#it was sad in more of a Cruel and Apathetic way in the cities but the prairies were still beautiful

[neonbuck]

train rides across the US Northeast have a sad kind of beauty. the mud and rust, the trees, the foggy harbors, lonely ponds with swans

[angelsndragons]

Day 1

Day 1 of the Caduceus Clay celebration week, folks, so you know what that means: I get to gush about my favorite character. I did warn y’all I would word vomit.

So, what does Caduceus mean to me? 

Well.

My brother lives in a separate state and has for several years now. We talked on the phone pretty much every day but we still missed each other a lot. One of the last things he did to me in person was introduce me to D&D. I loved it. It gave me a community away from home and a way to meet new people and form new friendships in new areas. I would tell him all about my weekly game shop adventures, he would tell me about the homebrew campaign he was in online. He also told me about this little show called Critical Role. I, like the dumb oldest sibling I can be, pretty much ignored it, outside letting him talk to me about it and engaging with it secondhand. Then, my brother’s party lost one of their players. They were down to four players and no full casters, just a gunslinger, a barbarian, a monk, and a non-healer warlock. Things started getting dicey. Like, really dicey. He worried with me over how close their fights were getting and how he felt it was only a matter of time until someone legit died and they couldn’t do anything about it. So, I asked, “Well, can you ask them if I could play? You’re looking for someone and we’re looking to try to do something together, it could work out.” Two years later, that campaign is going strong and (thankfully) no one has died yet.

I bring up this context because it matters: I rolled up a level 10 Grave Cleric. I had never played a cleric before but I had wanted to before my game shop sessions fell apart. And here I was, willingly thrown into the deep end of one of the most complex subclasses of one of the most complex classes in the game. And initially, I was not happy with it. Not just because there was a lot to learn but because of sheer mechanics. By rote, I could not keep up with the damage that the rest of my party was doing. At all. My high level spells weren’t doing much more damage than my freaking cantrips and I just felt stuck. I wanted to contribute outside of healing but really just couldn’t. I shared my frustrations with my brother, who, being the little troll he is, said, “Well, you know Critical Role has a Grave Cleric now, right?” So, to start this love fest, Caduceus taught me how to be a better cleric and because of that, I will never be able untangle the character from my relationship with my brother. Even if he died tomorrow or went evil or whatever, I would still be fond of him just for that.

I don’t remember which episode of campaign 2 I first watched all the way through. I know I started paying attention around Fjord’s chicken game and was fully on board with the series by Yasha’s loss in the pit fight. What I do remember is Caduceus. I remember being drawn in by this guy for some reason I still can’t articulate. 

Caduceus is a complex character who is difficult to fully understand and love. People have said unkind things about him, about how he is a glorified NPC or that he is boring or that there is just no ‘there’ there or that he should just go home already. I have seen people say that they think Taliesin should go back to the drawing board and come back with a ‘better’ character, one who vibes better with the group or something. And the sad thing is, I can kind of see where these people are coming from. Understanding Caduceus and what Taliesin is doing with him requires people to pay attention to him, to actively think about him both when he is and is not in the spotlight. And that is hard. Because Caduceus is that character who aggressively tries to divert attention from himself. So right away, we have this tension, this push/pull when it comes to engaging with him. And I do love me a challenge in my favorites. Also love the polite but judgmental assholes who have Opinions they would never say but nevertheless own.

For me, Caduceus’ arc has been about duty and desire, what duty means, how to prioritize yourself, and how to grow. Caduceus’ interrogation of identity as it relates to duty and his blossoming as a person fascinate me most. What is your duty, really? What does it mean to find balance in your life? How do you take down the walls you built to protect yourself? Where do you end and where does your duty begin? What does faith look like outside a strictly Western/Christian lens? Can we find ourselves in other people? What does it mean to grow beyond your wildest imagination and the people you love most?

Caduceus begins the show as a passive, apathetic shadow of a man who has cloaked those traits in duty in order to not deal with his feelings. He had basically grown up in a literal paradise on earth where the problems of the world couldn’t reach or affect him. Until they did. Until his family left. Until the Nein crashed into his temple. Caduceus makes the choice to basically leave paradise, at the Wildmother’s urging, sure, and experience the world in all its messy beauty and ugliness. It is nothing like he expected. It is hard, it is cruel, it tries to drown him at every opportunity. It is also good, the animals, the people, the experiences he has. Hearing Marion sing, learning of a lighthouse to the Wildmother (which he does not fully appreciate yet, this light in the dark storm). Caduceus spends his first chunk of episodes waking up, seeing life outside of paradise. I love these early episodes because they demonstrate just how far Caduceus has actually come (can’t imagine this guy buying an overly large pirate hat as a prank or helping the Traveler offload some followers through an elaborate ceremony, for example).

The crux of Caduceus’ midgame story right up until he saves his family is this: You’ve seen the world, young cleric, are you sure you want to continue to save it? You can go home and turn your back on all of this, what makes you stay in this imperfect world with these imperfect people? We see this a lot, in the questions he asks the Gentleman, in his insistence they save Yasha, in his newfound appreciation and companionship in Fjord, in making the Xhorhaus a home, in his dealings with the stone giants, in his determination to help Nott and her family. And this is the part that made me love him because Caduceus doesn’t shy away from these moments or tough questions. Like most of what he does, he contemplates them quietly and lets his actions speak for him. Caduceus allows himself to get involved, to become invested.

Caduceus’ new major arc is his realization that he is not just some vessel, some passive thing through which the Wildmother’s will will flow. No, he learns that he has to make choices, that he can affect change, and that if he wants this messy, beautiful world to get better, he is going to have to do something about it. Not just wait for Her to tell him it is okay. Taking ownership of his future and what that means to him have shaped Caduceus these last thirty or so episodes. Caduceus has blossomed so damn much. He continued with the Nein because he wanted to, and that led to the discovery of the Astral Sea City. (side note: Anyone want to take a gander what would be happening right now if Caduceus hadn’t been with them?) He not only felt his feelings towards the Nein, he began expressing them. From the man who refused to Scry or Send to his family to one who has a friend call up his sister and tell her he will be back, from the man who clung so tightly to his need to be useful to the Nein to one who openly declares how much he loves these people and how reluctant he is to leave them, from a man who wanted to save his home to one who is trying to save the whole damn world, from a man who couldn’t articulate his feelings if you threatened him to one who is trying so hard communicate, from a man who needed saving from his own apathy and grief to one who saves others, this is who Caduceus Clay has become and I for one am excited to see how the next 100 episodes influence him.

Also I cannot end this word vomit without mentioning the fact that Caduceus being aroace and so warm, loving, and caring is so damn important. Because it is; there are too many people out there who think aros/aces are loveless robots or fake or whatever. And having this person, this caregiver, this annoying little brother, this compassionate man, to hold up against that kind of hate, ignorance, and indifference means more than I will ever be able to express. 

[saintashes]

sad hour snuggles ( 0.5/2 )

