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yodawgiherd · 4 years ago

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The Duality of Man

RATING: E

>>>Read on AO3<<<

No prompt or anything, just felt like flexing my E-rated muscle Short BDSM EM story for your viewing pleasure - if smut isn't your cup of tea then I suggest avoiding it for the sake of your mental health ^^ (another story that is def. in the main fic universe, just doesn't really fit the narrative right now)

It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was high in the sky, illuminating everything with its warm rays, the birds were singing, people were enjoying these gifts from the earth. Yet, as it always is, there were certain places where the sun did not shine, such as the room Eren was sitting in.

Then again, in his case it was better to have the shutters closed, because he didn’t want an audience right now. The things that were happening were better to be enjoyed with just the two people involved.

Taking a sip of the whiskey in his hand, Eren leaned into the gentle hug of the leather, the chair being exactly as comfortable as one can physically be. He, in his arrogance, ignored the beautiful day outside, as his eyes were trained on another prize, and it would be a lie to say that it wasn’t quite a spectacle as well.

It would also be rude not to pay attention, as his kitten was trying so, so hard.

The Sybian saddle was a powerful machine, and watching it wreck Mikasa’s shop was a sight. Or, to be exact, her riding it was the sight – the machine was only a part of the whole picture. It began on the top, where the cat ears were sitting snuggly nestled into her midnight hair, now matted with sweat. Her sharp grey eyes were hidden from him by the blindfold, but that was a trade Eren was willing to take. Down over her pretty, pretty face that was contorted not only in the pleasure from the Sybian but also by the big black ball gag between her teeth, drool glistening as it trickled down her chin. Some of it dribbled down to her collar, adorned by a cute little jingle bell.

It jingled as her body trembled, and that was so fucking hot.

Down still and now Eren was staring at her perfect tits, decorated with metal clamps on the hardened nipples. The silver chain connecting these two only added to the artistic value of the whole set. Mikasa's hands were submissively clasped behind her head, held in place by no bondage but her master’s word. Eyes sliding down, Eren took a sip of the whiskey, taking in the place where the magic happened.

Mikasa was kneeling on the ground, legs very wide apart, most of her weight resting on the saddle-shaped sex toy. It was hard to call it “resting” considering how much it wrecked her - the machine was turned on quite a high setting, the vibrations stimulating the poor girl’s sex at a brutal rate.

And because Eren was a demanding dom, he had to add a bit more to the mix.

There was an egg vibrator taped directly on Mikasa’s swollen clit, its quiet buzzing quite tame compared to the Sybian. As Mikasa was playing a catgirl tonight Eren had put the tail plug into her earlier, and just because he was so generous that was also added to the mix, stimulating her other opening.

Technology truly is the best, everything can vibrate nowadays.

At the beginning of the play Mikasa had a whole set of her cat lingerie on, but as the fun progressed most of it was taken away from her. The only article of clothing remaining on her body were the cute black stockings, left alone because Eren had a thing for her legs and was far beyond pretending that he didn’t.

The rest was perfect too, of course. She was bathed in sweat, tormented for some time already, and Eren could spend an eternity watching her abdominals flutter against the powerful vibrations from several sources. Her hips had a mind of their own, sliding back and forth slightly as she rode the toy, gasping into the gag.

While he was taking in the sights, Mikasa’s body continued trembling, the multiple assaults her body was enduring rather draining. Eren had forbidden her from cumming under a threat of severe punishment, and she knew that he wasn’t bluffing. Earlier she came against his wishes and he whipped her ass so hard that Mikasa cried and begged for mercy.

The welts were there as a reminder and made this whole Sybian ride that much more taxing. With no way to measure time Mikasa had no idea how long she was here, how long it was since Eren ordered her to climb on this infernal machine, face in a very no-discussion-allowed expression. With the blindfold cutting her vision she didn’t even know if he was still here or if he didn’t leave, letting her torment herself.

Close to being overcome Mikasa’s whole being clenched, her muscles standing out beneath the skin so beautifully that she looked like a statue. Her hands shook where they rested behind her head, this close to disobeying orders and pushing herself from the saddle. Teeth biting into the rubber ball in her mouth, Mikasa inhaled sharply through the nose and fought to get her treacherous body back under control. The punishment was painful for disobeying once, and she didn’t want a repetition of that experience.

From his perch Eren saw it all, understanding that his partner’s subspace was under attack, and as a good dom it was his duty to put her back into it. Checking his watch he hummed in acknowledgment, noticing that Mikasa was taking this edging torture for quite a while now. What a good whore, he truly couldn’t wish for a more obedient kitten to train. Standing up, he grabbed the riding crop and walked over to the buzzing saddle with its beautiful occupant. A flick of his wrist and the crop swatted over Mikasa’s chained nipples, forcing a muffled scream from her.

