty hole in its chest. Despite how desperately it needed to call out for someone, this cowardly Doppel is afraid to take a direct look at the reality that it hid away with cloth, and its ears remain covered in silence.

GIOVANNA (Master: Iroha Tamaki (swimsuit ver.))

The Doppel of silence. Its form is a calling bird. While still searching for her lost sister, the master of this emotion is also slowly progressing on her journey to accept herself. Combined with how her heart has leapt in the glow of the summer sun, her Doppel has thus taken on a somewhat frivolous appearance. One can see how the Doppel’s robes and mast have been affected by her mood; really, one may even go so far as to say it’s being heavily swayed by its master’s spur-of-the-moment emotional state. A surface-level change, in short. Though it’s specialized for ocean battles, its master herself can’t swim, preventing it from making particularly nimble movements. It simply attempts to slay the enemies before it with an intense attack, using all the power it has available.

GIOVANNA (Master: Iroha Tamaki (Anime ver.))

The Doppel of silence. Its form is a calling bird. The master of this emotion is aware of her Doppel’s pitiful form, but is unable to view it directly. This Doppel speaks of nothing; it wraps everything that it doesn’t want to hear in cloth, and squeezes it to pieces. It is forever searching for something that can fill the empty hole in its chest. Despite how desperately it needed to call out for someone, this cowardly Doppel is afraid to take a direct look at the reality that it hid away with cloth, and its ears remain covered in silence.

CAMPANELLA (Master: Yachiyo Nanami)

The Doppel of ticket-taking. Its form is a ticket puncher. The master of this emotion dreams of the day when she, too, will depart on a journey, following in the footsteps of the friends whose departures she has already seen off. This Doppel can summon various illusions with the light of the lantern hanging from its tail, and those injured by its tail’s pincer are said to be guaranteed great misfortune in the near future. Because the range of emotional fluctuation is reduced in older individuals and in those who have lived as Puella Magi for a long time, those individuals’ Doppels may fail to completely separate from the master’s body, as is the case here.

CAMPANELLA (Master: Yachiyo Nanami (Tanabata ver.))

The Doppel of ticket-taking. Its form is a ticket puncher. The master of this emotion stands on the bank of the Heavenly River, unable to cross it until her life runs out, and gazes across to see the shadows of friends whose departures she once saw off. Her Doppel, believing itself to have received the role of a Tanabata magpie, attempts to help its master as she searches for her old friends' visages. It uses the lantern on its tail to illuminate the starry river, projecting it in vivid detail. But because this Doppel lacks the power to actually aid in their reunion, it can only fly to and fro through the heavens while holding on to a wish that's impossible to grant.

CAMPANELLA (Master: Yachiyo Nanami (Fairytale ver.))

The Doppel of ticket-taking. Its form is a ticket puncher. By accepting the fictional character she once performed as a part of herself, the master of this emotion has come to avert her eyes from the wishes that well up in her heart, continually freezing them in order to remain a strong and stalwart figure. As the only one to have realized this, her Doppel attempts to reduce its master's burden by spraying chilly air at everyone around her. It hopes to force them to stand up and face hardship by doing so, but it can't possibly match the speed at which its master freezes her heart.

CAMPANELLA (Master: Yachiyo Nanami (Anime ver.))

The Doppel of ticket-taking. Its form is a ticket puncher. The master of this emotion dreams of the day when she, too, will depart on a journey, following in the footsteps of the friends whose departures she has already seen off, and has long awaited the moment when her ticket will finally be punched. Those who are injured by the pincer on the end of this Doppel's tail are apparently guaranteed great misfortune in the near future. Its master often attempts to point the pincer towards herself, but has never succeeded in doing so. Because the range of emotional fluctuation is reduced in older individuals and in those who have lived as Puella Magi for a long time, those individuals’ Doppels may fail to completely separate from the master’s body, as is the case here.

YU HONG (Master: Tsuruno Yui)

The Doppel of domestic harmony. Its form is Jinhua ham. The master of this emotion is quite dissatisfied with her Doppel's appearance. Its character, too, is another source of distrust for her. In contrast to its master's desire to achieve great success through her own efforts, this Doppel simply produces endless wealth to satisfy the greed of its master's relatives, attempting to protect what is only a temporary family harmony. This Doppel's master considers it to be in total opposition to her noble goal, and would rather not have anybody find out about its vulgar appearance. However, to protect her family's harmony-- however temporary it may be-- she may very well find herself in need of this Doppel's power some day.

YU HONG (Master: Rumor Tsuruno)

The Doppel of domestic harmony. Its form is Jinhua ham. “My, have you heard? Who’d you hear it from? The Doppel of Harmony, and the rumor thereof! It’s a cute widdle piggy that got as big as a balloon, and grants every desire of its master’s relatives! Its luxurious, sparkling body is a symbol of great wealth, protecting its family’s harmony day in and day out! But its master’s far from thrilled about it. She’s totally grumpy about how it looks. She’d rather keep this embarrassing thing far from anyone’s view. It’s a rumor that EVERYONE in Kamihama is talking about! Nooo, look awaaay!”

THERESIA (Master: Sana Futaba)

The Doppel of invisibility. Its form is an inquisition chair. The master of this emotion is pained at the sight of its materialized form, but feels some sense of fulfillment as well. This Doppel’s main body isn’t the chair, but rather an invisible form that sits above the chair in a continual state of torment. The invisible Doppel uses the blood flowing from itself to attack its enemies. However, this Doppel also proves rather difficult to control. Apart from the invisible Doppel that’s normally created from its master’s left ear, a visible one may sometimes appear from her right ear instead. In these cases, the Doppel will make no distinction between enemy and ally, wildly swinging its pendulum guillotine in a violent, shrieking rampage.

BEATRICE (Master: Felicia Mitsuki)

The Doppel of mixture. Its form is an eyelid. The master of this emotion falls into a deep sleep when this Doppel appears, and doesn’t lay eyes upon anything it learns. While its master is asleep, her Doppel cries tears of mud from its vacant eye, covering up and re-painting everything inconvenient to her. This Doppel is likely to awaken when its master requires the power to smash reality to pieces.

BEATRICE (Master: Felicia-chan)

The Doppel of mixture. Its form is butter. The master of this emotion falls into a deep sleep when this Doppel appears, and doesn’t lay eyes upon any of the manufacturing methods that it learns. While its master is asleep, her Doppel sprays cow’s milk from its vacant eye onto a bed of rock salt, and vigorously mixes it. The resulting butter adds a dash of saltiness and rich flavor to any dish, and pairs best with baked potato. If you haven’t been having much luck making buttered potato at home, perhaps it’s because you’re using unsalted butter? *(Also, the sign on it says “Do Not Disturb.”)