( i haven’t fully completed this story yet, so i’m just gonna post half of it for now. what i’m planning to do is make two oneshots, this one and the kam pocky oneshot. enjoy half of my unproductive excuses - )

~~~

“ lately i’ve been thinking . . . i want you to be happier . surprising , i know . but i’ll do whatever i can to make sure that i can give you at least five minutes of euphoria . ”

---

Tam Song sat in a small but cozy chair in the corner of his empty room, away from the windows. He let out a terribly long sigh that sounded painful, continuing to stare up at the plain ceiling. He was seriously contemplating on rebelling against his parents and painting his walls.

Besides the flipping of pages, everything was silent. Tam sat alone in his dull room, his slim fingers gently turning the papers of an even duller book he was looking into. He normally wouldn’t read, but he was so very bored. Linh, his sister, was out in the Forbidden Cities, trying to find a new pet called a cat with Sophie and Biana. Tam was positive she was planning to drive him insane with animals.

Hours passed, and Tam was on the last page of his book. It had the title of, “Big Book of Pets”. Sophie had brought it for Linh the last time she’d illegally went to the human cities and it was pretty fitting with the ordeal Tam would have to endure after his sister added a new member to their household. He would study about all the animals so that he could be ready for whatever monstrosity Linh would have him take care of.

Shutting the back flap of the book, Tam flopped onto his soft white pillows, his bed bouncing slightly with him. The teen shivered and pulled his blankets over himself. He lay there, forlorn and apathetic in his bed. Grabbing his Imparter from the bedside table, he flipped it open and scrolled through his device. He almost dozed off from the silence, but it seems like the person on the other end of the call that Tam answered had other plans.

“Hey, Bangs Boy!” exclaimed Keefe with a rather mischievous look in his ice blue hues.

Tam groaned out of annoyance and blinked his eyes open. “What?” he demanded.

“Woah there, I’m just checking in with you. I’m pretty bored. But I swear, I’m not dying your hair pink or anything today. But if I did pull off something, I’d start with cutting those bangs off first.”

“Shut up, my bangs are awesome. You're just jealous of how more ladies swoon for me.”

“I don’t need no one to be head over heels with me.”

“Oh, right, you have your girlfriend, Sophie.”

“I- She’s not my girlfriend, so be quiet.”

“Mhm, sure she isn’t.”

Now, Tam wasn’t very fond of this conversation and where it was going. Yes, he did have a hair rivalry with Keefe, but what he yearned for was a decent, PLEASANT conversation with him. The teen was tired of arguing whenever they met and was especially done with the fact of being the one staring from afar in the hallways of Foxfire. It’s not like it was his choice he was gay for Keefe Sencen, the straightest guy he knew.

To Tam, Keefe was one hot elf. And also a kind and funny one. Everything about Keefe was perfect to Tam - well, except his boasting about his hair and his tendency to get himself into all sorts of trouble. He wasn’t sure what to make of his feelings and words around Keefe, so he just continued to put up a “go away because I don’t like you” facade, but he really didn’t mean that. He just wanted to hold Keefe’s hand and tease him for stupid actions and play with his blonde hair, even though that’s what started their hatred. The hair.

Keefe must’ve noticed the pain that began to form in Tam’s eyes. Or his Empath abilities were getting stronger. Either way, he let his own taunting act drop and put up his caring one. “Hey, you okay?”

Eyes widening, Tam placed his free hand over his silver orbs and began rambling unconvincingly. “W-What? I’m completely fine and I have no idea why you’re asking that.” 

“Don’t lie to me, Bangs Boy. Move your hand.”

“Uh, no.”

“C’mon, dude. If nothing’s wrong, then you shouldn’t have a problem with that.”

“The, uh...the light’s in my eyes.”

Keefe shook his head and laughed, the sound giving Tam butterflies in his stomach. “What light?”

“Uhhhhh- The one above me.” Tam clapped his hands twice and turned the Imparter’s camera above. “See? Light?”

Tam’s silver bangs glinted in the warm white light, a reminiscent of his time at Exillium. 

“Bro, you just turned it on.”

“N-No I didn’t. It’s been like that.” He clapped again twice, turning off the brightness that emitted from above.

“Okay, sure. You’ve turned off the light. Now turn the camera towards yourself and tell me what’s wrong.”

“NOTHING. N-O-T-H-I-N-G. Nothing’s wrong!” He pulled the camera back to his hand-covered face.

“Then you wouldn’t mind me coming over?”

“I totally would.”

“Aw, c’mon, you can’t resist the Keefester!” The blonde-haired teen wiggled his eyebrows teasingly, adding a little wink to the end. “You know you want a little time with me.”

“Alright, I’ll play your little game. But I can’t promise that I won’t kick you out when you’re annoying.” 

Keefe gasped dramatically and fell onto his sea blue sheet covers. “You couldn’t ever do that to poor Keefe!” 

Tam snuggled into his bed, getting comfy. “I would.”

“Fine. Let’s make a bet then.”

“...Go on, I’m listening.”

Settling on his stomach, Keefe propped his head upon his elbow as he tried to set his Imparter down on his own bed. He checked to make sure the camera was still on as he spoke. “Since you’re so sure you’ll kick me out…”

Tam sighed quietly, spacing out. I couldn’t let you leave, Keefe. If I got a chance to enjoy your company, I’d treasure it. You’re, like, so great and I don’t know why I even try to keep up my awful personality around you. HOW ARE YOU STILL SO NICE TO ME EVEN THOUGH I’M SO MEAN AND YOU’VE GONE THROUGH SO MUCH?! It’s gonna be so awkward when you come over. Why am I even agreeing? Am I gay panicking-

“TAM!”

The teen flinched, and squeaked out a pitiful, “What?”

Keefe looked tempted to burst out laughing at Tam, but he kept himself under control and placed his signature smirk on his handsome face. “You gotta seem like you paid attention after zoning out, Bangs Boy. Foxfire’s not gonna let you pass by daydreaming about...whatever a salty guy like you dreams about. I’m assuming you didn’t hear my idea?”

“Nope,” replied Tam, popping the ‘p’ sound. “Not a single thing. Guess you’ll have to say it all again. What a shame.” He gave Keefe a half-smile. A genuine half-smile.

“Was that a Tam smile? Look at that, I’m lucky to have seen one, even though it was because I’m having to say everything I said again. Very cruel of you,” said Keefe, wagging a finger at Tam disapprovingly. “Pay attention this time. So, what I’m suggesting is that since you’re so sure of the fact that you’ll send me away...We’ll do a time limit. If I get to stay without pissing you off in that time, You’ll have to allow me to do whatever with you for the rest of the day-”

“You’ll totally mess up my hair.”

“I promise not to lay a finger on those oh, so awesome bangs of yours. Anyways, if I don’t get to stay in the time limit, I’ll let you decide what to do without telling me. Surprise me, Song.”

“Don’t call me by my last name. It’s disgusting. I hate the very sound of it.”

“Okay, okay. Surprise me, Tammy.”

“I honestly prefer that over Song. Also, your idea sounds like the classic bet that happens all the time. Fine, deal.”

“Wow, it was that easy to have you join me? Dang, Tammy. You’re getting soft.”

“Shut up. I’m just bored. What’s the time for the bet?”

“Uhhhhh, two hours?”

“Cool. I guess good luck trying to not screw this up.”

“Same to you, Bangs Boy.”

“Oh, and don’t come through the front door. Just light leap to the back and I’ll find a way to bring you up.”

Silence followed and Tam realized that Keefe must’ve ended the call. He ran a cold hand down his face and let out a frustrated grunt. He was surely to get into trouble when Keefe waltzed into Chloramore like it was nothing. He heard footsteps come from outside of his door so he quickly hid his Imparter and pulled his book out again.

“Tam,” his father, Quan, said, stepping into the slightly messy room. “I heard talking. Was that you?” He kicked a black shirt to the side and scowled at the way Tam left a few clothes out of place.

“I don’t know, was it?” Tam wasn’t going to give Quan a single straight answer. It was good entertainment watching his father become furious. Tapping his finger on his chin in an act, Tam spoke again. “I guess it was. I don’t see anyone else here, now do I?”

“Who were you conversing with?”

“Myself.”

“I find that quite hard to believe.”

“What, I can’t discuss a book with myself since you won’t let me go see anyone?”

“You’re not stable, Tam.”

Shaking his head, he let out a tiny chuckle that didn’t sound very amused. “I’m not stable? Lovely hearing you talk, but go away now.”

“Give me your Imparter.”

“What Imparter?”

“Tam, I may be what you call ‘cruel’, but I can assure you I’m not. I can also assure you that I’m not stupid.”

He rolled his hands and pushed his bangs out of his eyes, groaning out of annoyance. “Whatever.” Tam made sure the device was locked and shut down before tossing it to Quan. He pointed to his door and made a motion for his father to leave. “Get out now.”

Straightening his back, Quan gave Tam a glare. “Don’t speak to me like that, Tam Song.” Tam grimaced at the mention of his last name, clearly not fond of it whatsoever. “Remember your place in this household.” And with that, he walked out of the room.

Boy, was today a bad day for Tam. First, Keefe calls, then they make a bet, and now he had to listen to his father boss him around? Not very fun. As Tam was deciding that nothing else could happen and that Keefe would ditch the bet in an attempt to save himself, he heard shuffling and a lot of whining from outside his window. A rock smacked the tinted window and Tam scowled, making his way towards it. He let in air and realized how long he hadn’t been outside. The thought got cut off by a familiar voice, and Tam began to regret every decision he’d made so far today.

[krizaland]

Enter the Zimvoid Chapter 6

First Chapter  Previous

Here comes another chapter! There’s still a little angst here but at least it ends on a happy note!

As you drew closer to the inner city, you heard the muffled sound of 500 still sobbing at his desk

“WHY SWEET Y/N?! WHY NOT ME BEFORE YOU!? WHY MUST THIS BE?! YOU WERE ALL I HAD LEFT IN THIS MISERABLE EXISTENCE!”

You stopped dead in your tracks.

“Please tell me that wasn’t my Zim I just heard.” You whispered to yourself

“It’s all Zim’s fault! I should’ve never let this happen to you! You would still be alive if I wasn’t such a failure…”

“Oh god! my Zim thinks I’m dead! I gotta tell him I’m ok!” You gasped as you dug towards the source of the cries.

“Oh how I wish I could tell you how sorry I am! I’M SO SORRY!” 500 continued to sob as he slowly lifted his head off his desk.

BAM!

“Don’t worry, Zim! I’m still alive!”

500’s jaw hit the ground at what he just witnessed. He lifted up his purple glasses to get a better look.

There, covered in dirt and grass stains was the most beautiful Y/N he had ever seen!

No! This couldn’t be real! You couldn’t be real! You were dead! You’ve been dead for years! This had to be some kind of cruel, cruel joke.

“WHY MUST ZIM’S BRAIN PLAY SUCH CRUEL TRICKS?! LEAVE ME BE BEAUTIFUL HALLUCINATION! LEAVE ZIM’S SIGHT!” 500 wailed as he threw himself to the ground.

You shrank a bit as you watched the heartbreaking display. He may have not been your Zim but seeing any Zim in pain was just too much for your heart to bear.

You took a deep breath as you slowly approached 500.

Without another word, you pulled the sobbing alien into a hug.

500 gasped when he felt your arms wrapped around you.

“You…You’re real?”

“Yes…I’m real” You whispered softly.

“B-But, I thought you were dead!” 500 exclaimed as he looked up at you.

“Well…I’m afraid not your Y/N but…I’m still a real Y/N”

“Heh. Figures….I knew it was too good to be true. So, how’d a lovely Y/N like you even end up in this….awful nightmare world?” 500 groaned.

“It’s a long story…”

And with that, you told 500 the story of how you ended up in the Zimvoid and how you were planning to overthrow Number 1 and free the other Zims.

“Woah there! Listen, as much as we’d all love to escape this hellhole, you can’t just overthrow Number 1. He’ll throw you in the dungeon at best. Especially if he sees you with a Dib.” 500 warned as he waved his hands in front of his face.

“Well it’s still worth a try.”

“Ah, you’re just as optimistic as my Y/N was.” 500 shook his head as he wiped away a tear.

“Oh right…I am so, so sorry for your loss.” You whisper as you held 500 a bit tighter.

“Eh…Don’t be This Zim needs no pity. It’s not like it was your fault anyway.”

500’s voice suggested he didn’t care but the tears streaming down his cheeks said otherwise.

“Why are you even bothering with me anyway? I’m not even your Zim.”

“Look, just because your not my Zim doesn’t mean I want to leave you all sad and shmoopy!” You exclaimed as you dried a few of his tears with your thumb.

“But why does it matter? Why does it matter to you whether some useless Zim is shmoopy or not?” 500’s voice started to quiver.

“You’re not useless, um…”

“Just call me 500. That’s all I am now… Just another number in this sick, cruel system…”

“You’re so much more than just a number!” You hummed for a moment, “What if I called you something else?”

“Like what? Pathetic? worthless?”

“No! No! How about um,” Your hummed once more as your mind searched for a decent nickname.

“Wimp? Failure-”

“No! None of those things are true! Just let me think!” Suddenly, 500’s purple glasses caught your eye, “I’ve got it! How about, Specs?”

“Eh…I don’t care….”

“Very well. Specs it is!” You chirped as you pointed to the ceiling.

“I still don’t understand why you’re wasting your time with me…Aren’t you worried about your Zim? ” Specs groaned as he turned away from you.

“I’m not wasting my time! Of course I’m worried about my Zim but I’m worried about you too! You’re hurting! I can’t just let you keep living like this!” You insisted as you gently made him face you again.

“Sure you can. In fact, I’d say its better off you give up on me. I’ll only drag you down.”

“I am not going to give up on you! I know I can’t cure your depression but…” You sighed as you trailed off for a moment.

“But what? Listen, I appreciate the gesture but there’s no way to cheer me up. Now if you’ll excuse me, I gotta get back to work.” Specs groaned as he tried to climb off your lap.

“No! Get back here! Look, I know I can’t cure your depression but maybe I can make you feel just a little bit better.” You insisted as you pulled Specs back into your lap

“And just how do you plan on doing that?”

You hummed for a moment before you got the perfect idea.

You pulled Specs closer as you begun to gently stroke his antennas.

“Wait what are you-…mmm” Specs let out a soft purr as he nuzzled into your chest.

You let out a giggle as you continued to stroke his antennas. You had to admit, you missed cuddling with Zim. Even if he wasn’t your Zim

“See? I told you I could make you feel a bit better.”

“Yeah, yeah yeah, whatever. Just keep petting me…please” Specs’s apathetic voice was laced with a slight plea.

“With pleasure, master.”

As you continued to pet him, Specs let out more purrs and chirps He didn’t care that you weren’t his Y/N. All that mattered was that he could feel your embrace once again.

“I know you’re not my Y/N but…I missed this. Oh how I missed this” 500’s voice quivered as he held you tight.

“I missed this too….”

For the first time in what felt like ages, Specs’s PAK sparked.

You both jumped at the small static zap.

“Heh. Sorry, I didn’t know I could still do that…Come to think of it….I didn’t think I could feel…happy again either.” Specs sat up a little straighter as he looked up at you.

You felt your heart sink into your stomach. Poor Specs! He must’ve been so lonely!

“Oh Specs…”

“Eh, I’ll be alright…. You know, I never knew how much I needed this until now. So thanks for pitying me I guess…” Specs sniffled as he dried away a few more tears.

“I wasn’t pitying you. Like you said, you don’t need anyone’s pity. You’re still a Zim! And everyone knows that Zim the best there is!”

“Not this Zim…This Zim has been a failure from the start…”

“That’s not true! You’re not a failure! You’re a Zim! Sure you may have made some mistakes but that doesn’t define who you are!”

Specs scoffed and shook his head.

“You truly are a Y/N. Always so sweet and optimistic”

“You know I’m just stating the facts, right?” You teased as you patted his head.

Specs felt his PAK spark once more as he finally felt a smile spread across his face.

“Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m not a failure..but I don’t feel like a true Zim either… I guess I’m just Specs now. Heh. Specs kind of has a nice ring to it now that I think of it.” Specs admitted as he stretched a bit.

“Well that wasn’t what I was getting at but I’ll take it. Are you feeling a little better?”