That’s right slut, I’m still here, said the crop, better behave.

Reminded of his presence Mikasa straightened her posture, shamelessly presenting her naked body to him on a silver platter. It belonged to him anyway, she was his submissive for the night and he could do whatever he wanted to her. The twisted way of thanks was the flick of the crop right against her abused clit, forcing Mikasa to sag against the flare of strange pain. Huffing, she straightened once again, mentally preparing herself against the whip.

Eren circled her like a shark, steps deliberate and slow, taking his time. Stopping directly behind her, Eren silently admired the tattoo, somehow unable to get enough of the inked wings. Staring at his own in the mirror was good, but looking at hers, stretched over the pale sweaty skin, that was a treat. A flick of the crop against her reddened butt later he resumed his patrol.

Blindfolded as she was, Mikasa couldn’t track Eren’s steps. The crop was unseen and accurate, hitting exactly where the master wanted, smacking the most vulnerable parts of her body. The whipped ass, the clamped nipples, the vibrated clitoris. Several times she was forced to curl her body by pure instincts, defense against the pain, but she always forced herself back upright.

Through it all the saddle never stopped going and neither did the egg vibrator or the tail buttplug. Mikasa was nearing the limits of her sanity, screaming, groaning and gasping like crazy whenever the crop painfully kissed another part of her sweaty skin. Tears from behind the blindfold, forced by both pleasure and pain. The drool trickling down, slicking the rubber of the ball gag. Too much pleasure, too much pain, balancing on the edge was torture and she was doing it to herself.

Because through it all, Eren’s order reigned absolute. He owned her – body and mind.

The leather of the riding crop appeared, this time under her chin, forcing her to look up with unseeing eyes. Soon after the blindfold was taken away and Mikasa blinked into the light, watching Eren tower over her. Damn but he looked good, dressed in a shirt with rolled-up sleeves and an undone top button. From the position on her knees Mikasa could also see the unmistakable bulge in his slacks, proving how much Eren was enjoying himself.

“You did well, slut.”

Before any conscious reaction could take place Mikasa literally purred at the praise, her mindset being fully the one of a submissive kitten. Not one that she took often, but when she did Mikasa could really get into it.

“Is there a reward you would like?”, her master asked, ever so generous.

In Mikasa’s mind there was only one thing right now. Angling her head she rubbed her face on the crotch of Eren’s pants, feeling his hardness twitch beneath her cheek. To strengthen her plea she looked him I the face, doing her best pupp-…. kitten eyes. If her mouth wasn’t wrenched open by the massive ball gag, Mikasa would be biting the bottom lip too. Anything to seduce him, anything.

“You want that, huh? Well, my attention is not cheap…”

She rubbed against him more insistently, willing to do practically anything to get off - the Sybian was incredibly effective at its job. With a grin Eren reached behind her head, unclasping the strap holding the rubber ball between her lips.

“First you’ll suck me off, and don’t even think about getting down from the saddle.”, he commanded,” You are going to ride it like a fucking cowgirl while my cock is in your throat, and you will love every second of it.”

With a wet pop the gag came free, dropped on the floor.

“Only after I cum on your face and tits will I consider letting you come too. Understand?”

Voice hoarse as she spoke, the desperate catgirl agreed immediately.

“Yes, sir.”

Somewhat gently, he patted her cheek.

“Good girl.”

With a dark chuckle Eren repositioned his hand on Mikasa’s head, right between the cat ears, angling it so it would line up with his length. She took him eagerly into her mouth, the skilled tip of her tongue sliding over all the good places and he couldn’t suppress a groan. Gripping her hair, mostly as a reminder that he’s in charge, Eren cleared his throat before giving her the order that was sure to result in an ocean of pleasure for him and a facial for her, knowing how amazing Mikasa was at this.

“Begin.”

Not even a week later, their positions were reversed.

The straitjacket must have been an invention from the deepest part of hell. Hands uselessly clenching against its restrictive hold, Eren groaned in pure desperation. It didn’t budge, of course, keeping his arms uselessly bound to his stomach.

Above him, his mistress noticed that immediately and it amused her. Greatly.

“You can pull at it as much as you want, slut, you are not getting out.”

The latex of her gloves was cold against the back of Eren’s knees as she pushed his legs higher, perfecting the angle she was fucking him at. The hammering of the strap-on against his ass would feel that much better if it wasn’t for the cage locking his cock away yet tied up as he was all Eren could do was whine.