HEVELIUS (Master: Mifuyu Azusa)

The Doppel of livelihood. Its form is a bird-catcher. Because the master of this emotion lives in reality, she'll take advantage of any power she can, including this physical-fusion-type Doppel. It can summon countless bird-like minions called "Sugar Geese" from its own shadow on the ground, and attack enemies with them. Any target that the Sugar Geese collide with will feel a sweet-tasting sensation, and even a single taste of this flavor will bring symptoms of addiction with it. Thanks to this trait, hitting an opponent with even a scant few geese can get them to permit a great deal of falsehoods. Since the Doppel transforms from its master's tongue and arms, she can't talk while she has it active.

HEVELIUS (Master: Mifuyu Azusa (Fairytale ver.))

The Doppel of livelihood. Its form is a bird-catcher. By accepting the fictional character she once performed as a part of herself, the master of this emotion has become convinced that she is a descendant of a tyrannical bloodline that brings destruction to those around her. Her Doppel thus sets fire to itself and burns away all that it touches, in order to satisfy its master by bringing reality closer to that fiction. However, burning away only reality is no easy feat. Once its flames have run their course, not even imagination remains.

OLD DOROTHY (Master: Alina Gray)

The Doppel of fever. Its form is a paint tube. The master of this emotion is fascinated by her own Doppel's beauty, but she still doesn't know about its hidden true form. The Doppel's actual body is behind its master's back. It oozes a paint called "Pathogen Tempera," which it then congeals and uses to form a massive false body with which to attack the opponent. Since its master's human body is buried in the paint and completely obscured from view, it boasts a presence that's more like a witch than a Doppel. The master can't see what her Doppel looks like from the outside, but according to her, it looks beautiful from the inside too.

OLD DOROTHY (Master: Holy Alina)

The Doppel of fever. Its form is a piping bag. The master of this emotion believes that the artwork she desires is also what humanity desires on a deep, unconscious level, and is gathering energy to make that artwork a reality. Having realized that the beauty of personal emotional expression is the fundamental artistic motif of humanity, her resulting joy has also affected her Doppel's form. In addition to embodying her festive cheer, even the Pathogen Tempera it pipes out now shines in a wide range of colors. That said, though, the pain and suffering that it gives and receives are exactly the same. The agonized screams of those it devours shall surely sound like beautiful hymns to its master's ears.

CENDRILLON (Master: Rena Minami)

The Doppel of transformation. Its form is a glass slipper. The master of this emotion wields every last bit of its power for her own sake. This Doppel multiplies its master’s transformation powers many times over. This allows her to temporarily change into not just another person, but that person’s ideal form, more realistic than the real thing. However, if she makes frequent use of this too-perfect transformation, she may eventually lose sight of her original self. Also, since this Doppel changes its master into her ideal image of a given person, she may sometimes appear quite different from the original person in question.

CENDRILLON (Master: Rena-chan (idol ver.))

The Doppel of transformation. Its form is a flying kick. The master of this emotion wields every last bit of its power for her own sake. This Doppel multiplies its master’s kick strength many times over. This allows it to forcibly shove her deep into enemy territory, which will (hopefully) transform her into the battle’s victor. However, if she makes frequent use of this too-powerful kick, she may eventually lose her original skeletal structure. Also, the bomb its master tosses is one of her own belongings. *(Also also: the sign on it says “Return by Midnight.”)

ELFRIEDE (Master: Momoko Togame)

The Doppel of self-reproach. Its form is manicured nails. The master of this emotion doesn’t seem to have much interest in where its power ends up leading to. This Doppel attacks with its giant fingers, as well as the countless fingers flying around it. The fingernails that serve as its weapons are all finely painted and manicured, and the Doppel is excessively concerned with their upkeep. If praised, it will do a fine job, but if scorned, it will reproach itself and become extremely depressed. It’s a huge nuisance when this happens, so it’s best to have the Doppel attack quickly after summoning it.

ELFRIEDE (Master: Momoko Togame (sister ver.))

The Doppel of self-reproach. Its form is manicured nails. The master of this emotion thinks that she needs to keep an eye on her Doppel so that it doesn't fly off somewhere, due to its excess of Halloween cheer. This Doppel wants to show off its costume-adorned master to everyone, but since its master is constantly keeping an eye on it, it reproaches itself and tries to keep a low profile. When its master is in trouble, it tries to use its colorful nails to hide and shelter her within its pumpkin, but since it gets distracted by all the Halloween commotion, none of its attempts have been very successful.

ZOLA (Master: Kaede Akino)

The Doppel of territory-taking. Its form is a plot of land. The master of this emotion fears that her living space will be eroded by this Doppel, and makes sure to carefully choose when and where to summon it. This is because regardless of its master's intentions, the Doppel will cover its surroundings in rotting moss as soon as it appears, claim the area as its own territory, and thereafter seek only to expand said territory. If it were summoned in the wrong place, even its master's most beloved places would be consumed by rotting moss, and would surely be unable to maintain their original form. This Doppel can exercise absolutely tremendous power within the confines of its territory.

CATACOMBE (Master: Kanagi Izumi)

The Doppel of dismantlement. Its form is a soot lion. In contrast to the calm shown by the master of this emotion, her Doppel takes the form of a lion that burns with inexhaustible rage, and bites everything to ribbons. It refuses to forgive even the slightest injustice, and dismantles any unfairness in sight. Its personality is utterly relentless. In particular, simply being a Kamihama resident makes one a target for dismantlement, so its master must be cautious when summoning it to avoid harming her allies. If she continues to use this Doppel, she will gradually become unable to forgive even the most minuscule inequality. Its master finds its power hard to manage, but she half-agrees with the lion.

CATACOMBE (Master: Kanagi Izumi (vampire ver.))

The Doppel of dismantlement. Its form is a soot lion. The master of this emotion continually wanders in search of the answer to her mourning. In order to help its master find that answer, this Doppel takes the feelings towards death that are held by visitors lured in by Halloween merriment, and finely dismantles said feelings before serving them to its master. Breaking them down into small pieces makes them no easier to swallow, however, so its master is likely to get indigestion, and continue to distance herself from the answer. When the Doppel tires of dismantlement, it secretly uses the tip of its scythe to carve jack-o'-lanterns and so forth outside of its master's view.

TOTENTANZ (Master: Mitama Yakumo)

The Doppel of memento mori. Its form is flower petals. The master of this emotion attempts to bring ruin to everything, out of resentment for the environment in which she lives. This Doppel does not forget death, which comes equally to all things in creation. It covers everything with fluttering petals, and gracefully comes to escort away girls with its white gloves. Both it and its master have no way to attack directly, but its power, which exists alongside the demise of all things, is fearsome nonetheless. All magical energy covered by its flowers will wither away, leaving nothing behind. Should this Doppel's master continually seek its power, her left arm may eventually fuse with it completely.

TOTENTANZ (Master: Mitama Yakumo (formal wear ver.))