“Yeah, I guess so…”

Next

[ice-cream-nekogirl]

Amy Martinez (Character Sheet TV Tropes Style) U-Y

Uncanny Valley Girl: Has the appearance of a conventionally cute and upbeat school girl... who’s killed at least fifteen people to date, knows how to manipulate people and can display a callous, cheerfully psychotic side whenever she’s crossed. 

Undying Loyalty: To her Coven, as they took her in after her parent’s death when Hero Society felt unable to and despite the atrocities and horrors she’s witnessed she’s fiercely protective and devoted to her coven and even sets out back to Japan to connect both the world of Witches and Heroes together so her kind wouldn’t be ostracized or demonized anymore.

Unstoppable Rage: After the culture festival, she goes into one of these and beats her teachers and Midoriya when they attempt to stop her. She’s only stopped when Midoriya starts crying and when Shinsou gives her a sad look and gently talks her down, followed by Cordelia. 

Used To Be a Sweet Kid: Amy’s certainly still capable of being sweet, but she used to be a relatively stable, genuinely happy child who had yet to do anything horrible. In fact, the worst thing she did as a child was steal a bouncehouse so that way Shinsou could have one for his birthday party. In modern times, while she’s gradually improved and her sanity has strengthened, she’s still a troublemaker who performs much more lethal pranks and still participates in murder.

Violently Protective Girlfriend: She knows that Bakugo can take care of himself, but doesn’t stand for Madison taunting him, and beats the HELL out of two other witches who attack and threaten him.

Amy: Get the fuck away from my Katsuki you bitches! 

Vitriolic Best Buds: With Midoriya and Iida mostly. She and Midoriya’s relationship was strained for a time during their first year in UA but slowly started to patch up over the course and while Amy still likes to tease Midoriya, he holds no ill will towards her and they have managed to rebuild their friendship and Amy still adores him despite everything.

She and Iida bicker nearly every single day and Amy pranks him constantly and gives him a hard time every chance she gets, but Iida still cares about Amy and looks after her, and Amy secretly appreciates him, respects him and cares about him enough to adhere to him at times.

Weak But Skilled: Amy’s an EXTREMELY gifted witch and knows how to use her powers and spells very well, but isn’t the most physically powerful girl nor is she as skilled in combat as others are.

We Want Our Jerk Back: Inverted, Amy’s always been something of a jerk but was still a cheerful, supportive and comical friend to her class, but when she leaves the class notes that it didn’t feel right without her and missed her immature sense of humor.

Also shown in the Internship arc where Amy does briefly return to intern with Endeavor along with Midoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki, only she’s apathetic, bored and downright emotionless and the three boys each make at least one attempt to see if a glimpse of her old self is still in there. With Bakugo outright demanding her to crack a smile or at least laugh or giggle as she always used to in the time he’s known her. 

Weight Woe: Despite what she preaches about body positivity, Amy is actually very self-conscious about her weight which is why she wears considerably more conservative and modest clothing compared to her other female friends. Doesn’t help that she gains weight easily and can even fall into a depression when it becomes very apparent. 

What The Hell Hero?: Midoriya gives her one of these when she acts callously after she and Bakugo are rescued and later during the Culture Festival where Amy refuses to partake in their class dance out of spite towards him. Amy later starts to give herself these when she realizes that she’s gone too far, particularly in having the intent of seriously harming Midoriya during a fight she wins.

Why Did It Have To Be Snakes?: Amy doesn’t have much phobias, but she IS afraid of seagulls for some reason, calling them the ‘devil’. She’s also terrified of cockroaches, centipedes and holes. 

Wicked Witch: She at times acts like this, mostly just to troll her friends and scare them even though she DOES have some of the habits such as the evil cackle, penchant cats and wearing black and even lives in a mansion just outside the city.

Wife Basher-Basher: Amy doesn’t hesitate to threaten to personally murder and torture Endeavor if he ever raises a hand to Todoroki, his mother or any of his children again. 

Wild Card: Amy’s on neither the heroes side or the villains side, but she IS on her coven’s side which means she does as she pleases, shows no obligation to UA or Hero Society and is there primarily for Shinsou’s sake and for the sake of battling other people to show off her powers. This becomes subverted when she develops strong friendships with her classmates, falls in love with Bakugo and makes friends with her classmates, especially Ashlen.

Witch Hunt: Was the victim of one even in Japan as witch hunters broke into her house, destroyed her home, killed her dog, burnt her mother to the stake and lynched her father. She was nearly burnt to the stake herself only for the Pro-Heroes to save her, but because they weren’t willing to care for her with the risk of other witch hunters infiltrating their society as well, Amy was forced to move to America with other witches, but the hunt didn’t stop there as her godmother’s husband was a witch hunter who nearly killed her and her other sisters until they were all killed by the Axemen. Amy states that witch hunters still exist and while the war may never end, that she and her sisters fight back more.

Woman In Black: Just like her sisters, Amy loves to wear black and adorns an all-black Hero Costume.

Woman Scorned: After Amy confesses that she’s in love with Midoriya, he doesn’t think she’s being serious and instead scolds her for her lack of cooperation in the Culture Festival and overall fluctuating attitude. Which leads to a big argument but when he calls her selfish and cruel, Amy completely loses it and challenges him to a fight out of nowhere, in which she lashes out her anger at him by beating him and spewing her now negative feelings towards him as she wins the fight. She gets over this thank goodness but it’s still something she’s not proud of.

Whenever Bakugo breaks up with her, she’s aggressive and cold to him and on worse days she’ll attack him with her telekinesis.

Women Are Wiser: Generally averted as Amy’s actually the least mature girl in Class A, but can display common sense when it’s needed.

Woobie, Destroyer Of Worlds: Amy might be a crazy, spiteful and wicked girl, but was forced to abandoned her best and only friend, including said best friend’s family who loved her like a daughter, and she felt rejected by her own society when they gave her away to strangers, didn’t even bother to check on her even though these strangers ended up indirectly exposing her to even more horrors that further traumatized her the point where she suffered nightmares, bullying from eve other witches and has contemplated suicide. 

Would Hurt a Child: Implied but never shown. Amy notes that with children having superpowers now, that there’s not many lines to cross since their powers can be used to fight back and has no qualms roughing up younger kids should they piss her off. 

Inverted also, Amy has no problems killing adults, nor did she have any issue in beating the shit out of her own teacher. 

But also Averted. Despite Amy claiming that she will hit a child should they piss her off, she’s never actually done it. In fact, even when she disliked Eri, she did absolutely nothing to (physically) harm the girl because she said she’s “not a monster” and couldn’t do anything like that to her. 

However, she DOES hit a younger witch of 10 when she kicks her in the groin and Amy pays back the favor by punching her in the stomach. 

Yandere: She beats the tar out of Midoriya when he accidentally spurns her feelings for him, attacks Uraraka via telekinesis in a fit of jealousy, treats Eri coldly out of jealousy due to Aizawa offering her care and also beats the tar out of him too for not stepping in to take care of her when she lost her family.

In a moment much more Played For Laughs, she threatens and shouts at Bakugo for dumping her for the first time and says that she’ll murder him in his sleep before he thinks he can get away with it. However, Amy DOES relapse into insanity when she thinks that Bakugo doesn’t love her.

Yaoi Fangirl: It’s much less to do with the fetish and more to do with Amy being extremely passionate about gay rights as she squeals whenever she sees a healthy gay couple between two men and was more than happy to help John Henry Moore into getting out there to start dating men again.

Then there’s the fact that she’s written erotic fanfiction about her own friends (much like Tina Belcher) and reveals that she ships Bakugo and Todoroki, Bakugo and Kirishima, Kaminari and Bakugo, Kaminari and Sero, Tokoyami and Shouji, Tokoyami and Kouda, Shinsou and Tokoyami, Midoriya and Kirishima and Shinsou and Monoma and even Shinsou and Kaminari.

You Are Better Than You Think You Are: To her shame, Amy tends to be uplifted when people reassure her, especially from Shinsou, Ashlen and Cordelia. Shinsou often reassures her whenever she thinks she doesn’t belong in Hero Society, and Cordelia gladly tells her that despite what her society did to her, that the coven wouldn’t be complete without her and her sensitive heart. And then Ashlen comes into the picture and appears to love her for all her flaws, as she embraces her imperfections and tells her that she wouldn’t be her best friend if she weren’t the way she is. 

You Can’t Go Home Again: After her parents are killed by witch hunters who infiltrated Japan the pro-heroes were unwilling and unable to watch over and care the young witch, which urges Aizawa to call the coven from New Orleans. And when Cordelia, Fiona and Myrtle arrive to retrieve her and take her to Robichaux Academy, a safe haven in New Orleans, America for young witches such as herself to be her new home. However, they also tell her that she won’t be able to return to her former life in Japan and can’t stay in any contact with Shinsou and his family for not just Amy’s protection but for Shinsou’s protection as well.  Thankfully she IS able to return to Japan, but only as she got older and witches being outed to the world which encouraged Hero Society to be more accepting of witches.

You Got Spunk: She goes with Midoriya, Bakugo and Todoroki during the Winter internship with Endeavor and because Amy has no filter with the pro-hero, openly disrespects him to the point of threatening him, he is partially amused but impressed by how ballsy she is.

Endeavor: This brat has hellfire in her...

You Never Did That For Me: The minute Amy finds out about Eri’s existence, she’s initially sympathetic... until she hears that the pro-heroes are going to take care of her and that UA is going to adopt her and place her into a more caring environment with responsible adults and older kids who look after her. As it all sinks in, Amy realizes and calls them out for taking in a girl with unstable powers, but didn’t do the same thing for her at all even though she was also a girl with unstable powers, and that instead they gave her away to strangers who did a less than stellar job and her ‘guardians’ exposed her to even more trauma. This is what triggers her into attacking and injuring Midoriya and Aizawa, and then leaving UA for 2 whole months out of anger and hurt. 

You Wouldn’t Like Me When I’m Angry: No... you really wouldn’t. Amy even says this word for word at times, or just outright warning others to ‘get the fuck out’ or else she’ll ‘get angry’ and she normally lives up to her warnings as when truly angry, Amy’s powers cause things around her to break and the building to tremble if she’s really pissed off. 

Yuri Fangirl: Much like it’s stated above, Amy also grows very excited and happy when she sees a healthy lesbian couple and also likes to pair her friend Mallory with Coco due to their strong friendship. Amy also adores the Steven Universe cartoon because of the prevalent lesbian relationships in it, and was disappointed when she found out Yuri! On Ice didn’t have actual yuri.

[argorpg-blog]

CONGRATULATIONS and welcome to the crew of the Argo II, MIA! The Gods have spoken: welcome aboard OTHISI, known as ÉLIDA ROSALES (JINX), with a faceclaim of AMANDA ARCURI. Please take a look at our checklist, and send in your account in the next 24 hours.

ADMIN NOTES: Mia, we are absolutely in love with your app. In a group like this we run the risk of getting too sad or too dark, but Jinx is the bright spot of color we never knew we needed! She is so bright, so fun and vivid - you had us when you described her rainbow graffiti and colorful hair. Despite this, you managed to keep her vivid and playful without turning her into a cartoon character. She still has her own struggles, her own hardships as much as anyone else - it just comes off in a more delightful way. We can’t wait to see what kind of trouble she causes! 

NAME/ALIAS: Mia

AGE, TIMEZONE, PRONOUNS:  PST she/her/hers

ACTIVITY  & EXTRAS: I’m a college student so life can get pretty busy, but I just finished midterms so hopefully I’ll be relatively free. I should always be able to reply in twenty-four hours, with some exceptions when I’m especially busy.

IN CHARACTER

DESIRED SKELETON: Othisi

CHARACTER NAME:  Élida Rosales → Jinx!!!

AGE & GENDER:  Cis-Female and 20 (February 11 1998)

FACECLAIM: Amanda Arcuri

BIOGRAPHY:

(i)

Ever since Nadia left Argentina, she had been a wanderer. The door back to Argentina was locked and sealed, and so she in turn became like a seed in the wind, blowing and blowing, looking for a place to lay down roots with little success. For a few years Nadia dropped off the map, little to no paperwork noting where she was or what she did, before she surfaced again in New York City, working menial jobs for wages that nobody could expect to live off of. Her child often clung to her hip while she was working, taught to be quiet so not to disturb the other employees and the boss.

They lived in a low income housing complex filled with other Argentinian refugees and immigrants, all forming a tight knit community that would trade off watching the children whose parents were working. The neighbors ended up being the ones who taught Élida how to walk and talk, all while her mother worked and worked and worked. It was an extended family unrelated by blood that watched out for each other in what little ways they could. They also knew not to pry: they all had memories they rather leave in the past. Thus, Élida didn’t know who her father was. Nadia never offered the information and Élida never asked.

(ii)

Élida never thought it odd to have seven uncles, nine aunts, and a battalion of cousins, but no father; to her that was just the way the world worked. Her universe was the series of buildings that made up the complex, the bus to school and back, and the few stores her mother would bring her to when shopping. This was her kingdom, where she ruled as the empress of all. She quickly became the master of sneaking out, of ducking under windows, and of slipping through fences in her little complex. Sometimes a gaggle of other children would follow her, sometimes she was on her own. She’d come home cheeks sticky with ice cream that she begged the local shop for and her mother would just give her a knowing look before swiping a cloth off of the counter to clean Élida’s cheeks with.

It was a normal day like any other when Élida came home from a day’s wanderings to find two official looking adults glaring down at her. A voice from inside her just screamed run, and so she did. Small feet sprinted down staircases, past the doors of her extended family as they looked on with worry, and onto the small green space in the middle of the apartments. The adults were adults though, which gave them the unfair advantage of being bigger and faster than her. They snatched her up before she could even make it onto the street.

(iii)

In her first foster home, she was the only girl with three boys, all older and rougher than she was. They would steal what few possessions she’d been allowed to go and get before being moved, leaving her with nothing of her mother’s. The parents weren’t cruel, but they weren’t kind either. They seldom paid attention to the finger marks that would show up on her arms were the boys gripped her too tight or bruises perpetually covering her knees from when they tripped her. She adapted though, and got quicker, and sneakier. After an outburst one day, where she scratched one of her foster brothers until he bled, she was moved to her second home. They never recorded why she attacked her brother, just that she had, making her into a violent case.

(iv)

Her second home she refuses to think about.

(v)