Honestly, he should have known better than to expect Mikasa not to take her revenge after the Sybian thing. Or maybe revenge isn’t the best word- she loved that toy but her strong sense of equality demanded to balance the scales.

Which, after a certain course of action, led here.

To him, lying on his back on the bed, gagged, with a latex hood covering his face and locked in a straitjacket. Not to mention that fucking cage between his legs. At least the hood had an opening for the eyes, so he could watch Mikasa in all her glory while she ravaged him.

And glorious she was, wearing latex too, of course, the material covering her arms in elbow-length gloves and legs in thigh-high stockings. There were some real killer heels on her feet, Eren knew since he was forced to worship them. When she pushed those sharp heels into his mouth and ordered to suck, they almost reached down to his poor throat. Not that he complained though, since he also got to kiss and lick his way all over Mikasa’s godlike latex-covered legs, and that was an experience he adored.

Even her torso was in that shiny black material, the nice new leotard-type bodysuit fitting very well with the rest of her outfit. So yea, the second she walked through the door and ordered Eren to kneel he did so without thinking. After he properly worshipped her legs and shoes, practically a ritual at this point, Mikasa brought out the bondage tool of her choice. His body moved automatically when she ordered him to strip and then tied him up with the bondage jacket, assisting his goddess in any way he could. He was tied up like this, cock locked, and then the play truly began.

First things first – he was made to take care of her pleasure with nothing else but the new dildo gag. Apparently Eren was not the only one who kept accumulating new toys because Mikasa could also surprise him.

It felt strange, fucking her with his face like he was, and if Eren would have the choice to pick he would prefer to eat Mikasa out instead. Unluckily, today was not the day when he got to make choices. One, two climaxes later, teased out of her by that thing and the Hitachi wand Mikasa used on herself, she was more than ready to fuck him.

Still on his knees, he watched as she pulled the gag from his mouth and gave him a long sloppy kiss before clicking her heels towards the “stash”. Eren didn’t even see what she was searching for, completely fascinated by how her ass looked in the skin-tight latex when suddenly there was a strap-on in front of his face.

“I’m going to fuck you, and I'm going to fuck you hard.”, a cruel smirk, “Hopefully you won’t have to walk tomorrow, because that pretty ass of yours is getting destroyed.”

God, Mikasa being this much of a cruel dominatrix made him so hard that the cage had issues containing it.

“Sadly, we ran out of lube, so you will have to use your mouth.”

“But I….”

“Puppy, you have two options here. Option a – I’ll get the ring gag, force your mouth open and then fuck your throat so hard that you’ll pass out. Option b – You’ll open wide like the slut you are and suck my cock yourself.”, with the clicking of her high heels, she neared his kneeling form like a predator.

“So which one will it be?”

Under her spell, he obeyed almost immediately, lips parting.

“Good slut.”

Mouth filled with a plastic toy, Eren did his best to please her, earning short praise.

“My my, but look at you, you’re a natural at this.”

An unexpected deep thrust forced a gagging sound from him, making the mistress click her tongue.

“But we will have to work on that gag reflex of yours. So annoying…”

A sudden wave of tingling from his crotch forced him to groan, teeth dragging against the plastic.

“Biting my cock? That’s no good.”, she pulled out, and right after Eren’s face flared in pain.

“No…”, a hard slap turned his face right, “Teeth.”, now he was facing left, ears ringing.

After that, she slapped the dildo against his face too, just for good measure, sliding left and right to spread his spit everywhere. Then the hand was back, once again straightening his face and shoving the plastic cock into his mouth. To remind her whore how to move, Mikasa’s hips moved, fucking the undeserving slave with fervor while he groaned helplessly, the arms in the straitjacket uselessly jerking. She was getting into it, sliding deeper and deeper to truly abuse Eren’s throat.

Close to suffocating from this rough treatment, Eren was very glad when she stopped, pulling the strap-on out. It was surely slick enough now, and she nodded her head in satisfaction.

“Not bad.”

Mikasa was in quite the mood today, not even letting Eren catch a breath before she was pushing him on the bed. When the lube opened, despite her earlier claim, and her gloved fingers trailed between his cheeks, he knew what was coming.

So here he was, getting pounded into the next week while gritting his teeth against the combination of pleasure and displeasure. Mikasa was enjoying herself, she always was, leaning closer both to alter the angle but also to grin right into Eren’s face. Just as she was getting passionate the phone rang, but if Eren thought that it would make her stop he was dead wrong.

“Why look at this, slut, someone wants to talk to you..”, she drawled, speeding up the fucking machine that was her abdomen, “What a pity that you are quite busy.”