The Doppel of memento mori. Its form is an auspicious day. Despite resenting her environment, the master of this emotion is overjoyed by the fact that she can welcome in the new year with the friends that she has newly made. Her Doppel embodies that joy in the form of golden lilies and red-and-white curtains, and it expresses a warm welcome to those who draw near by enveloping them in the curtains and raining flower petals down upon them. However, all are forbidden from returning home early when the time comes to serve the New Year's meals, and its guests shall suffer the agonizing taste of an eternal turn-of-the-century.

DUM (Master: Tsukuyo Amane)

The Doppel of isolation. Its form is a terrarium. The master of this emotion, free from being bound by her own emotions or disposition, clings tightly to her other half as the one person who understands her. By using this Doppel, the two of them isolate themselves from everything except each other, and none of the changes in this world can affect them. Within this tiny half-planet, they only have need for each other. The use of this Doppel shuts out all physical phenomena and the passage of time, guaranteeing one's personal safety, but as a side effect, the memories of anyone other than the two of them will fade away.

DEE (Master: Tsukasa Amane)

The Doppel of disconnection. Its form is an aquarium. The master of this emotion, free from being bound by her own environment or circumstances, drowns in affection for her other half as the one person who understands her. By using this Doppel, the two of them cut themselves off from all connections except theirs. As long as they stay within this tiny half-planet, they each only believe in what the other can sense; outsiders will never get through to them, no matter how many opinions one expresses or how overbearing an attitude one takes. The use of this Doppel shuts out the diverse values held by others, thereby stabilizing one's mind, but as a side effect, their hold on society's ethics will dwindle as well.

DUM DEE (Master: Amane Sisters (swimsuit ver.))

The Doppel of insulation and disconnection. Its form is a herbarium. In the end, having chosen to forget about all of the darkness that each of them holds, the masters of this emotion now spend their time dreamily playing in their own tropical resort. This Doppel normally refines moonlight into magic power, but with its masters' hearts now captivated by the sun, it instead refines sunlight into power, and leaps to and fro in the cheerful summer air. But don't be fooled! Its power leaps right over "troublesome," and straight into "horrific disaster." All those who touch it will be erased, transforming its surroundings into a pandemonic hell on Earth. Additionally, this Doppel is completely incapable of sensing its surroundings, so its heart will remain unmoved no matter how bitterly one screams at it.

????? (Master: White (+ Black?) Feather)

A placeholder Doppel for the generic White Feather enemies (Dark-type pictured). This particular one stands in for Ikumi Makino and her Doppel during her appearance as a Feather in Chapter 9. Not available for player use at this time.

ICHIZO (Master: Kuroe)

The Doppel of escape. Its form is a nighthawk. Though the master of this emotion lamented her past and stopped in place once already, she has now found a light to follow, and doesn't stop trying to spread her wings and fly. As her Doppel continually sheds tears, it attempts to put its master at ease by limiting her movements with wings of heavy mud. It denies her attempts to both seek and soar in the sky, while constantly emphasizing the exact opposite path to her. Though it utilizes its wings to attack those who oppose its master, each and every swing is meant to indicate to its master that she can never reach the light, no matter what she does. After being completely eaten away by this Doppel, the only choice one has is to become a black star that stands motionless on the Earth's surface.

ICHIZO (Master: Kuroe (swimsuit ver.))

The Doppel of escape. Its form is a nighthawk. The master of this emotion runs to and fro, continually searching for a "fun summer vacation" that's fitting for her. Her ever-indecisive state of mind takes shape as this Doppel, with many fresh fruits incorporated into its form. In much the same way that the void in its master's heart remains unfilled by any of the summers she experiences, the incongruous residue of those countless summers floats within the Doppel. Their sugar content skyrockets in correspondence with how much she was looking forward to them. The frankly-exhausted Doppel tearfully attempts to convince its master to give up on finding a fun summer, but if she still insists on continuing her search, it's considering teaching her a helpful lesson about her limitations by drowning her with its oceanic wings.

PENNEN NOLDE (Master: Touka Satomi)

The Doppel of daydreams. Its form is a match-seller. Even after becoming a Puella Magi, the master of this emotion desires yet more power, with which to accomplish yet greater wishes. This Doppel carries matches cut from its master's lifespan, and it's said that by striking and lighting these matches, it can grant any "what-if" imaginable. The number of remaining matches is tied to its master's lifespan, and using them all up will mean the end of her life. It's a very strong Doppel, but because it sacrifices its master's lifespan in much the same way as the Doppel of Last Testament, overuse of it is forbidden.

PENNEN NENEMU (Master: Nemu Hiiragi)

The Doppel of last testament. Its form is a deathwatch beetle. The master of this emotion offers up every remaining bit of her life. This Doppel can devour stories with the insect heads on both of its hands, then physically manifest said stories in this world. The absolutely ridiculous range of this power makes it a Doppel to truly be feared. The source of this Doppel's power is its master's already-short lifespan, and its power is said to grow stronger as its master's lifespan dwindles. However, since all of its power is directed towards the story-manifesting ability, it lacks direct offensive capabilities, and could hardly last a second if attacked by a witch.

And finally, after the conclusion of Arc 1...

SHITORI EGUMO (Master: Ui Tamaki)

The Doppel of suffering. Its form is a happy statue. The master of this emotion shares all pain suffered by the ones she loves, and takes it unto herself as her own. The pain is then changed into gemstones, and the Doppel’s power increases in tandem with the number of gemstones adorning it. However, it cannot move, and therefore cannot evade any attacks. It carries a sword and shield, but they are purely decorative, and are no use as weapons.

As well as!!

SHITORI EGUMO (Master: Iroha & Ui Tamaki (miko ver.))

She can turn into a kite!! Tragically she has no actual encyclopedia entry. Oh well

*Extra section: witches who’ve only received anime profiles thus far. (Neo Dorothy has appeared as a special event boss, and has files for her in-game encyclopedia entry, but AFAIK the entry hasn’t been implemented yet.)

ICHIZO “The witch of nighthawks. Her nature is to escape. An ugly hawk with wings of mud.”

NEO DOROTHY / Alina Eve (*nickname) “The form Alina Gray took after allowing her Doppel of Fever to devour her, while simultaneously taking over Embryo Eve's body via its infection. Even in this state, she's able to instantly spread the Doppel of Fever to about several dozen thousand people, thereby transforming them into artificial Magical Girls. Artificial Magical Girls become able to use magic regardless of age or gender, but much like the original Magical Girls, they must purify themselves with Grief Seeds to avoid being taken over by the Doppel of Fever and turning into witches. At a glance, it may seem like they're being forced to bear the fate of Magical Girls without even a wish as collateral, but according to Alina, "humanity's prosperity itself is the collateral," "being granted magic-- a power that's completely independent of physical ability or social standing-- is also collateral," "in the first place this is Art so there doesn't even really need to be collateral," and "free-of-charge magic distribution is GOD". Originally, Touka and Nemu were intending to complete their concept of the Doppel System by making Embryo Eve absorb the two of them, in addition to Walpurgisnacht.”

[isoisolated]

I have ADHD and it's not fun

29/12 edit: coming back to this post, I just wanted to add that at the time of writing, my adhd was unmedicated. Thought this might be good thing to note. 