She’s twelve the first time she runs away. The phrase running away didn’t feel quite right though. It felt more as if she was running towards something. The softening air of spring was quickly approaching as snow gave way into rain when she leaves. The pavement was slick with water washing into drains. Sometimes it flashed rainbow as oil slicked from the streets into the water, and despite her knowing it was pollution, she couldn’t help but be a little entranced by the sight of a liquid rainbow. Two weeks later the police arrested a mud-encrusted child for petty theft, placing her into her first group home.

(vi)

Quiet they tell her. Do your chores and don’t you dare complain. You’re lucky to be here. Élida wasn’t a child anymore and she didn’t listen to the whims of adults, so every demand was met with a greater act of defiance. They hung the threat of juvie over her head like an axe, ready to swing down at any point, but she was not cowed. The other kids would come and go, transferring in and out of the home, a multitude of new faces and names to memorize before they were snatched away and dragged to a different home, but she stayed. Her name became a curse spat at her for every act of joyful rebellion she committed. After they caught her spray painting rainbow dicks onto the neighbor’s garage door, she was sent to juvie.

(vii)

From her chain link cage she could only peer into the outside world and watch as odd creatures slinked around, beady eyes staring her down. Nobody else seemed to see them.

(viii)

She goes through three more houses before she finally runs away for good, vowing never to be caged again. It was a flash decision. One moment she was looking out the locked window, the next her mind is screaming at her to run, to leap, to fly after months (years) of being imprisoned. Thinking things through was never her strong point, so in seconds the window lock was popped and she was slipping off into the night. Intuition lead her through the crowded streets of New York City, up into an abandoned perch that she would soon call home. A penthouse, left in shambles, became the first safe place she had lived in since her mother died. It was here she was allowed to heal from years of being placed in uncaring home after apathetic house. With little thought to budgeting, she spent the last of the cash she stole from her foster parents on hair dye and nail polish. In a gas station bathroom she bends over the porcelain sink, the excess pink running out of her hair with the water. Her hands are stained the same color. It feels like victory but smells like chemicals. Élida Jinxcounts this as a win.

It’s over this period of her life that she had the time–and need–to hone her skills as a thief, and hone them she does. Her nails are always painted with stolen polish, mismatched earrings glimmer in the light as she cocks her head mischievously, a smile dancing on her ruby red lips. These were victimless crimes! Nobody was being hurt and the adrenaline rush she felt as her feet pounded the pavement, the sounds of distant yelling as the police tried to follow her winding path, was un-replicable. Eyes previously dimmed by sadness sparked again, and continued to brighten with every impulsive act. So what if she sees creatures that nobody else does? She outruns them too, laughing every step of the way.

She officially meets her father, not that she knew it at the time, on a Wednesday night. Her hand frantically shoves a necklace into her bra for safekeeping, while sirens echo in the distance. She doesn’t know this neighborhood, she doesn’t know where to turn next, and she loves it. The thrill of mystery and adventure whooshing through her ears, her now blue hair blowing around her, the sounds of hounding footsteps behind her. Which way to turn, right or left? Right? Or left? A moment of indecision as she approached the upcoming intersection could be the difference between freedom or juvie. Then in front of her is a man, his hand casually pointed left, a tilted grin that mirrors her own. Without a shadow of doubt Jinx knows she can trust him, so without hesitating she turns left onto freedom.

Vandalism becomes her main form of expression. Bright murals dotting the streets she frequents, all carry the same bright blue signature: get jinxed!!! She prides herself on being a one woman rise in crime, craving the high of success. Her penthouse was now decorated with all assortment of trinkets, gleaming bright colors when the light shined through the dusty windows. Everything was DIY, from plastic containers remade into ottomans to glass bottles turned into cups.

At night, under the smog filled sky, in her reclaimed penthouse she dreams of the same man from before telling her it’s time to go, to move on, his quirky smile familiar in some way.

The next night she spends trying to bandage her mangled leg, blood bright red staining her repurposed sheets. A yellow jagged tooth from an animal not of this world still embedded in her calf.

(ix)

The woman with the limp who sells her tacos every Tuesday stops Jinx on her way home, eyes a mixture of worry and strength. In a hushed tone she tells Jinx about her father.

(x)

Camp was supposed to be the home she never had, that’s what the satyr described it as, but instead she just feels empty. Another cage. Her cabin wasn’t even a real family, it was a mishmash of the unwanted and the children of Hermes. Jinx wasn’t unwanted, she wasn’t unloved, she was Jinx and that was damn well good enough. Her life of freedom had been replaced by rules. When to wake up, when to sleep, when to do this and that and who cares what? There were moments that things felt almost good. Like when she was out of the cabin, learning how to throw knives with frightening accuracy. Or when she was picking locks into restricted areas, leaving strings of honey and bombs of bees dangling in her wake. Then she went back to her cabin and was surrounded by a constant cycle of sadness, morose expression of new campers feeling betrayed by their godly parent coming and going with no end. This would never be home.

Jinx adapted–she always did–and made friends, upped her pranking game to new levels (the incident of 2016 would never be mentioned again if Chiron had his way (Jinx made sure he didn’t)), and she still got be free during the majority of the year. New York became her playing ground once again after summer ended, and police officers everywhere bemoaned September. Besides, it gave her a chance to get to know, however distantly, her father.

Her mother never dwelled on him, always looking forward, and so that’s what Jinx did too. She had assumed he died during the military coup, back in Argentina, but now that she knew differently, a longing for a relationship grew that she never knew existed. It wasn’t devotional like some people were with their parents, it was something closer than that. Jinx didn’t need to find the right words to describe it, she’d leave poetry to Apollo’s kiddos, she just knew that it felt right.

(xi)

Names and prophecies were being listed off, which was dull. Instead, she focused her attention on pickpocketing a son of Athena’s skinny jeans. Skinny jeans were a fashion trend that proved a difficult challenge to overcome, but not to fear, Jinx was up for the task. A few sets of nearby eyes swiveled towards her; the wallet was half-way out of his pocket. They weren’t looking at her quarry though, they were looking at her. Her name was called. Shamelessly pocketing the wallet she moved to the front with the others who were called. Nobody was more bewildered than her, but hey, adventure is adventure and hell yah she wants to go! Besides, everybody looked all tight and nervous which was so not good for their skin; wrinkles and shit would happen if you frowned too much. Honestly they need her, if only to save them from premature aging.

FATAL FLAW/DEFINING CHARACTERISTIC:

Impulse control is not what Jinx would call her strong point. She’s never been part of a team, favoring her independence and freedom over collective action. It’s made her whimsical in the sense that if she wants to do something, what’s stopping her? The repercussions fall on her, the outcome she decides through her actions. If she wants to go balls to the wall, there is nothing stopping her. It’s her risk to take. Suddenly though, it’s not just her risk. There are a group of people that rely on her to be steady and she doesn’t know how to be that. Nothing in her life has ever been steady. She doesn’t think, which has gotten her arrested more than once, and she doesn’t plan. It’s always been her downfall. It’s not a lack of cleverness but rather a lack of control. Most of her life has been either highly regulated or completely unregulated, so she doesn’t work in moderates. Jinx is going all in, reckless attack, or she’s not going at all.

EXTRAS

WHEN YOU ARE READY TO SUBMIT, GO HERE!

Mockblog

Pinterest

[cyclonusngalvatron]

Love, Time and Pain

A rewrite of an old TF:A themed drabble.

A sad/emotional fic if the title isn’t warning enough. Enjoy

You had been resolute and steadfast, never wavering from your core values since the day you came online.

You had aligned yourself with the Decepticon leader; Megatron.

Although for you he was wrong.

All wrong.

This was not the Decepticon leader. Not in your optics. Never.

He was not the proud powerful warrior you had sworn allegiance to.

The one who stood before you as you all stood beneath the watchful gaze of an entity far stronger than the universe dared know.

No, this was a snivelling, manipulative creep that paled in comparison to the glory you knew.

You hated it.

It twisted your internals up into a fit of disgust.

Even when you stood in front of the grey disgrace, hand on your symbol swearing loyalty to the fool.

So wrapped up in his own ideals he barely noticed how you looked at him with cool contempt.

The event that brought you here and put you in this situation...

You had ended up falling a great distance into a place known as New Kaon, your damaged body being repaired by those who resided there.

Centuries started to go by.

Senseless, purposeless centuries.

Cyclonus noted just how nihilistic he had started becoming.

Distaste of your current situation and knowledge of certain futile events had begun twisting themselves into deadpan barbs spat at those you were made to work with.

Centuries became millennia and Cyclonus watched himself become a dispassionate mess.

Where did his passion for the Decepticon cause go?

Probably eroded away after spending so long with these primitive 'cons.

And being without the charismatic lead you had so eagerly followed, the smiling purple plates that had lead you to victories and so much more.

Instead of being lead by a grey menace whose callous smirk was one of a mecha looking for his own fulfilment rather than that of his cause.

You didn't get along well with Oil Slick but that was okay.

You knew what was going to happen to him.

The rest of Team Chaar was manageable as long as you avoided prolonged exposure to them.

So it probably didn't come as any surprise that when that foolish leader Megatron failed, and Team Chaar broke up. Everyone bar Strika and Oil Slick were replaced.

Including you.

Though by that time you had developed a rather apathetic personality and you weren't at all bothered by it and accepted the decision with a cold nod and a small grunt, reminding them their fate will remain the same.

Although the abnormal flatness of emotions bothered you more than being kicked out of the team.

Even then it didn't bother you enough to be bothered enough to do something about it, and that bothered you further but now your processor hurt.

A loop of disinterest and gnawing anger clawing through your spark.

You had to do something about it.

You were proud and strong once, leading the charge against Autobots at your true leader's command.

Feeling there was no hope for yourself now, the only hope you had was to prevent any of this from ever happening.

Prevent yourself from becoming this.

Prevent this set of churning, confusing emotions from ever taking root in your tired fed up processor.

You chose to wait.

It was all you had right now.

Nihilism and apathy threatened constantly to take back the twinge of hope you had at altering your situation.

It was hard to hold them back from smothering the tiny bit of hope left in you.

Especially as there was no one there who understood. Just misguided fools.

You were alone here.

You watched from afar as attempts were made and thwarted at freeing Megatron from where he had been imprisoned.

You had even been brought along on one.

It failed.

Not that it mattered.

Time was a cruel mistress and the term 'life cycle' felt appropriate as Cyclonus felt his life cycling through the same days, over and over again on a non-stop replay.

The same morning, the same refuelling, the same rations, the same fights and arguments.

So long had passed that by now even your swords had rusted away until nothing but the hilt remained of them; replacing and repairing parts on them a fruitless endeavour.

Although you had left a majority of one sword's blade in a small Autobot's back. That was a good hit, you actually felt a smile creep back when that happened as you watched the howling, bleeding mess get taken down.

Before you knew it, missions became fewer and fewer.

Free time for a mech such as Cyclonus was numbing his processor.

It was not for a proud warrior such as yourself.

Though now you were a warrior to none.

A warrior in a sea of despots and fools, waiting for your true lord to return and restore what was right.

You were not so sure why other Decepticons had started sneering at you.

Or why such young ones started crowding around you and asking about tales of survival and stories of battles since passed.

Shooing away or threatening them didn't work, and when it did new ones filled their place.

You wanted to tell them stories sometimes.

Why wouldn't you?

Tell them the tales about the TRUE and PROPER leader of the Decepticons, and the glory that awaits them.

They didn't want that though.

Little brats.

You were now practically bound to the base.

Never leaving it halls, left to stew in your own emotions.

So what? You didn't care, quite befitting a bitter, apathetic fool such as yourself.

Eventually, for the first time in aeons, your apathy began to fade away long enough for new emotions to flow through your systems.

It had been so long since you had felt any of them that it practically hurt as eager hope and happiness pulsed through you like a raging fire that bled through your very being.

For the first time in many, many years you felt… alive.

Transforming had started to hurt now but you didn't care you had to go.

NOW.

A massive battle had occurred on the other side of the known Universe as a new planet glimmered in the sky leaving nothing but a void in its wake.

Along with it, someone new had arisen to take the Decepticon throne and in their wake Oil Slick's corpse joined others in a gory culling of unfit Decepticons.

There was only one reason for this.

The journey took twice as long as it should have.

Engines struggled to put out adequate levels of force as you streaked through the stars.

Cyclonus regretted not going to the medic in such a long time, maybe he should've gone to that regular check-up...

It was a new gleaming citadel.

Glimmering, shining, beautiful.

Tall buildings built with large doorways and high ceilings designed for all to use.

Streets wide for walking or driving whichever locomotion a groundpounder desired with plenty of space to spare; while tall the buildings curved and branched out creating delicate airways for seekers to swoop and glide through, stretched balconies available for easy landing allowing access for fliers straight from the skies.

A Decepticon Utopia, just as you remembered it.

Transforming and landing on one of the main streets, many Decepticons looked at you with a dash of confusion but mainly indifference as Cyclonus spent a few seconds stuck in a crouched position.

The landing had caused something to pop in one of your knee joints. Cold pain sensations washed over the affected area but self-repair systems did nothing in response.

The Orns spent travelling here had obviously worn down on your systems. Nothing more.

The memories of this place flooded your processor with such force Cyclonus felt as if his optics and spinal strut were going to melt from the building heat as his spark thrummed stronger than ever before.

Ignoring the damage to the knee joint you power down the city streets as fast as you could with such a limp.

As you ascended through the buildings, forced to use slopes and elevators to ease the pain on your ailing joints the entire city was spread out before you.

There was a sight that made your spark clench with sharp fear.

A bright green Death crystal was in storage, it was being prepared for use in a giant cannon.

You remember that.

The crystal… it was so hard to get.

Guarded by monsters and a group of aliens with their slaves.

It undoubtedly drew the attention of the Autobots who didn't need much prompting to know for what kind of purpose the crystal was being taken for.