My friend Ondrej kept sending me articles and texts posts written by other adhd people (mostly adult males) that it finally pushed me to write my own, because even though I could relate to some minor and major parts, something always felt a bit of and also because ADHD is a condition that's been heavily ignored by medical professionals not only in adults, but especially in adult women, which is a group I sort of represent myself. 

I could talk about this for ages, my therapist frequently tells me that I have this gift of intense self-analysis and immense passion to get it all sorted out once for all. I guess it's another way of saying I'm so hyperaware of my own existence and my brain simply latches onto it and constantly tries to solve its own problems. 

If you do not care about my own personal history, just skip to second headline.

I was clueless for the first 20 years of my existence

Now, ADHD isn't the only thing that's been making me feel almost alien, I dare to say that my puberty years were mostly about developing and internalising bit of trauma and processes that do no good in later life. 

I love music. And I mean I truly endlessly unconditionally love music. Being a daughter of music composer, I was 6 when I first asked my dad to show me where to press record in Logic Pro and told him to leave me alone while I recorded my first song. It was called Autumn is here and it sounded like something made by 6 years old. 

I remember we were attending castings for TV shows or commercials and later I was told that it was me who initiated such trips and that I always wanted to be a part of such things. I don't remember initiating such things but I remember for sure that I was very shy and uncomfortable when I was supposed to show off. 

I remember I was supposed to take piano lessons. And I was so baffled that I had to follow the book and play what's in the book, instead of playing thing I wanted. I think I told my parents after few lessons that I do not like it and was dropped outta it. This became a pattern, if I recall correctly. 

But that's nothing out of ordinary, kids are harder to get focused and entertained. I remember two moments from elementary school where I was told by my classmates that I'm acting like I have ADHD and it got me real mad every time, because in my head ADHD looked like not paying attention in class, being body hyper and overall just annoying. 

I could find a proof that I made myself first to-do list when I was 14. Since 14 I felt like I need more self control and self regulation, that I need to fit myself more into ambitions I had and have and in order to do that, I started making to-do lists with ambiguous tasks such as “work more on music” and “work-out”. It was also in during my great isolation era, I had no real life friends but one that I was seeing occasionally, I wasn't going out, I came from school on Friday afternoon and left my room on Monday morning. I was making friends online since I was 11 and lived mostly online. 

At that time I also started figuring out what was wrong with me. Since ever I always felt a bit “off” compared to my peers, I always felt weird (and was told that thousand of times in my life), I always felt like I was thinking about things a bit differently and my humour was different and my hobbies were seen obscure by my classmates (even though they weren't obscure at all). I felt alone for most of my growing up and feelings of complete loneliness and detachment haunt me to this day, making me spiral. 

I thought I might suffer from bipolar disorder, because I had high energy episodes and my emotions were so intense. I was crying almost everyday for both external and internal reasons, my head sometimes felt like too much and I found temporary peace in self-help books and esotericism. 

I was around 17-18 when I realised all of this is bullshit and that no book can make me do things that I wanna do. I'd spent hours, days and months thinking about doing things, being crippled by this weird force that hold my body down, unable to do anything, no matter how much I wanted it. I'd beat myself up for it, thinking I was just so damn lazy and stupid and pretentious. I wanna be a popstar, a successful musician, I have to do all these things and if not, I'm gonna fail so much and my life will lose its meaning. 

When I was 17, I released my first EP and for some reason, it found some attention and success, if we might call it that. Suddenly I felt on the right path, I was seen as a musician and also very young one. Even though I still was sad almost every day or had intense sadness episodes that could last for a week, it felt right and I couldn't wait to finish high school and become a full time musician. 

I'd produce music in unplanned episodes of total focus, where I would sit and do things for hours straight, without eating. My most favorite songs were made during 6-8 hour sessions and it felt amazing. I couldn't bring myself to produce music if I hadn't the right vibe or idea for it. 

It was around that time this woman texted me, saying she wants to be my manager and that she really likes my music. It felt so unreal but here I am, with my own professional manager, on my way to be the most amazing music person.

I'd crush on people (and mostly boys and men) constantly, it was also very episodic, could last for days to month where I'd had nothing on my mind but them, drowned in daydreaming and just imagining things and also letting them know all of that. It was magical but it was fleeting. It still is. But it is the greatest inspiration, where I feel so much emotions it makes me see things and then I can transform them into music. 

But there was still something wrong with me, I was very emotional, still struggling with making my routines work, I'd come up with new plans and schedules every week just to fail them the day after. It was exhausting and I saw nothing alike in my world too, I was alone and my experience was just not enough will power. 

I could get mad so easily, I'd clench my fists and was so close to punching someone and when I hated someone I hated them with immense passion and spent hours just imagining myself confronting them. I was so mad all the time on background too and even slightest thing would put me in classic rage mode.

I have problems remembering dates and names, I'm bad at remembering people's faces, I'm bad at learning things by myself even though I have interest in them. I'm bad at making routine for myself and actually following it.

I finished high school and planned to go study abroad but it turned out it isn't what I want so I came back and started looking for a job. Around that time I met my now best friend and thanks to him I actually started thinking even harder what might be wrong with me, so I looked up ADHD. And didn't believe that at all. I wasn't like this, was I? 

Then, the summer came and I met my friend (and also a fan) while being out for a beer. We chatted, had a great time and then told me I kinda am like a person with ADD. I was confused because I didn't recall what that does mean, later I remembered it's another (and outdated) term for ADHD, but it's the “quiet type”, where the hype happens mostly inside and doesn't manifest outside that much. So I started researching once again, because I trusted him and it was that one push I needed.

It's been year since that moment and it took me months to accept that I might suffer from ADHD and to this day I still have feelings of impostor syndrome, making it all harder for myself just like that, to be more interesting for myself. I still yet have to accept this. 

I was transitioning into adulthood and yet had actual emotional breakdowns, I was crying and my heart was aching and I couldn't bring myself to do things I want, to learn more about music production, to learn how to sing better, to learn my favorite k-pop choreos, to work-out, to embody my own vision of who I want to be. With music, I am my own boss and it's the worst.

Covid-19 hit our country and here came the first lockdown. It pushed me over the edge and I felt like I was losing all of my friends, I felt those feelings of loneliness and weirdness again, I felt like nobody knows what's wrong because I don't have it as bad as others, I was hurting so much my body was shaking and twisting. I decided to try medication, even though I told my psychiatrist I don't want to, I just felt like I cannot be like this anymore, it's too much pain and no matter how much I try, I can't make it better, I can't make it work. 

I started taking Strattera and after month or two, I saw it working. A bit, I could focus better and bring myself to do things more and more frequently, and if I had these weird emotional meltdowns, they weren't as intense as before. This serves me as ultimate proof that I am not making this up, because if I were, the medication wouldn't work and make me feel better, right? 

So, what am I doing now? 

I'm still a huge mess and I cannot see myself in a better light. Even though I have job that I perform at at stable rate, even though I have just a little problem cooking for myself, even though I have no troubles falling asleep, even though I can enjoy things greatly when those high energy waves hit me. 

I'm tired of myself, I'm tired of myself not being able to do anything again. I ignore my manager because I already know I have nothing else to say than “I cannot bring myself to do things and you know that, I'm sorry for being a constant failure.” When people compliment me, I thank them but deep inside I don't accept it. 

I have unreleased and WIP songs I can see never being released, ever. When I listen to music from my favorite artists, I can also feel the pain from the fact that I'm not like them and that I probably won't ever be, because my brain sabotages me every damn time. 

From the very moment I wake up to the very moment I fall asleep, there's music playing in my head. I don't choose what's playing, sometimes it's song I don't even like and yet it's stuck on loop. I talk with my therapist in my head, I'm having weird flashbacks in my head to my memories, I'm having “you should do X right now” and “why aren't you doing Y” stuck on loop too. This all is happening at once, every moment I'm awake, even when I'm talking with people. It's exhausting. 

I'm bored most of the time, I have interesting books in my bookshelf and still cannot read them because I have to reread paragraphs in order to actually understand them. And even then, I find my mind wandering again. I have problems with long texts and long tutorials.

I get frustrated easily, my head is overflowing with ideas I can't act on. I'm living in weird worlds I made up for myself, and then reality hits me. 

I had my first depressive episode few months ago. I felt like nothing matters, that I don't matter, I felt nothing and emptiness, I crawled up in bed and was mindlessly watching youtube videos. I didn't want to eat or drink, I wanted to not exist at all. That episode passed but it was my first encounter with actual depressive state and I know I can slip into it more easily now, it simply developed along the way, after 21 years without acknowledging that I have problems and I struggle. 

People don't understand the struggle, when talking to them about my problems, it's like talking to an automated assistant, coming up with phrases like “Did you try yoga?” “everyone struggles sometime” “you cannot accomplish everything”. They say they wanna listen and help until they don't. 

I have a mental graveyard for ideas I won't ever finish, no matter how good they are, because my brain won't let me. Proper medication would help, therapy also helps but I can't talk myself out of actual executive dysfunction. 

ADHD is a neurodevelopmental disorder, our brains are literally underdeveloped in some areas and wired differently. Our emotions lack regulation normal people have and our motivation is fragile. This can't be changed with yoga, this cannot be solved by trying more. Not to even mention, capitalist society is especially damaging to neurodivergent people (and not only them, of course). 

While on this journey, I am still meeting more and more people having same struggles like me, finding people who understand you is the best thing to battle impostor syndrome. Sometimes I can't help them and sometimes they can't help me, but it's okay, because we know we understand each other and if I wanna complain and vent, we can do so without having to explain this condition over and over. 

And I hope that someone finds this relatable too, because as a woman I know my group isn't represented enough. We are not children, nor adult males, we need more attention and more support, from both healthcare system and each other. 

While doing this, I hope to get myself proper medication and continue doing what I love the most - music. I don't love anything else more than that. I hope to get rid of “all or nothing” mindset, I hope to be more consistent, I hope my music will reach its listeners and fans. I still have enough time, I think, even though my sense of time is neurologically altered. 

[ouranimeyeah]

Sucker punches’ Ghost of Tsushima is one kick ass samurai game. Chock full of mongols, an enthralling plot, magnificent world building and a vibrant cast of characters! Whether it be the intense and badass lady Masako, to the boisterous sense ishikawa, each member of the central cast of the story have levels of intrugue and depth and are overall a joy to be around as you play as Jin. I’ve gone on record to say that when it comes to media, regardless of its form, it needs to do a good job selling me on why it should exist within the means by which it manifests. Tsushima is a video game that I believe could only work as a video game because it takes advantage of the very specific traits that make games unique. Each mission you go on playing as Jin you slowly get more of a sense of who he is. Building a stronger connection then anything I’ve felt in media in a long time. The antagonists in this game the mongols do exactly what an effective antagonistic foe should do and that is complicate the journey of our main character through the creation of situations with real stakes. Characters die in the game and it effects the player because you fear that after all this time developing a relationship with each and every person you run across you just don’t want to see them suffer. Overall this game manages to emotionally involve me in its story by utilizing its game mechanics and the fact that there are so many missions that all tie into the central narrative means that no moment in the game felt wasted. Loved the graphics as well, the level of detail was absolutely stunning. Going to give this game a 9.8/10

#ghostoftsushima #jinsakai #samurai #ninja #videogames

[northernstories]

African American Literature Suggestions from NMU English Department

The English Department at Northern Michigan University has prepared this list of several dozen suggested readings in African American literature, with some materials also addressing Native American history and culture. The first section contains books that will help provide a context for the Black Lives Matter movement. It includes books that will help readers examine their own privilege and act more effectively for the greater good. Following that list is another featuring many African American authors and books. This list is by no means comprehensive, but it does provide readers a place to start. Almost all of these books are readily available in bookstores and public and university libraries.