The clue was in the name.

But if it was already so close to being ready for use, then you barely had any time left.

Joints sent screaming pain notifications to your processor as you started running, alas by now what you called running was more of a hobble.

When WAS the last time you went for a check-up?.

The highest room in the tower seemed to be days away at this rate.

It wasn't guarded, there was no need.

Anyone foolish to go in there with the intent to kill was going to join Oil Slick.

Cyclonus wasn't sure when his air intakes became so bad at cycling air through his systems.

Pushing through the door you fell to the floor, body way beyond exhausted.

"Whoa, steady on there fellow" A calming voice cooed in a concerned, friendly manner.

That voice.

That voice.

It was just as you remembered.

Nihilism melted away in an instant as tears streamed uncontrollably down your faceplates.

"Oh my" The voice cooed again, a hand was held close to you.

Cyclonus was shaking as he touched the outstretched hand.

It was real.

"Galvatron…" your aching vocal unit croaked as you were pulled shakily to your feet.

Taller than Megatron with a tri-pointed crest, Galvatron smiled at you with sincere optics.

"Indeed, to what do I owe the honour, Sir?" Galvatron smiled, his charm had helped him win so many Decepticons over when you both had appeared, along with Scourge.

"S-sir?" You gasped, no, not you, you were not worth being referred to as 'sir', not from him. Not from your master not after you dared to stupidly lose hope in him.

Galvatron was still smiling at you. Concern across his faceplates.

There were not any words in your processor that you felt adequate for this situation.

It had taken so long for you to hear about this event finally occurring, and then so long to reach here it had left you with such little time.

You had not even noticed you were still holding his hand.

Tightly.

As if he would vanish at any moment.

Just being in his presence.

The presence that was everything you remember it to be.

A presence that had made you happy. Made you feel energized.

A presence that you had cared for so deeply that even your most closest of touches had not come close.

It left you speechless to be here after so long.

The tears wracked your body as it offered no resistance to the shuddering shakes that ran through it, shaking with enough force to make your wings rattle.

"Are you alright?" Galvatron helped you stand up in a sturdier position, propped up against him "A basic scan does show you to have damaged your knee joint?"

"I'm fine" You weakly protested, the urge to warn him melting away as desperation made you lean into his hold "It has been so long" you murmured barely able to prevent yourself from losing yourself in his touch.

You had waited, longed, for this for so so long.

Galvatron smiled and nodded, confusing you, why was he not reacting to you?

"S… Sir please…" you gasped "Don't stay here! Don't stay!" Galvatron cocked his head

"Ah do not fear venerable Decepticon! This city is under my rule, a safe haven for us to reside in until we can conquer the rest of the Universe! And with the Crystal Cannon near completion, we will have an empire to rule!" Galvatron gestured to the city below, spread out before them through a wall-sized window and balcony.

"No! Autobots!" You gasped angrily and sharply, the mention of your enemies caused Galvatron to snap round to look at you "Sir, please! It's not safe! They have a trap set up! Just leave, please! Why won't you listen to me!?" You yelled desperately confusion and panic coiling around your spark.

"Autobots!? You know of their trap? Where? Where is it!?" Galvatron clasped your soldiers

"Just leave! Please! Why won't you listen to me!? Am I not your second? Why?" Desperation made you bleat pathetically.

"What? My second?" Galvatron suddenly started laughing "Oh my I am sorry! You are low on Energon too! You're delirious my good sir!. Cyclonus is right here! You are most certainly not him old mech!" His voice almost seemed to growl out the last part as if you had disrespected him.

Sure enough Cyclonus, you, glided in through the window and bowed

"My Master" You heard your own voice croon in your smooth manner "The weapon is almost ready for your use"

He, no, you, looked at you.

Your own optics staring back at you.

Your own tall, dark frame standing fresh, new and proud not jaded by years of loneliness.

It was something that you knew would happen, there was a big chance of meeting yourself but it was incredibly jarring in-person and the mental preparation you had done failed as you panted, worried.

"Please" You gasped hoping you would listen to yourself "Leave! Save yourselves! I Beg of you! Don't you recognize me!?" You limped forwards towards yourself, you would listen to yourself surely. "PLEASE!" It took most of your energy to yell that at yourself.

The other Cyclonus, the other you, took a step back.

"Do not mind him" Galvatron came over and wrapped his arm around the other you's waist. Just how you remember it, firm, warm and caring "This mech appears to be hallucinating it seems, don't be so harsh on him, he has been living a long life and has earned the rest we can provide him in our soon-to-be empire! He will feel better and calmer once he has been looked after" He smiled.

And you smiled.

You were being smiled at by yourself.

"No please!"

"He thinks there's a trap set by Autobots" Galvatron explained and the other you nodded as if that explained everything.

"No… no…. please don't let it happen…. I don't want to live this life…" Joyous tears had long since turned to tears of desperation, sorrow and sadness.

"SWEEP!" Galvatron barked and one promptly trundled into the room. A Sweep was never too far away.

"Yes my lord!" It obediently saluted.

"Take this elderly mech down to a respite chamber, I'm sure the climb up here has worn him out. Oh, and make sure a medic can see to him soon"

The Sweep bowed so far and quickly it looked as if it had bent to ninety-degrees.

The soldier quickly scooped you up in its large wing strut and claws gently wrapped around your weeping form as it gently manoeuvred you from the room.

Tears made your optics blurry but you saw Galvatron return to the other you, holding onto his hands as he did yours not so long ago.

The touches you would come to remember so longingly while crammed into a dingy Decepticon barracks with curs who didn't even know the name 'Galvatron'.

It was doomed to happen now.

You failed.

A miserable failure.

You turned to the Sweep, hoping that maybe, just maybe it could help you. It couldn't. It was merely a lowly member of the pack and was following its orders.

"Leave me" You found yourself begging. It didn't, orders were orders.

Powerless to do nothing but to follow it's lead you chanced a glance in the reflective surface of the well-polished walls.

No wonder he didn't recognise you.

The shock made you stumble and the Sweep paused, it's familiar pink energon-stained claws remained upon your spinal strut holding you steadily as you regained balance shuffling towards your reflection.

Paint job, practically gone.

Horns bent and crooked beyond recognition, when did they get so blunt? So worn down? When did one lose a chunk?.

Wing Struts crumpled and worn.

Lines etched deeply into your faceplates.

Oh.

You had vowed to wait an eternity for your chance at redemption.

And you had.

The Sweep carefully moved you away from the wall and you could barely process what was going on let alone protest.

Soon he placed you gently upon a resting chair.

"If It puts your processor at rest, you do have a familiar scent to you" the Sweep finally spoke.

You didn't care and it left.

There was nothing left to do but slowly creak outside to watch the horrible event that caused your misery happen all over again.

Right on cue.

The fighting.

The Sweep swarms dismembering the first few waves of Autobot troopers before many Decepticons even got a chance at them.

The Cannon was rushing to a startup in an attempt to use it before the Autobots got to it.

There was you and Galvatron fighting alongside each other, just as you remember.

In sync, your strikes were perfect and wonderful.

The kind of exhilarating fight for glory you were denied as waited.

Buildings fell and people from both factions whizzed past you.

You were transfixed as it all happened again.

The Space bridge the Autobots had hidden to bring most of their forces through once the attack started began activating again.

The Cannon glowed green as it powered up but Autobot charges detonated at the base and sent it toppling into the bridge.

There you were.

Screaming through the sky, smoke and ashes, watching yourself repeat the event that turned you into a dispirited fool for aeons.

The bridge exploded and the Cannon fired.

Even viewing it from a different angle you saw only what you had seen the first time around.

You watched yourself get enveloped in the explosion and buzzing tachyons and Galvatron… Galvatron got engulfed by a green shaft of energy from the Cannon.

It was worse now.

You saw it happen in full, not just a brief flash before you slipped through time and space.

While you screamed helplessly a few Sweeps quickly grabbed your arms

"Yes, this one is familiar" One spoke a few others muttered something in agreement.

"Let's pull him away before that explosion destroys us all!" You were now being flown away by a small flock of Sweeps.

Watching the smouldering remains where the few survivors still fought.

Maybe you could try to catch a glimpse of Galvatron once more.

Maybe he survived.

He had to have survived.

He couldn't have...

The Cannon might have misfired.

But you couldn't see.

Old weary optics stained by tears and clouded by ash and smoke saw nothing but the battlefield get further and further away as you were brought along with the retreating Decepticons.

Now to live, forever knowing you failed with the one chance you had left.

[lolibat]

How many parts to a whole? Chapter 3

By Lolibat, written for @imey-chan and @syphiria

AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11877003/chapters/26844207

Summary: AU long fic: What if William found out about Solomon’s soul much sooner? The last words of a father he can barely remember translates into a very different life for young William Twining. Gen fic (hinted Solomon/Dantalion as per cannon), cannon compliant, spoilers up to most recent chapter (ch. 89).

"Kevin's been really cold to me lately," William confessed to Solomon, once again having tea at sunset in his dream world. He had been frequenting the world less and less, as the majority of his sleeping time was spent in Solomon's memories nowadays. The more he saw of that life, the more he understand how Solomon became the way he was. He was not envious of the man at all. He began living the man's life through his dreams, now picking up his habits more often than not. Seeing the child version of Solomon was nothing short of heart wrenching, he thought.

"What for?" Solomon asked, engrossed in the text that he must have read a dozen times over.

"I don't know," he confessed. "I thought we cleared up any misunderstandings, that day when Dantalion got summoned here for the first time. I told him I didn't care what he was or who he had been."

Seeing Solomon's confusion, William elaborated hesitantly. "He looks like the angel from your dreams."

The hand resting on the page paused. The man looked at his charge, searching for any deceit. He only saw unguarded confusion in the boy's eyes.

"William," he said seriously, grasping his charge's shoulder. "If they are the same person, then you must be careful of him no matter what." To think that the Kevin that William had often talked about was in fact the same cruel angel who once plagued his last days, Solomon thought darkly.

"Why?" William asked quietly, subdued. He looked a bit baffled yet also resigned.

Seeing the look on his face, Solomon sighed and let go. "His name is Uriel, the Seraph of Penance. He punishes sinners- or whoever turns down heaven's exaltation."

"A person like you?" William asked, having seen Solomon's torturous last days. The king put a hand over his heart, where Uriel's spear pierced it time and time again.

"Like me," Solomon admitted. "I was blessed- no, cursed- with the grace of God. I saw God and was granted wisdom. I regret asking for wisdom, and I thought that surely, heaven must be just. It isn't. I turned to demons instead, and when Uriel came to exalt me to heaven- to sanctify me and turn me into one of heaven's own angels- I refused. I kept refusing as he took away every person I ever loved and came to torment me every day. He was my demise, Uriel. In the end, I refused the exaltation to my dying breath."

William shuddered, one eyes wide. "That can't be the same person!" he refused to believe that his butler would do anything like that when all he has ever known of the man was his kindness. He remembered the warm hand that held him and tugged him up from the ground when he fell. It can't be the same hand that pierced Solomon's heart.

"Let me see then, who he is," Solomon said, holding onto his judgement. He closed the book gently and set it to the side, his attention now focused solely on William

"How do I do that?" William asked.

"Put your hands in mine and think of the Kevin as you know him. Picture him and every detail you can about him. Remember him and what he means to you," Solomon said, soothing William with his words.

Unwilling to concede defeat yet hesitant to face the truth, William did as he was told. He visualized warm summer days in the garden, of laughter in bright lavender eyes and windswept violet hair. He remembered the warmness in his laughter and the gentleness of his touch, the sturdiness of his shoulder as he cried the days after his parents' death, the mischief in his expression as they snuck tarts from the maids and ran away from the stewardess. He remembered how tall the man was and how they had climbed trees one time to reach for an apple- and how he ended up falling on top of the other man. He saw the Kevin who stayed with him despite the rest of his household being dismissed- who maintained his house and would not leave him alone- even to the point of chasing down his missing uncle. This cannot possibly be the same person.

Solomon closed his eyes and absorbed the memories. The transfer was easy, given that they held a closeness two souls rarely have. What he saw was surprising- he saw humanity and warmth in Uriel's cold eyes. Where they were once dead to the world, they now shone with love and affection. It wasn't hard to grow fond of his young charge, but to see even Uriel's cold heart melt... he never thought he would see the day. Perhaps William really was the cause for change.

"Undoubtedly, this person is Uriel." Solomon's words sunk what was left of William's hope.

"Then the real Kevin..." William began, troubled by Solomon's words.

"He is likely alive somewhere- if "Kevin Cecil" is really descended from a long line of reverends, then Uriel would not harm one of his own. Didn't you say he wanted to pursue his education in London?" Solomon analyzed. His ring rested on his hand- it caught the light.

"He did, but he changed his mind after my parents died," William confirmed.

"That's when he replaced the real Kevin," Solomon concluded. "Did it not strike you as odd, that a son of one aristocratic family would lower himself to become a mere steward of another family? Friends as you are, the devotion would not stretch that far."

William looked away.

"But the Uriel I saw in your memories is different from the Uriel you saw in mine," Solomon murmured.

"I noticed as well," William added. "He- what happened to him?" He was aghast.

"I think that should be my question," Solomon rested his head on his hands. "What I remember of him is what most people- demons or angels- remember of him. That is who he is. This now- this is new. All I know is that despite this being very not like him, the joy I see is not fake. All angels feel their emotions strongly- he would not hide such joy. Uriel gambling? I honestly did not think I would see the day."

"So then..." William asked, hope in his voice. Was he still the Kevin that he knew?

"I don't know," Solomon mused. "But whatever the case, you must exercise caution, William. If he's distancing himself from you, then there must be something else he is hiding."

"I hate having to keep secrets like this," William muttered, downcast.

"I know, Child." Solomon looked on with sad eyes. He didn't want to have to keep secrets from William either, but the world seldom asked him what he wanted.

He dreamed of Solomon as a child again tonight. He was very young this time, younger than him. The chains on his ankles were barbaric, William thought and recoiled. Nonetheless, the child sat atop a large tower of books, staring out at the window and longing for freedom.

"I was my father's sin," he whispered. "How much longer do I have to stay here?"

"Solomon, child of sin, don't you want to become king?" A form appeared from the shadows. Dantalion! William gasped silently. He looked the same age as now, only he was dressed differently. Was he really that old?

"King David made Jerusalem prosperous. The only sins he committed were stealing the wife of his loyal vassal, killing the man, and fathering an illegitimate child. You are that child." He leaned in close, one finger on the child Solomon's lips. His wide green eyes met his unflinchingly.

Then, he smiled. "I'm so glad you came. I was just feeling bored. Won't you talk to me? Eminent grand marquis Dantalion? I was really bored you know. So I've decided to start the beginning of the world's nightmare. Won't you join me?" The child asked innocently with a beautiful smile, as if he was not discussing the start of the world's end.

William woke up with a gasp, sweat drenching his body and soaking through the clothes. He clutched at his chest with tremoring fingers.

"A dream, he murmured. He drifted uneasily back to sleep, this time to his dream world.

"The beginning of the world's nightmare, huh?" William asked casually, leaning against the stone wall of the temple. The sunset was ever present in the world. He overlooked the busy Sunday market, with merchants on horses and elephants alike snaking their way through the streets. Beneath them, the city was lively.

Solomon drank his tea calmly not giving any indication that he acknowledged his protege words beyond a flicker of a gaze over to him.

William thought quietly to himself. When he was a child, he called Solomon his father. As he grew, he thought of him as a mentor- and still yet, a very wise one. Yet, the more he sees of Solomon's life, the more he thinks that the great king is just a man. A man sculpted by the circumstances of his life. An apathetic man, a tired man, a man weighted down with wisdom and mistakes.

"I saw one of your meetings with Lucifer. You were saying goodbye to him." William continued, seemingly talking to the air. "Was he fond of you?"

"They all were," he said emptily, apathy filling his gaze. "That's the problem."

"And I'm the solution?" William snapped. "The world's nightmare. Is this the end? Are you happy now, as the curtain draws in a grand finale? The cumulation of a thousand years of planning? The end of the world as we know it- heaven, humanity, hell? Why do you even do this to yourself?" To me, he added in his mind.

"I don't know," the king replied, his words which could refer to any of the questions he stated.

William scoffed, hurt by his mentor's words. The opposite of love is not hate; it's apathy.

"If it means anything, I am sorry that it was you that this happened to," he said, green eyes sad. He brushed back William's hair gently, tucking a flyaway strand behind his ear. He like it was when he was at the elder Swallow's party. His protege truly did look like him that day.

"Liar," William said tiredly. He was weary, bearing a burden passed down to him, a fate written for him before he was even born. Since when did his world get so complicated? He hated that he was helpless in this net- this game of chess that he could do nothing but play, to dance to someone else's tune. He hated his own weakness as he leaned into the touch nonetheless and fell into the embrace that was familiar to him after so many years.

"Will you tell me, at the end?" William asked frankly, a little more than exhausted.

"You'll know everything, at the end." Solomon answered honestly.

"... Stay with me, please?" William asked, a moment of vulnerability showing in the way he gripped Solomon's robes.

"For as long as I can, Child." Solomon replied. He knew that he would not have very much time left. As the memories unravel and their souls bleed into one, there can only be one consciousness ruling in the body, and he prayed dearly that it would not be him.

"Dantalion is right," Kevin said, leaning against one of the many windows in the church. He looked down at the school grounds, looking for any signs of a threat. "You have to be careful- you haven't chosen a king yet."

"But the head boy... he's very punctual to church and never misses a session," William argued. "What sort of demon is religious?"

"It is very unusual that a demon would read the Bible," Kevin wondered. Even Dantalion and Sytry turned their noses up at Sunday service, preferring to "visit their families" instead when they were able.

"For a moment, when I held his arm after the boat race, his hair turned pitch black... and he had dark eyes." William admitted. "Just for a blink of an eye, but I'm sure I saw it."

"No demon may appear in front of Solomon in disguise," Uriel quoted, well versed with the ways of the world. As one of the oldest Archangels, he knew far more than regular seraphs. "Not those of his pillars anyways."

"The underclassmen seem to think that Miss Mollins is a witch as well," he said despondently. His life was really just one roller coaster after another, with trouble coming up endlessly and crisis to be solved. He really did with that the newest batch of underclassmen could just behave themselves for once.

"It's not impossible," Kevin reasoned. Anyone had the potential to turn to religion or witchcraft, and they don't necessarily have to declare it to the world.

"They said they found chalk marks in her room, but that is not solid enough proof to charge someone of such a crime," William shook his head.

"Ever the wise ruler," the reverend half-joked.

"The future Prime Minster ought to be just, don't you think?" William laughed. Suddenly, in a rapidly destabilizing situation between heaven, hell, and humanity, the dream has never meant so little. To uphold his father's wishes... what wishes were they again? They were just words now, a rote reply to a mundane question. The dream has never seemed so far now, but he would strive for it nonetheless. In the back of his mind, he had a feeling that he would never see it come to fruition. In the context of their family's curse, perhaps he would do his family more of a service to end the cycle of rebirth.

Kevin smiled, sending his young master well on his way.

"Geez, these underclassmen!" William shook his head angrily after just having given them a stern lecture and assigned them a hundred lines of Latin each. "To think they would dig through a woman's belongings- let alone the dorm master's- this is a prank gone too far!"

"Young master! Perfect timing!" Kevin rushed up the staircase in a hurry, his robes billowing about him. "Actually, there's something that has been bothering me about Miss Mollins."

"Not you too, Kevin," William sighed.

"She asked me to perform her last rites," Kevin stated. Unusual indeed.

"She's dying?" William gasped. Now he really regretted assigning the little hellions only a hundred lines of Latin. That poor woman!

"William! What are you doing here? The door to the demon world just opened... and Miss Mollins was the one who opened it!" Sytry came down the stairs of the dorm in a rush at the same time.

"Her last rites and a demon summoning..." William murmured to himself. The pieces came together in a snap as the knowledge he gained from years of nighttime reading gave him the answer. "We must stop her!" He rushed down the stairs with Kevin and Sytry barely a step behind her.

"Stop! Ms. Mollins!" William shouted from the edge of the summoning circle. He was out of breath, one hand resting against the trunk of a tree and the other around his aching ribs.

"Can you send away the demon?" William asked Kevin, knowing well that the angel had more than enough power to do so.

"I'm not an excorcist," Kevin denied, keeping with his cover. Internally cursing, William prepared to summon his magic.

Before he could start on his first syllable, the horse demon's great fist came crashing down on his summoner. She flinched but did not move from her position. She extended her neck, ready to face her demise.

Is she mad?! William thought to himself, leaping over the bushes, hoping desperately that he'll get there in time to save her.

He didn't have to bother. A great bang echoed through the quiet woods, and the demon was disintegrated.

"Head boy?" He couldn't help but gasp. Floating in the air, holding Miss Mollins by the waist was head boy, Nathan Cackstone. "Camio?" the name escaped him before he could even process what he had said. Camio, one of Solomon's seventy two pillars and one of the candidates to Lucifer's throne.

The black haired demon spared a glance down at William, knowing since many years back that he was descended from Solomon and not caring in the least.

"You haven't changed at all. You're really strong considering you're only a half demon," Dantalion strode out of the woods with his tie undone and hair in its usual mess.

"Be quiet, you damn nephilim! You're just a demon abandoned by humanity!" Camio snarled, fangs bared. In his defense, Dantalion did not look taken back by the insult at all. He merely rubbed his neck and raised an eyebrow at the statement.

"A bit hypocritical of you, Camio, considering that you were the one who wanted to turn this woman into a nephilim." He flinched.

"Camio, the fifty-third pillar and commander of thirty armies..." William muttered, his voice sounding far away even to him. Dantalion glanced at him and noticed the look in his eyes was less William and more Solomon. Since when did William get to be so much like Solomon?

"He had history with Solomon too..." William noted. "Or rather, it's the other way around. He's uneasy."

Dantalion's gaze narrowed and looked away, well aware of Camio's infamous criminal record towards the last of Solomon's days. It was a grudge that he had yet to settle. While heaven was busy using Uriel to punish Solomon, hell used Camio to lure Solomon's loved ones into purgatory.

Now looking at the love in Camio's eyes, he couldn't imagine the demon being anything but human, William thought. The Camio Solomon remembered was always lonely and sad, a quiet shadow away from the other demons. Even in his crime- even though Solomon knew- he could never blame the demon. Perhaps humanity is frail- its people foolish and deluded and misguided- but humans bring forth great change by themselves. Their lifespans are limited, and in its limitation comes a rush for change and progression that immortals would not otherwise have thought of.

"I'm dying, Camio," Maria Mollins said tearfully. "You never came to me. I remember what you said- that if I came to hell and became a demon, I might be able to see you again."

"I couldn't have you involved in my world," he said, looking down.

"I know- that's why I returned to the school. I didn't know where to go or what to do- I don't belong in the human world anymore," she said, leaning into Camio's hold. The demon hugged her tightly, not letting go.

"If you became a demon and stayed by my side..." he started.

"No, don't become a nephilim," Dantalion interrupted the couple sharply. "She only has a few years left as a human. Let her die as a human, if you still have a human heart left, Camio." He was completely serious, and Camio knew it too.

"Is there not anyone else you can be with, Camio?" Maria asked.

"No, there hasn't been anyone else since I was born... not since Solomon," he held her tight, grief evident in the lines of his body.

For a moment, William saw into another of Solomon's memories. There, atop a pile of demon corpses at twilight, was Camio, holding a bloody blade in his hands. The desert wind whipped around them, blood soaked sands filling the air with the stench of death. Solomon barely blinked at the gory scene before him, striding up to the half demon with a gentile smile on his face. He paid his ivory robes no mind as they became streaked with rust red.

"Do you really hate demons so much? Even though you have demon blood running through your veins? Become mine. If you do, then no one will deny you- neither demons nor humans. Not even God..." Solomon whispered, tempting the demon into his embrace. Slowly as if luring a great beast, Camio laid down his blade and descended to the ground.

Solomon was truly a manipulator of the greatest degree, William thought. As a spectator, he saw that the demons loved and hated him in equal measures, bound by their contract yet attracted to the God-touched man like a moth to flame. The can't help doing so- the man saw through their weaknesses and used them to his greatest advantage. His power lie not in that he bound seventy two demons, but in that he earned the undying loyalty of each and every single one, whether they wanted to give it or not.

"There, atop a mountain of corpses... Do you really hate demons so much?" William intoned, his voice far away. Camio's head snapped up, his eyes wide. He didn't know that William held Solomon's memories already. Solomon? Perhaps he wasn't quite as dead as he thought.

"I may not be Solomon," William shook his head to clear the images, "but won't you stay here? Head Boy? Miss Mollins?"

"Maria..." Camio said uncertainly. She looked at him and laughed, the joy in her eyes making her seem younger than her age.

"You do have a lot of friends now, Camio," she said, smiling up at him.

"Yes, but please do take care of yourself, Miss Mollins- for his sake?" William asked gently, holding out his hand.

"You're right," she said and took his hand.

"Tomorrow is the night of Walpurgis, when the demon world's power is at its height," Solomon said, flipping a page on the book in his lap.

"It is," William sighed. "And I presume everyone will be wanting to find me?" He was only prime target, the elector to Lucifer's throne. In the back of his mind, he had a sinking feeling that what Lucifer planned was far different from what everyone else thought.

"You had best hide, Child," Solomon chuckled. It was unbecoming of the child to hide away from his troubles with him. He was far too grown for that now.

"It's your fault," William said accusingly. There was very little in his life that wasn't Solomon's fault, one way or the other.

"But of course," the man smiled back irritatingly. "But worry not- you still have all seventy two of my demons to call on, even if they are a world away attending their parties. They'll come if you call. You have their sigils."

"I know they will," William picked up a book from the pile and opened to a random page. It was a book written in Latin on the treatises between God and its people. A stiff necked people, as the Bible often described them. "But I won't use them."

"Won't you rely on their power?" He prodded gently. "They are at your disposal- all of them. You only have to ask."

William shook his head, not falling to the tempting words. "What good is relying on their power, if I can't prove that I am deserving of it? God helps those who helps themselves, and even if I have turned my back against him- the principles remain the same. I will not rely on another's power anymore than I absolutely have to."

"Wise words," Solomon agreed. "So hide you shall then, hm?"

"Hiding it is," he sighed. "One has to know when retreating is the wisest choice. There is no honor in a meaningless death."

"Just for now," he concurred. The plans he made will move forward, though it pains him to see that William be the incarnation to see it to the end, he can't help but think that it is a stroke of luck that the boy the most headstrong incarnation he has seen thus far and the most capable one. If it was William's father, he would have been consumed by Solomon's soul entirely. As it was, William might not follow the same fate.

"I sensed a demon in the play," William said to Solomon one day. The night of Walpurgis was a disaster, as Solomon predicted. He hid, but hiding didn't do him any good. The moment he stepped outside the dormitory, he was mobbed by a legion of demons entering the human world to hunt for him.  It was only thanks to his three demons that the dormitory was not leveled altogether.

"Ophelia and King Claudius?" Solomon said jokingly. From the world of dreams, William was able to reproduce the books he had read, as he remembered them. Thus, Solomon's world of knowledge grew wider to include the scopes and science and classic literature far beyond his time. It was fascinating, how humans evolved and constantly tested the boundaries of God- to uncover the secrets they had no rights to- the secrets that govern life and death.

"No, not them," William laughed, remembering how Sytry had messed up his lines on purpose. Solomon laughed with him- Sytry grew up to be a beautiful demon indeed, even though he knew that the fallen angel was no such thing. "It was someone in the audience- I sensed it. I couldn't pinpoint who, but it wasn't the Head Boy either. It's a demon I don't know. I barely caught it- when I turned to look, the presence was gone again."

The sensing game was one that Solomon had been training William in, as of late. He needed to sharpen his senses, to be alert and wary of demon presence around him. He was quite adept in the more advanced magics and practiced the spells diligently- both in the dream world and in reality. His life did depend quite heavily on it.

"They were masking their presence then?" Solomon asked, idly wondering which one of the demons it was this time.