Northern Michigan University’s English Department offers at least one course on African American literature every semester, at least one course on Native American literature every semester, and at least one additional course on non-western world literatures every semester. Department faculty also incorporate diverse material in many other courses. For more information, contact the department at english@nmu.edu. Nonfiction, primarily addressing current events, along with some classic texts: Joni Adamson, Mei Mei Evans, and Rachel Stein, editors. The Environmental Justice Reader: Politics, Poetics, and Pedagogy. This classic collection of scholarly articles, essays, and interviews explores the links between social inequalities and unequal distribution of environmental risk. Attention is focused on the US context, but authors also consider global impacts. Michelle Alexander, The New Jim Crow: Mass Incarceration in the Age of Colorblindness. A clear-eyed explication of how mass incarceration has created a new racial caste system obscured by the ideology of color-blindness. Essential reading for understanding our criminal justice system in relation to the histories of slavery and segregation. Carol Anderson, White Rage: The Unspoken Truth of Our Racial Divide. A very well-written but disturbing and direct analysis of the history of structural and institutionalized racism in the United States. Gloria Anzaldua, Borderlands/La Frontera: The New Mestiza. Anzaldua writes about the complexity of life on multiple borders, both literal (the border between the US/Mexico) and conceptual (the borders among languages, sexual identity, and gender). Anzaldua also crosses generic borders, moving among essay, story, history, and poetry. James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time. A classic indictment of white supremacy expressed in a searing, prophetic voice that is, simply, unmatched. Ta-Nehisi Coates, Between the World and Me. A combination of personal narrative in the form of the author’s letter to his son, historical analysis, and contemporary reportage. Angela Davis, Are Prisons Obsolete? In this succinct and carefully researched book, Davis exposes the racist and sexist underpinnings of the American prison system. This is a must-read for folks new to conversations about prison (and police) abolition. Robin DiAngelo, What Does It Mean To Be White? The author facilitates white people unpacking their biases around race, privilege, and oppression through a variety of methods and extensive research. Ejeris Dixon and Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarshnha, editors. Beyond Survival: Strategies and Stories From the Transformative Justice Movement. The book attempts to solve problems of violence at a grassroots level in minority communities, without relying on punishment, incarceration, or policing. Frederick Douglass, Narrative of the Life of Frederick Douglass. The most well-known narrative written by one of the most well-known and accomplished enslaved persons in the United States. First published in 1845 when Douglass was approximately 28 years old. W.E.B. DuBois, The Souls of Black Folk. Collection of essays in which Dubois famously prophesied that “the problem of the twentieth century is the problem of the color line.” Henry Louis Gates, Stony the Road: Reconstruction, White Supremacy, and the Rise of Jim Crow. Must reading, a beautifully written, scholarly, and accessible discussion of American history from Reconstruction to the beginnings of the Jim Crow era. Saidiya Hartman, Lose your Mother: A Journey Along the Atlantic Slave Route. In an attempt to locate relatives in Ghana, the author journeyed along the route her ancestors would have taken as they became enslaved in the United States. bell hooks, Black Looks: Race and Representation. A collection of essays that analyze how white supremacy is systemically maintained through, among other activities, popular culture. Harriet Jacobs, Incidents in the Life of a Slave Girl. Narrative of a woman who escaped slavery by hiding in an attic for seven years. This book offers unique insights into the sexually predatory behavior of slave masters. Ibram X. Kendi, Stamped from the Beginning: The Definitive History of Racist Ideas in America. A detailed history not only of racist events in American history, but of the racist thinking that permitted and continues to permit these events. This excellent and readable book traces this thinking from the colonial period through the presidency of Barack Obama. Winona LaDuke, All Our Relations: Native Struggles for Land and Life Any of LaDuke's works belong on this list. This particular text explores the stories of several Indigenous communities as they struggle with environmental and cultural degradation. An incredible resource. Kiese Laymon, Heavy: An American Memoir. An intense book that questions American myths of individual success written by a man who is able to situate his own life within a much larger whole. Cherrie Moraga and Gloria Anzaldua, This Bridge Called My Back: Writings by Radical Women of Color This foundational text brings together work by writers, scholars, and activists such as Audre Lorde, Chrystos, Barbara Smith, Norma Alarcon, Nellie Wong, and many others. The book has been called a manifesto and a call to action and remains just as important and relevant as when it was published nearly 40 years ago. Toni Morrison, The Source of Self-Regard. An invaluable collection of essays and speeches from the only black woman to win a Nobel Prize in literature. Throughout her oeuvre, Morrison calls us to take "personal responsibility for alleviating social harm," an ethic she identified with Martin Luther King. Ersula J. Ore, Lynching: Violence, Rhetoric, and American Identity. Ore scrutinizes the history of lynching in America and contemporary manifestations of lynching, drawing upon the murder of Trayvon Martin and other contemporary manifestations of police brutality. Drawing upon newspapers, official records, and memoirs, as well as critical race theory, Ore outlines the connections between what was said and written, the material practices of lynching in the past, and the forms these rhetorics and practices assume now. Claudia Rankine, Citizen: An American Lyric. A description and discussion of racial aggression and micro-aggression in contemporary America. The book was selected for NMU’s Diversity Common Reader Program in 2016. Layla F. Saad, Me and White Supremacy. The author facilitates white people in unpacking their biases around race, privilege, and oppression, while also helping them understand key critical social justice terminology. Maya Schenwar, Joe Macaré, Alana Yu-lan Price, editors. Who do you Serve, Who Do You Protect? Police Violence and Resistance in the United States. The essays examine "police violence against black, brown, indigenous and other marginalized communities, miscarriages of justice, and failures of token accountability and reform measures." What are alternative measures to keep marginalized communities safe? Ozlem Sensoy and Robin DiAngelo, Is Everyone Really Equal? The authors, in very easy to read and engaging language, facilitate readers in understanding the ---isms (racism, sexism, ableism etc.) and how they intersect, helping readers see their positionality and how privilege and oppression work to perpetuate the status quo. Bryan Stevenson, Just Mercy: A Story of Justice and Redemption. An analysis of America’s criminal justice system by the lawyer who founded the Equal Justice Initiative. While upsetting, the book is also hopeful. Wendy S. Walters, Multiply / Divide: On the American Real and Surreal. In this collection of essays, Walters analyzes the racial psyche of several major American cities, emphasizing the ways bias can endanger entire communities. Booker T. Washington, Up from Slavery. Autobiography of the founder of Tuskegee Institute. Harriet Washington, Medical Apartheid. From the surgical experiments performed on enslaved black women to the contemporary recruitment of prison populations for medical research, Washington illuminates how American medicine has been--and continues to be shaped--by anti-black racism. Malcolm X, The Autobiography of Malcolm X. Autobiography of civil rights leader that traces his evolution as a thinker, speaker, and writer.

If you would like to enhance your knowledge of the rich tradition of African American literature, here are several of the most popular books and authors within that tradition, focused especially on the 20thand 21st centuries. Novels and Short Stories James Baldwin, Go Tell It on the Mountain James Baldwin, Giovanni’s Room Octavia Butler, Parable of the Sower Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man Langston Hughes, The Ways of White Folks Zora Neale Hurston, Their Eyes Were Watching God James Weldon Johnson, The Autobiography of an Ex-Colored Man Nella Larsen, Passing Nella Larsen, Quicksand Toni Morrison, The Bluest Eye Toni Morrison, Beloved Richard Wright, Native Son Drama Lorraine Hansberry, A Raisin in the Sun Ntozake Shange, For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf August Wilson, Fences August Wilson, The Piano Lesson Poetry A good place to begin is an anthology, The Vintage Book of African American Poetry, edited by Michael S. Harper and Anthony Walton. It includes work by poets from the 18th century to the present, including Gwendolyn Brooks, Lucille Clifton, Countee Cullen, Rita Dove, Robert Hayden, Langston Hughes, Yusef Komunyakaa, Claude McKay, Phillis Wheatley, and many others. Here are some more recent collections: Reginald Dwayne Betts, Felon Wanda Coleman, Wicked Enchantment: Selected Poems Honorée Fanonne Jeffers, The Age of Phillis Tyehimba Jess, Olio Jamaal May, The Big Book of Exit Strategies Danez Smith, Don’t Call Us Dead

[kasprzaks]

eddie kasprzak, reactionary extraordinaire

both   balloons   tethered   to   the   microfilm   recorder   now   read   ASTHMA   MEDICINE   GIVES   YOU  CANCER!   below   the   slogan   are   grinning   skulls. 

eddie’s characterisation flooding its way into the third person narrator in the book ESPECIALLY in eddie’s bad break is amazing and i’d die for it. his voice elsewhere in the book is very poetic and looks at things more conceptually than solidly, but the more of a grounding in this chapter while his head runs wild continues and tries to comprehend such a horrible conversation (specifically looking at his convo with mr keene in eddie’s bad break p2) succeeds so much to solidify him as a character outside of just what he says and does. i love it so here’s an entire collection that shows his reactions and the intensity he reaches as he buries himself in his brain in such a difficult situation and how it’s integrated into the prose in such a way we really feel like we’re living in his head despite the third person gap we have to cross to get there.