"Most probably," William said. "How troublesome," he sighed.

"I never took you for the lazy type, Child," Solomon ruffled William's hair, and the teen didn't stop him.

"I'm not, but it really is troublesome, this whole situation."

Well, troublesome was one way to describe it, though it irked him to see four hundred years of planning summed up with "troublesome", Solomon thought. It was just like his incarnation to call it such.

"William! It's terrible! I'm going to fail!" Isaac wailed, clutching his interim report.

"I don't really care," the teenager looked through his own report with apathetic eyes. He got straight A's, as expected. "If you cared more about your grades, you should spend less time on the occult stuff. It's too late to be making a fuss about that now anyway since the results of your exams come from a daily habit of studying."

"That's what a successful person would say!" Isaac sniffled. "Be kind to those who aren't successful too!"

Used to being the top of his class, William couldn't care less. He would be kind when he stood on the top of the world. Until then, he'll step over anyone who gets in his way with ruthless determination.

"But you might not be the top student this time," Isaac pointed out.

"What?" William asked, his daydream of being prime minister momentarily disappearing. "Who's that?" He followed Isaac's gaze.

"You really don't pay attention to anyone else, do you?" he deadpanned.

"I don't make a habit of associating with people who bring no benefit to me," William declared haughtily, every inch the noble that he is.

Isaac sighed. "His name is Elliot Eden. He's from a middle class family, like me. He's always absent from school due to poor health, so I suppose you wouldn't know him."

"Huh," William said inarticulately.

"Do you really not remember his name? He came in just a couple places below you for the last Latin exam," Isaac pointed out.

"No, I don't recall." It bothered William far more than he thought; he had never heard of the name Elliot Eden in his life, let alone that of a top student. How did this person suddenly appear? And how did everyone but him know of this person?

"Would you happen to be William Twining?" The subject of their talk walked over to their end of the study room, a thick tome tucked under one arm.

"Don't you recognize your prefects?" William snapped, still uneasy at the sudden appearance of this stranger.

"I apologize- I'm not here very often, so I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with my classmates," he said with a gentle tilt of his head. Odd, considering how his classmates seemed to know him well enough.

"Is there something you want?" William hedged, eager to end the conversation.

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm aiming for your spot in the next exams. Do study well- if you make excuses later on, it won't be fun, right?" The sickly teen grinned and walked off, uncaring of William's venomous glare following him out.

"Isaac," William said in a monotone. "You're going to help me study!"

"Eh?!" The poor boy eeped at the flames that seemingly appeared behind him. The flames of ambition burn brightly indeed.

"Do you remember a boy in our year named Elliot Eden?" William asked Dantalion casually. A full day of classes had come to an end, and he was once again winding down his day with one of Bapthomet's cakes.

"No," the demon frowned. He paused in his eating. Human food was truly atrocious- he didn't regret turning Amon and Mamon into delivery bats. "Why do you ask?"

As much as he hated to admit it, the demons had better memory than he did- purely on the basis that they are supernatural and ancient. "I've never seen or heard of this person in my life before, but Isaac swears that he came in a couple places below me for our last exams. Everyone I've talked to seem to know him even though he claims he's sickly and hardly visits the school."

That is very suspicious, Dantalion thought.

"And he challenged me for my valedictorian spot!" William exclaimed, angry that the other would even dare to test him.

"Ah, I see what the issue is now," Dantalion said, holding back a laugh. Pride was always a sore point with William. It is nice to see such liveliness every once in a while, even if the mortal's anger did nothing to faze him. It was amusing, pretending that his anger had any real bearing on the way things were run.

"He feels uneasy to me," William said with a sigh, sitting back down. "I can't explain it, but he feels... off. He's charming and sociable and smart, and his uncle is an ambassador in China. He wants to be a lawyer and the Prime Minister before forty. He has grand ambitions like me. I'm sure we would get along well if not for exams, but something just feels... off."

After the episode with Reverend Crossby, Dantalion learned not to dismiss William's odd feelings off the bat.

"And Solomon?" Dantalion asked, cutting himself another slice of cake.

William shook his head. "Nothing- he doesn't know this person."

So it isn't any of the pillars. "What does he look like then?" Perhaps he should do some digging, to see if this Eden is a demon... or perhaps...?

"He has shoulder length white hair and red eyes, around my age," William said succinctly.

"Did you say white hair?" Dantalion startled.

"Yes," William said, confused as to why white hair would alarm Dantalion. Sytry's hair was almost the same shade, and he had no problems with it. "Or a very pale blond."

"I can't be certain, but you're probably better off asking Sytry about this. I'll do some investigating on my own, of course," Dantalion carded his hand through his hair, uneasy but unwilling to tell William of his suspicions before he had a chance to confirm them.

"What do you want to ask me?" Sytry said from beside William, his mouth stuffed with cake.

"Speak of the devil!" William nearly jumped out of his chair in surprise at Sytry's sudden appearance.

"I'm not him...yet. Unless you'd choose me?" Sytry asked slyly, leaning very close to William. He could feel the demon's breath, the iridescent eyes staring intently into his own.

"No, obviously he is going to choose me!" Dantalion bristled at their closeness as Sytry smiled.  William blinked and pushed his chair back.

"Elliot Eden!" William interrupted them before they could continue their age old argument.

"What...?" Sytry refrained from leaping at the other demon.

"There's a student named Elliot Eden here. He's in my year, with white hair and red eyes. I don't remember him, but everyone else does, and I don't know why," William said in a rush. "He's charismatic and smart, but something just seems odd about him. He's very interested in what I find important."

Sytry paled at the description, all jokes forgotten. There was only one sort of creature that would fit that particular description.

"Like your grades?" Dantalion teased fondly.

William flushed. "Not just that- he keeps giving me hypothetical scenarios like Noah's ark... And he keeps asking me to choose between what is right and what is important. It's all very strange- you wouldn't ask a random stranger those sort of questions."

"He's forcing you to answer?" Sytry murmured, lavender eyes narrow in thought.

William nodded. "I'm not sure why- I get along with him well enough when he talks to me, but the sense of oddness only comes back when he's away."

Dantalion and Sytry looked at each other. It looks like Heaven has finally made their move.

"Stay well away from this person, William," Sytry said seriously. Perhaps even we will not be a match, he thought, one hand touching his shoulder blades.

"Head Boy!" William gasped, seeing the man from behind the bars of his punishment room. "I thought I wasn't allowed visitors!"

"You're not," he said sternly. "Do you have any idea who did this?"

"Then you do believe me!" William exclaimed, feeling touched. Even if he knew that logically, the head boy was a demon, William Twining would always remember him as the head boy he looked up to.

"You didn't cheat, did you?" he shrugged. "Things like this happen from time to time even though they shouldn't."

There was one person who William immediately thought of even though the situation didn't make any sense. "The handwriting does look familiar, but I'm not sure where I have seen it... Head boy- there's something I need to ask you. You're the representative of the middle class, right?"

"Yes..." he said, not sure where William was going with this and why he was wasting time on a matter that wasn't related to his grades, at a time like this.

"Have you heard of a middle classed student named Elliot Eden in my year? He has shoulder length straight white hair and red eyes..." William said hesitantly.

When he looked up, he was sure that it wasn't Nathan Cackstone he was speaking to anymore- it was Camio.

"... Tell me more about this person, William," he said seriously.

And he did. Elliot's words rang in his mind. If he had to choose between heaven and hell, who which would he choose?

With a snap of his fingers, Isaac's locket's opened, and they were transported to an odd world of checkers.

"Isaac! Where are we? What did you do?!" William shot his friend by his collar, once again stuck in an alternative dimension with no means out.

"Ahhh! It's not like that! I only thought I'd call on the Angel Michael for some help!" His friend blabbered.

"Ah, it makes me so angry that you interrupted right then. I wanted to hear your true feelings," a familiar voice said.

"Elliot? You...!" William gasped as the being stalked closer to him. He knew something was odd about that boy! The floor rippled as he did so even though his feet never touched the ground.

"No, I wasn't the one who framed you," the boy shrugged, not in the least like his usual self. "I don't do things like that. But it's more interesting this way, right?"

"What are you talking about?" William said shakily, taking a couple of hesitant steps back. He was saved by Sytry, who appeared in a a bang and slashed Elliot across the torso.

"What an annoying interruption," the boy said darkly as white feathered wings burst from his back. He was clearly unhurt- his clothes weren't even torn in the least.

"As I thought, you're an angel," Sytry snarled, intimidated. He knew that he was no match for the archangel, but he had to buy time until Dantalion can get through the barrier.

A pool of golden light appeared in Elliot's palm, and a golden sword embedded with jewels stretched between his two hands.

"The golden Unsheathed Sword!" Isaac crowed. "Then he really is the Chief of Angels, Archangel Michael! The one who resembles God, the commander of the divine armies!"

William grew pale. "Of all angels you had to summon, you had to summon him, Isaac!" He shook his friend by the collar again. If I die, I'll curse you with my dying breath, William thought in a panic. In the back of his mind, he could hear his beloved mentor laughing at his misfortune.

When he turned his back, Michael seized him by the throat, lifting him high into the air. He could feel himself bob up and down in the air, held by a pair of white wings. "Humans really are shameless. God thought to give you his grace instead of us angels, and this is how you'll repay him? How ungrateful. Don't you remember what happened to the country you created, Solomon, son of David, King of Israel? No? Well then I'll take your soul to heaven myself! You ought to be honored- not many people have this chance!"

"Summon me to heaven?" William grew panicked. His air sickness was beginning to kick in, and his nausea grew. His magic would not come to him now, with his panic- not that it would do any good.

"I'm going to kill you of course," the angel grinned. "I wouldn't be doing this, but he grew rather fond of you, you see."

"But why would he be doing this?" Isaac asked Sytry from the sideline. He could do nothing but observe in fear. "Elliot has been at Stratford for a long time!"

"Michael has likely taken over his body. Even if they aren't in their true forms, seraphs like him hold enough power to destroy armies with a sweep of their hands," Sytry shook his head. "Even I can't help him- our ranks are too different."

"That can't be..." Isaac lamented his friend's imminent demise.

"Ah yes, perhaps I'll take you back too, Sytry," Michael said as an afterthought. "You want to meet her, don't you? You didn't fall this way out of your own choice. You're both good boys," he cooed. "Good that you're smart enough not to defy the representative of God delivering judgement in his name!"

The statement clearly struck a nerve with Sytry as he looked away, hands clenched tight, stress creases around his eyes deepening.

William closed his eyes tightly- is this how he will die? No! He refuses to go to heaven! Not if heaven is like this! Someone- anyone! Just as Michael's sword was about to come down on him, a strong pair of arms pulled him back. His vision faded, and he heard Solomon's voice in his mind. He felt a pair of soft hands over his face, the cool touch of a silver ring over his eye.

"... This is not my ideal solution, but I'll take over for a while, William. Rest well, Child."

"You took your time, Dantalion," Solomon said, his back turned to the demon. He was still in the demon's embrace, and he made no move to get away. He was quite comfortable where he was, thank you very much.

"Sorry, William. That was a damn complicated barrier that he put up." Dantalion said, his gaze focused on the archangel. "... William?" He asked he when he didn't get the acerbic reply he expected. The boy didn't struggle as usual either.

Instead, William got up, dusted himself off calmly and turned to face Dantalion. His gaze was vacant and apathetic.

"It's nice to see you again," he smiled gently. "Thanks for fulfilling my last wish."

"Solomon...!" Dantalion breathed, all thoughts forgotten. His past had caught up to him yet again. The man smiled his damnable smile again- the one that could mean a million things at once. The demon noticed that even the way he held himself in William's body was different, with an unearthly grace that the boy didn't have.

"So, you are Michael, Lucifer's elder brother. It's nice to finally meet you." Solomon slowly walked up calmly to the angel bearing a golden sword with empty hands.

"Solomon, hm? Sneaky William- to think that I thought you had no memories of your ancestor," the angel glared down at the one who dared to refuse God, fury burning his scarlet eyes.

"I'm afraid William isn't here at the moment. All this excitement has tired him out quite terribly. The poor child is resting." Solomon said placidly. "Won't you come down from here? Or would you prefer that I make you?" His green eyes grew sharp and focused. Despite his power, Michael shivered. Is this the power of God's grace? To think that a mortal would dare to make him feel such trepidation.

"Is that..." Sytry asked hesitantly, floating over to Dantalion. He had no wings of his own, yet flight was well within his powers.

"That's Solomon," Dantalion said grimly. He held a hand over Isaac's shocked face, and the boy fainted. "It's better if he doesn't remember any of this."

"How can this be...?" Sytry asked, disbelieving. Solomon was a thousand years dead! He too, had quite a bit of past with the magician in question.

"William let him take over," Dantalion replied dully, observing Michael and Solomon tensely.

"William let him?" Sytry echoed. Why would he do so?

"You never did give me a proper answer," Michael said, covering his nervousness with bravery after a moment of unease.

"William never did, did he?" Solomon tilted his head gently. "What do you think?" He smiled, hands at his side and appearing to be completely benevolent.

"I'm asking you, not him!" Michael snarled, a ball of energy forming in one hand, temper spent.

"If you're asking me, then shouldn't you already know the answer?" Solomon replied, his eyes piercing. The smile never left his face even as Dantalion leapt into action and blocked the attack. He never had to lift even a finger.

"Don't get in my way, Demon!" Michael yelled, forming more balls of fire. Never the one to back down from a challenge, Dantalion replied with plenty of power of his own. The two dueled in midair, far away from the magician who stood firmly on the ground.

"Such good children I have," Solomon chuckled and watch the angel fall from the air a particularly powerful energy blast from Dantalion.

"Solomon, you...!" Sytry confronted his summoner, an angry flush bright on his pale cheeks. "What have you done with William?" His bright blue eyes were panicked and worried.

"Nothing. My protege is sleeping right now. He'll remember this later, when I show it to him in his dreams," Solomon smiled and patted Sytry on the head patronizingly. "You've grown very beautiful, Sytry. Thanks for looking after William for me."

Sytry brushed away his hand, hating himself all the more.

"I heard what Michael said," the king said, instead putting a hand on Sytry's shoulder. "There's more to the story than what that angel knows. You should ask your uncle sometime before you draw any conclusion. He never did tell you what happened when he fell, did he?" Confused and disoriented, Sytry did nothing but to look away.