                 ‘Mr Keene,' he says, and his voice sounds distant to his own ears, without power. 'It was Mr Keene.'

                 'Not exactly the nicest man in Derry,' Mike says, but Eddie, lost in his thoughts, barely hears him.

... eddie always always has a whole thing of trying to be brave (and in this chapter he’s always saying something along the lines of what would big bill do?) but, in the process, manages to get so worked up he’s at a disconnect to what’s actually going on. as he starts to recall the memory with the rest of the losers 27 years later, he starts retreating into his own head because that’s simply how he is. he’s such a thinker that even the second he says it, he’s fading out. he barely hears him. this follows on as he recalls the memory and it’s contrary to the rest of the book where, normally, since we see eddie through someone else’s eyes (third person limited omniscient since the book is made up of multiple third person narrations), we only really see him being quiet as opposed to the actual physical disconnect we see when it is an eddie third person limited in complicated moments.

                 Mr Keene sat down in the swivel chair behind his desk and took one. Then he opened his drawer and took something out. He put it down next to the tall bottle of licorice whips and Eddie felt real alarm course through him. It was an aspirator. Mr Keene tilted back in his swivel chair until his head was almost touching the calendar on the wall behind him. The picture on the calendar showed more pills. It said SQUIBB. And —

                — and for one nightmare moment, when Mr Keene opened his mouth to speak, Eddie remembered what had happened in the shoe store when he was just a little kid, when his mother had screamed at him for putting his foot in the X-ray machine. For that one nightmare moment Eddie thought Mr Keene would say: 'Eddie, nine out of ten doctors agree that asthma medicine gives you cancer, just like the X-ray machines they used to have in the shoe stores. You've probably got it already. Just thought you ought to know.'

... he struggles to stay in the moment and this is just how he is his whole life. i’m gonna reference it chapter two for a second but the fact that his job in that version was a risk analyst? god send, they really hit the nail on the head for what they were trying to do in that interpretation there and i totally see how they got to it because risk analysing is just what he does. in this part where he sits down with mr keene, the convo hasn’t even begun. no one’s said a word and yet the second mr keene shows promise of saying anything, mr active imagination risk analyst eddie kasprzak has already thought up everything and dreamt himself into oblivion. scenarios exist without ever fully existing and in any given moment he’s already left reality and hopped onto another universe where the worst has just or will just happen.

                 Mr Keene wrapped a bunched, bony, liverspotted hand around the balloon and squeezed. The balloon bulged over and under his fist and Eddie winced, trying to get ready for the pop. Simultaneously he felt his breathing stop altogether. He leaned over the desk and grabbed for the aspirator on the blotter. His shoulder struck the heavy ice-cream-soda glass. It toppled off the desk and shattered on the floor like a bomb.

                 Eddie heard that only dimly. He was clawing the top off the aspirator, slamming the nozzle into his mouth, triggering it off. He took a tearing heaving breath, his thoughts a ratrun of panic as they always were at moments like this: Please Mommy I'm suffocating I can't BREATHE oh my dear God oh dear Jesus meekandmild I can't BREATHE phase I don't want to die don't want to die oh please —

                Then the fog from the aspirator condensed on the swollen walls of his throat and he could breathe again.

                'I'm sorry,' he said, nearly crying. 'I'm sorry about the glass . . . I'll clean it up and pay for it . . . just please don't tell my mother, okay? I'm sorry, Mr Keene, but I couldn't breathe —

... gets very caught up on one thing. he does this whole whole chapter. it goes on in the next quote here ...

                'Good,' Mr Keene said. 'We have an understanding. And you feel much better now, don't you?'

                Eddie nodded.

                'Why?'

                'Why? Well . . . because I had my medicine.' He looked at Mr Keene the way he looked at Mrs Casey in school when he had given an answer he wasn't quite sure of.

                'But you didn't have any medicine,' Mr Keene said. 'You had a placebo.A placebo, Eddie, is something that looks like medicine and tastes like medicine but isn't medicine. A placebo isn't medicine because it has no active ingredients. Or, if it is medicine, it's medicine of a very special sort. Head-medicine.' Mr Keene smiled. 'Do you understand that, Eddie? Head-medicine.'

                Eddie understood, all right; Mr Keene was telling him he was crazy. But through numb lips he said, 'No, I don't get you.'

... it’s hard to understand that this is the truth, let alone why he’s being told this. obviously eddie’s determined on the fact that he’s not crazy, but the main part up until this point i got caught up on was his continued disconnect and mostly passive not wanting to change at all attitude so he can get out of there. the numb lips and the references before to having his voice being distant, him constantly disappearing off into the tangents his head brings him on. there’s few and far between moments where he actually responds in between mr keene telling him what he’s telling him, and the prose between that is him thinking (panickingly thinking), filled with him trying to dream up other things and trying to ground himself in thinks he can compare the unfamiliar to. i especially love the cut in, in the first quote that sk puts through the whole book of another narration coming straight from eddie’s head. the stream of panic to really push it through.

                Eddie said: 'My medicine does so work.'

                'I know it does,' Mr Keene replied, and smiled a maddening complacent grownup's smile. 'It works on your chest because it works on your head. HydrOx, Eddie, is water with a dash of camphor thrown in to give it a medicine taste.'

                'No,' Eddie said. His breath had begun to whistle again.

                Mr Keene drank some of his soda, spooned some of the melting ice cream, and fastidiously wiped his chin with his handkerchief while Eddie used his aspirator again.

                'I want to go now,' Eddie said.

                'Let me finish, please.'

                'No! I want to go, you've got your money and I want to go!'                 ...                'I'm not crazy,' Eddie whispered, the words coming out in a bare husk.Mr Keene's chair creaked like a monstrous cricket. 'What?''I said I'm not crazy!' Eddie shouted. Then, immediately, a miserable blush rose into his face.

... the moment the panic finally takes over and becomes enough. strangely (thought it makes total sense when thinking about how internal eddie is versus when he’s finally had enough and gets pushed over the edge) he really does lash out. he’s immediately embarrassed that he’s done it, but he does do it. he switches from the passive life line carrying on in his brain he’s hoping will carry him out of the situation, and tries to get out of it before the emotional gets too much and really tries to put a stop to it. all in good time, too, because when eddie finally does leave ...

               Eddie's brain thudded and whirled. Oh, he felt sick, he felt very sick.                 ...                 He slipped it into his pocket and watched the traffic pass back and forth, headed up Main Street and down Up-Mile Hill. He tried not to think. The sun beat down on his head, blaringly hot. Each passing car threw bright darts of reflection into his eyes, and a headache was starting in his temples.