He said no more on the topic and turned to see Dantalion stepping none-so-gently on the seraph's pristine wings and dug in his heels.

"Noli me tangere! (Don't touch me!)" the angel gasped, kneeling on the floor in defeat.

"A person like you doesn't even deserve to go to purgatory," Dantalion said, staring down at the angel cruelly. This was the commander of armies that slaughtered dozens of his kin, back when he was still a god. There will be vengeance. He was about to finish the angel off when another appeared.

"You," he said flatly. He knew that William treasured his butler, and fighting two angels of presence at the same time would be troublesome no matter how weakened they both were. But mostly it was because William would be upset if his faithful Butler disappeared, no matter what he did to Solomon in the past. "Stand aside- I don't want to fight you."

"I can't do that," Uriel said, holding up a cross. Dantalion raised a silencing barrier with hand, forgetting that William was not quite himself at the moment.

"Oh?" Solomon said lightly, observing the newcomer. With languid strides, Solomon left Sytry and walked up to the barrier. He put one hand against it, and it melted under his fingers like wax. No barrier was going to keep him out- not that it would do Dantalion any good since William already knew.

"William?" Kevin asked hesitantly, knowing full well that the Young Master should not know enough magic to undo Dantalion's barrier.

"William's safe for the moment, Uriel," Solomon smiled, looking at the angel. "He's sleeping. However, it was awfully careless of you to leave him alone with Michael like that."

Uriel gasped. His heart sank. "Solomon!" The magician almost chuckled. It seems like no one was quite happy to see him at all.

"You look well, Uriel," the man said and looked coldly at the angel lying on the destroyed floor. "You've changed so much. William is good for you."

"How are you even alive?" Uriel asked, shocked. He put a hand on his shoulder, feeling the phantom ache of his missing wings. And where has his young master gone? Has he been devoured by Solomon's soul, like countless others before him?

"I've heard a lot about Kevin from William. He loves you a lot, you know," Solomon said, ignoring Uriel's question altogether. "Do you understand what I said now, Uriel?"

He waves a finger, and the floor under Michael began knitting itself together. The angel was pulled up slowly by Solomon's spells, supported by invisible strings in the air. Even with the support, he held a hand to his shoulder gingerly.

"Please return to heaven," Uriel pleaded with Michael, hesitant to question Solomon further with Michael there, listening and watching with keen eyes. "I'm sure you came here without telling Raphael."

Michael scoffed. "Raphael. He wouldn't even notice if I disappeared. I suppose I don't have much of a choice- this human body isn't going to last for much longer." He rose, the wings on his back lifting hm up into the air once more.

"That's right- I still haven't gotten my answer, William Twinning," Michael said from the air, staring past Solomon and to William. "I'll come back again."

"I look forward to your visit," Solomon said placidly and waved him off in clear dismissal.

The world dissolved with Michael's exit, and Solomon turned to Uriel.

"I'll wake William up now. Do take care of him in my place, Uriel," he said to the angel as he let his charge's body collapse into Uriel's waiting arms.

"I'm becoming more like you," William said in his dream world. He looked in the mirror every day, and with each passing day, he could see himself shifting, his features growing older, his eyes a bit paler, the smile on his face a bit less like his own. He saw his own old photographs, the difference was far more evident then.

"So you are." Solomon did wonder when the child genius would pick up on the difference.

"Is it because of what happened with Michael?" He got the memories from that day. While it hurt him to receive confirmation that his butler was not what he seemed, it was better to know the truth earlier.

"No, it's not that," Solomon replied after a while. It was inevitable, this process. With every memory they shared, their souls grew closer. Souls are not solid. They're not distinct object with boundaries. They meld together, like liquid running into each other.

William looked hard at Solomon. The man seemed younger, his gaze a bit darker, his hair a bit more golden.

"You're becoming me," he realized in horror and took a step back. No, he thought. This can't be!

"I am," Solomon smiled sadly. "I think you understand why I wouldn't want to be myself anymore."

"But that doesn't mean you can just be me instead!" William shouted, half hysterical at this point.

"Would you rather I fade away completely then? That is the alternative." Solomon asked calmly. It was almost eerie, seeing features of himself- features that his mother and father passed onto him- reflected back on another's face.

"No! Of course not!" Losing his mentor was not an option; William was horrified at the mere thought. It was like losing his parents all over again.

"Then why do you complain?" Solomon asked patiently in return.

"I..." William hesitated, not knowing what to feel anymore. He didn't know what to think. Everything- all this was incomprehensible to him. What theory of atoms can possibly explain this? In this world so far away from his own realm of science, is there even anything tha

"I don't want to lose myself," he decided. He wouldn't run away- not from this and not from anything else. Even if his life turns into a disaster, William Twining is not a person who runs away.

"With some luck, you won't have to," Solomon said. He rose and knelt down by his charge. He remembered the bright six year old whose laughter lit up the halls with joy. The same youth who would stick out his tongue when he was concentrating, who once singed the lion's tail with a spell gone wrong. He didn't want to lose that brilliance either. "You're doing very well already, William. Far better than most."

Most would have perished already, their entire being drowned and swallowed up in Solomon's soul, their identity shredded and forgotten.

[arcflam-arcanum787-blog]

Let’s Talk! Danganronpa: Can Monaca Be Redeemed? (Analysis of Monaca Towa, as well as plot elements of UDG and DR3).

      The last article I posted on this blog was about the NG codes. I was mostly satisfied with it, but then decided that for my next article I’d like to talk more about a character rather than a simple, terrible plot device, as well as it being more positive and less of a rant. As I thought about it, there is ONE character in the Danganronpa series I really wanted to discuss. She has been dubbed as “Green Satan” or “Pickle Satan” by the fan-base and is generally seen as a completely despicable and unlikable character. Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s talk about Monaca Towa. (WARNING! Spoilers for Danganronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls and Danganronpa 3: The End of Hope’s Peak Academy - Future Arc are included in this article).

Okay, seriously. WHY does her hair look so much like pickles?

      Monaca Towa was first introduced to us in Danganronpa Another Episode: Ultra Despair Girls as one of the main antagonists of the game alongside the Warriors of Hope. However, as the story progresses she is revealed to simply be manipulating the other Warriors of Hope to further her own schemes of continuing Junko’s legacy, all while pretending it to be for a “Kid only paradise”. Throughout the first two chapters of the game, she comes off as an annoying, manipulative brat who gets whatever she wants by crying and screaming. From Chapter 3 and onward however, her character gets significantly more dark and cruel. After triggering Kotoko Utsugi’s PTSD on purpose, she physically assaults her in order to instill her authority. In Chapter 4 she sexually assaults Nagisa Shingetsu after she told him her true goals and plan, triggering his PTSD by placing an expectation on him.

      Once the final chapter rolls around Komaru Naegi and Toko Fukawa, the protagonists, finally confront her in Towa Hills. After she is defeated she offers Komaru the controller which she used to brainwash all the other kids in Towa City, then plays mind games with her by constantly alternating between “Break the controller” and “Don’t break the controller”. If the player chooses to break the controller, a bad ending ensues. Choosing to not break the controller constantly reveals Monaca’s true goal: To turn Komaru Naegi into the second Junko Enoshima, which she can only accomplish if Komaru breaks the controller. Breaking the controller would cause the brainwashing helmets that the kids were wearing to explode, the footage of which Monaca would then send to Future Foundation. This would ensure a war taking place between Towa and Future Foundation where Komaru is played out to be the perpetrator of the whole incident. This scenario is avoided in the good ending and Monaca, who was revealed to be faking her disability in order to come off as a pitiful figure, gets her legs crushed under some rumble in an ironic twist of fate. Would it not have been for Nagito Komaeda saving her life, she would have perished.

A face only a mother could love…

      Monaca Towa returns in Danganronpa 3: The End of Hope’s Peak Academy – Future Arc, as an antagonist for the first seven episodes. She murdered Miaya Gekkogahara, who was the head of the 7th branch in the Future Foundation, the former Ultimate Therapist, and one of the creators of the Neo World Program. Monaca later created a robotic doppelgänger of the real Miaya and took her place in Future Foundation, acting as a “lurker” since all she wanted to do was see Makoto Naegi up close. Apart from that, she played no real major role in the story of Danganronpa 3 and by the end of episode 7, she had grown bored of both hope and despair. Nagito’s constant psychopathic ramblings about despair and hope to try and get her to be the second Junko Enoshima ended up having the opposite effect on her, viewing both as far too complicated for her to understand. She leaves Earth and went to live in space as a NEET, abandoning everything that she had worked up to prior to this point and essentially “leaving the series”.

Monaca – “Later losers, I’m gonna head into space before episode 9 airs and the fan-base riots.”

      I find this to be not only an incredible waste of a perfectly good antagonist, but just a character in general. After everything that happened, THIS is how the Ultra Despair Girls side story ends? This is Komaru and Toko’s grand finale? Monaca just launching herself into space for no other reason other than because she’s bored? Wow. Now look, the “because I’m bored” excuse, may have worked for Junko in most cases, but it does not work here. This was just lazy, lazy writing to try and write Monaca out of the story so the writers could focus on their Future Foundation massacre game. In the end, Danganronpa 3 not only made Danganronpa 2 feel hollow, but it also made Ultra Despair Girls feel like a completely unnecessary side-plot that ultimately doesn’t affect the outcome of the series in any remotely meaningful way. The writer’s choice to eject Monaca from the plot? They effectively ejected Ultra Despair Girls form the time-line.

      Now that I’ve gotten that out of the way let’s move on to the real, main topic that I wanted to discuss in this article. Can Monaca be redeemed? While she has done some incredibly horrible things I feel there is one point people need to remember: She’s still a kid. Now I do not mean that Monaca’s actions in UDG and DR3 should be excused just because she’s a child. What I mean is that as she gets older both physically and mentally, she’s going to realize that there’s more to life than hope and despair. If I’m being completely honest with you I really don’t think it’s going to take long for her to realize that. Monaca is a genius, being named the chief executive of the Towa Group Robotics Branch at such a young age and inventing countless combat mechs and robots. As Komaru said after Monaca launched herself into space in episode 7, doing nothing is a form of despair in itself and Monaca is sick of both Hope and Despair. She’s eventually going to realize the error in her judgement and come back down to Earth.

      Though how she actually plans to get down from space is anyone’s guess…

Nope. That’s not Monaca’s hideout. That’s Monaka’s hideout. Big difference.

      Alright, so let’s say that Ultra Despair Girls got a sequel. Let’s say Monaca did realize where she went wrong and wanted to atone. Well, she’s going to have a lot of apologizing ahead of her, specifically to her fellow Warriors of Hope. Nagisa honestly, I don’t think would be as angry with her. In episode 7 of Future Arc, despite everything Monaca has done he still considers her a friend or perhaps even more than a friend. Why else would he, and the other former Warriors of Hope choose to remain in Towa City after everything that has happened? Nagisa still cares about her. Kotoko on the other hand, is probably going to take some time to warm up to her. She was furious with Monaca at the end of UDG, rightfully so after all. As for Masaru and Jataro, I don’t see either as the type to really hold a grudge. However, I also don’t see them warming up to Monaca that quickly either. Nagisa would be there for her (Especially considering that her actually being paralyzed now is incredibly likely), Masaru and Jataro would feel odd or conflicted about it, while Kotoko just straight up will not approve of her at all at first.

      Then we have Haiji… Yeah. Good luck. It’s clearly shown at the end of Ultra Despair Girls that he’s straight up fallen into despair and lost his mind, seemingly becoming apathetic towards everything. In order for him to forgive her, he’s going to have to go through some sort of therapy to help get him sane again. After that, he can work on building a gradual re-connection to his little half-sister. It sounds crazy I know, but considering Haji’s story never did reach proper conclusion his character arc is still open. Now while I did say that Monaca will have to apologize to Haiji, he’s also going to have to apologize to her. Haji along with his father were abusive to Monaca in the past for no reason whatsoever. He considered her an “alien” and a “mistake”. The fact that it took her to fake getting paralyzed is honestly pretty sad and really shows just how much they did not care about her in the slightest. A gradual re-connection between family members would be sweet to see. If Monaca does decide to atone for what she’s done, I really don’t think she’s going to hold a grudge against her brother.

      Aside from Komaru and Toko obviously, another person she’s going to have to apologize is Hina. It is very obvious in episode 8 that Hina showed some sort of spite or jealousy when Makoto interacted with Komaru, hinting that she knows about her brother’s fate in Towa City and was likely hit pretty hard at his unfortunate death. Monaca was indirectly the one responsible for Yuta’s death and as such, will have to apologize to Hina. Makoto will be another person she would have to apologize to if his and Komaru’s parents really are deceased (which honestly, I think they are).

Monaca – “I have the key to your porn stash. Do what I say or I leak it all over social media~”

      In conclusion, I realize that a lot of what I brought up in this article may be trivial considering that the Hope’s Peak Academy Saga has “officially ended” (though who knows how honest they really are about that). However, I and many others were disappointed to see Ultra Despair Girls, Komaru and Toko’s story, receive such an anti-climactic and unsatisfying conclusion. Even if the Hope’s Peak Academy Saga is over I still hope that one day they go back and touch on some minor plot holes and nitpicks that Danganronpa 3 left untouched. I want to see a true conclusion to Komaru and Toko’s, Monaca’s, Haiji’s, and the other Warriors of Hope’s character arcs. Honestly, I think it’s very likely that Monaca, Nagisa, Kotoko, Jataro and Masaru could all end up attending the new Hope’s Peak once it��s rebuilt since they obviously won’t be staying in Towa for the rest of their lives and never received a proper education past elementary level (Aside from maybe Nagisa). I really do think that Ultra Despair Girls deserved better than this, no, FANS deserved better than this.

      That concludes this little character analysis of Monaca Towa. This one was a bit less ranty than my previous article, but this was still something I really wanted to talk about. What do you think about Monaca? Do you like her? Hate her? (Probably most people). Did you agree or disagree with what I said? Feel free to let me know and have a good day!

                                                                                                                ~Arcanum