... emphasis on the sensory and the physical manifestations of his emotions. he feels so strongly and the physical ramifications comes as a result of his anxiety. his head aches, his ‘asthma’ is acting up. of course he takes his inhaler but a few moments later and ... 

              He looked fixedly at the aspirator, unaware of the old lady who glanced curiously at him as she passed on down the hill toward Main Street with her shopping basket over her arm. He felt betrayed. And for one moment he almost cast the plastic squeeze bottle into the gutter �� better yet, he thought, throw it down that sewer– grating. Sure! Why not? Let It have it down there in Its tunnels and dripping sewer-pipes. Have a pla–cee-bo, you hundred-faced creep! He uttered a wild laugh and came within an ace of doing it. But in the end, habit was simply too strong. He replaced the aspirator in his right front pants pocket and walked on, hardly hearing the occasional blare of a horn or the diesel drone of the Bassey Park bus as it passed him. He was likewise unaware of how close he was to discovering what being hurt — really hurt — was all about.

... this is straying away from the actual point of the post slightly, but, as it says, habit remains too strong. he’s a character that almost always returns to the ‘comfortable’, though familiar is actually a much better word for it. to return to the point of the post in regards to this, though this time the technique isn’t exclusive to eddie centric chapters, all of the losers get cut in moments of it, i especially love eddie’s thought process tied into this moment straight up verbatim. though it’s tragic that he doesn’t follow through and chuck the aspirator down the drain (though completely understandable too), this moment ties into everything else we see of the intricacies of eddie’s inner world and how it’s obviously a full one. he really does live up there. humouring any and all possibilities no matter how out there or terrible they may seem is something that he constantly does, it’s who he is. eddie lives in the hypothetical. i think this chapter really demonstrates that and lets eddie’s discomfort become so overwhelming that it’s so difficult to even pay attention to what’s going on which totally brings us into eddie’s psyche. concentrating is difficult when you could run upstairs and live there. it’s comfortable, it’s familiar, and it doesn’t really hurt as much as the real.

[yaldev]

Colours of Mana

Wise mystics and scholars of the ancient ways have long studied the forbidden subject of collectible card game lore, and they have pondered what these shadowy secrets reveal about ontology and metaphysics. Any of them can tell you, whether or not you even asked for their opinion, that there’s a clear relationship between the effects of magic spells and the colours of mana used to cast them.

Sorcery is a scientific art, but an art nonetheless. It is fluid and personal by necessity; the objective gaze is blind here. Every practitioner must find a unique path to mastery shaped by the endless complexities of their own experience, their own mind, their own body and soul. As outsiders to the craft looking in, magic appears to violate causality, creating an output from an insufficient input. But wizards are privy to a medium that we can scarcely comprehend: mana, magical energy, potentiality incarnate. An effective spellcaster must be a master of their own psychology, understanding the mental processes that bring them to concentration so intense that it tears the fabric of the Aether. From there, they need the right thought-patterns to direct the now-accessible mana to make real the change they seek.

Some mages execute their spells as efficiently as possible, manifesting mana from the Aether as a direct change in reality, never allowing the raw energy to linger in the physical realm. We see no swirling light or glowing lines following the wizard’s hands or showing off their enchantments. This approach is especially favoured by wizards of the Ascended Empire, who understand the perception of their craft as shortsighted and reckless, and compensate for the hazard by minimizing the time that mana—all-creative, all-destructive—spends in our world.

But others, rebellious against these norms or born into societies too ignorant to understand, draw mana into our realm and command it from here. This style requires less restraint and frequently packs extra power into certain spells, but it’s accompanied by distinctive visual patterns which attract unwanted attention and more obviously telegraph a spellcaster’s activities. Military factions have an interest in anticipating incoming spells based on the colour of mana their casters display, and once we’re trying to solve problems, we must take the step from artistry to analysis.

Aethereal engineering is an artful science, but a science nonetheless. It is methodological and rigid by necessity; the subjective gaze is overwhelmed here. The human mind has a tendency to be curious and seek out patterns, and in this field it has been rewarded: Aethereal engineers create magical devices that yield consistent results, bringing law to a chaotic force. They watch spells being cast the heretical way and notice the blooming greens of healing magic, the clean blue lines of divination, the surging pinks of emotional manipulation, and they resolve to find the significance behind the colours. Much coin has been sent isolating different colours of mana in special chambers, studying their properties, laying bare their nature.

This pursuit isn’t completely foolish. In its natural state, mana is nothing if not colourful. Crystal bugs feed on raw mana slurped directly from the Aether, filling their transparent bodies with rainbow patterns. Priests of the Empirical Truth speak of days when magic reigned supreme over the land, sending kaleidoscopic flashes through the sky. Given that spellcasting involves the narrowing of mana’s potential and a similar narrowing of its colour palette, it’s reasonable to draw a connection that certain colours are intrinsically connected to certain possibilities, and that we can map out the types of spells connected with each.

But noble as the goals may be, they consistently fall short. A team watches a group of spellcasters, records their observations, assembles a flawless theory on the nature of each colour, claims to understand the root cause of different forms of magic by sorting their “energy” in opposite sequence to what the wavelengths of light constituting their colours would suggest, ties it all together—and then a research team on another continent finds that local spellcasters harness mana of totally different colours for the exact same results, throwing the whole thing so amok that they all just throw in the towel and go study something more lucrative.

The truth is this: spellcasting is a subjective process. The bridge between mana and mind is the symbol, the efficient signifier of meaning and intent. Different traditions will teach different methods, assign different meditations and draw influence from different faiths, so it’s never been surprising that the sigils and signs used to cast the same spells can vary between regions. And yet it never seems to cross researchers’ minds that cultures don’t have the exact same connotations associated with each colour, which compels mages from different sides of the world to connect colours with different spells. It’s not the colour of mana that determines the spell a mage can cast. It’s how a mage casts a spell, the meaningful colours they bring to mind as part of their focus, that in turn colours the mana they wield. When the colour orange means love to one sorcerer and war to another, we shouldn’t be surprised to see two very different effects following a brilliant orange glow.

So, can you predict the nature of a spell by the colour of mana going into it? Well, how well do you know the colour symbolism of the caster’s culture? How well do you know the caster’s personal symbolism, which may differ from the norm? Does the caster even use the flashy style that lets you tell what colours they’re thinking of? Are you sure they’re not using another layer of illusion magic to alter the apparent colour of their mana? Short of absolute certainty, and maybe even then, you’re better off ducking just in case.

Yaldev is a fantasy/sci-fi worldbuilding project based on Beeple art. Through a combination of narratives, in-universe documents and stylized loredumps, it reveals the story of a planet in magical pandemonium, the nation which rose to conquer it, this empire’s inevitable collapse and the new world which emerged in its wake. The project has major themes about perspective, imperialism, nationalism, nature and the metaphysical battle of law against chaos. For all stories in chronological order, check out the pinned post on the subreddit at r/Yaldev!