His vision was slowly going white in spite of the cage, but Eren did his best to stop that wave. He knew that coming like this while caged was highly unsatisfying, Mikasa forced that out of him several times already - one could say that he was familiar with that feeling. Sadly, his mistress was a sadistic, cruel bitch when she wanted to be.

He loved her for it.

The phone’s ringing was overshadowed by the rush of blood in Eren’s ears. All he could see was Mikasa, all he could feel was Mikasa, she was everything at that moment and he was on the verge of breaking when she suddenly stopped, making him heave in the air as much as he could while gagged.

Oh hey, the phone was silent too.

With a wet sound she pulled out, slapping his ass for no other reason than that she wanted to.

“Turn around, whore.”

It was awkward, with a lot of shuffling around and stuff, but Eren managed to flip himself. Grabbing his hips, Mikasa maneuvered his body until it was dangerously close to the edge of the bed. When two clicks of her heels hitting the floor resonated, he understood. Ah, so Mikasa wanted to stand while fucking him. Now he was kneeling on the bed, hands still useless at his stomach while Mikasa stood behind him. When the tip of the toy dragged over his lubed opening, Eren couldn’t help but grit his teeth.

Slowly she filled him, going in until her chest was squished against his back, black lips at his ear.

“You are taking my cock very well, I think you deserve a reward.”

Deft fingers moved and suddenly Eren’s chastity cage fell open, a feeling of incredible freedom in the crotch. Despite all that was happening, she pressed a chaste kiss to the side of his neck.

“You can cum now, okay? As long as it's only from my cock then I won’t mind. Can you do that for me, puppy?”

Most likely because she wanted to hear him scream, she opened the gag and let it fall on the bed.

“Y-Yes, mistress.”, Eren pushed out, breathing labored since he was literally impaled by her right now.

A whisper, one that sent shivers down his spine.

“Good boy…”

And then Mikasa was pulling back, grabbing his hips and Eren couldn’t remember much after.

But hell, did his ass hurt in the morning.

#eremika #fanfic #smut #snk

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monkey-network · 5 years ago

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The Fiasco Finale of Future [1/2]

So in the penultimate episode of Steven Universe 2, the climax of both the season and series as a whole... is a group hug. As I expected, plenty were not too pleased with this turnout. Some felt it was anti-climatic, some felt it was resonating, and others tried to own the critics by digging deep into the scene like they always do sucking this show’s co- Coming from nearly a month later, I’m... split. One hand, I didn’t mind the climax. On the other hand, it was pathetic compared to plenty of other finales I’ve seen in media. It’s like this show as a whole, I enjoy it, but I also enjoy smacking it upside the head cuz it made some Karen-esque, All Lives Matter type stupid shit that I just cannot get behind. So you know what, Perry the Platypus, let’s mix it up. I wanna express the good and bad of this climactic end to the show and see where we can go from there. You ready?

What’s Good:

You truly wanna know what makes that final hug a great scene? A real showstopper? I have the truth, the best truth behind this, you won’t believe me but here goes. The climax worked because A Hug Is Nice. That’s it, there’s nothing else to it beyond a hug being nice. “But Monkey, you incel troll, there’s should’ve been more to that. The episode shouldn’t have taken that long to get to that point.” Well, in typical fashion, let me put it this way by talking about Spider-Man 2 (better than Spiderverse, don’t @ me). The whole movie is centered around Peter’s life getting shat on. He’s getting fired left and right, his people are abandoning him, he even loses his powers, he’s just at his utter lowest. But at his apartment, while contemplating, in comes his landlord’s daughter, Ursula, who offers him some chocolate cake and a glass of milk.

We can say the scene comes out of nowhere and that this is all that happens, feeling pointless, but I say this is an important scene because after everything that happens to him before, this one gesture from somebody out of nowhere to be honest was one of the nicest things he’s received in a while. It’s the seedling of a scene that keeps Parker going before Doc Ock comes to make him truly spring back into action. Above everything, it was nice. Like a hug.

I don’t need to be philosophically deep with SU2′s meta to tell you that a hug can be a worthwhile thing to get more than anything. It doesn’t resolve all the baggage Steven has in his mind, but a group hug from the people closest to you (and the Diamonds) can be a gesture so nice, it can numb you out, if only for a moment. Only other times where Steven got a hug was when he felt everything could be okay. With Lars, Peridot, and Connie after her “rejection”, and it’s after that “rejection” where he slowly loses it in his attempts to shake off that harsh feeling of abandonment and that everything can be okay. It is something where he can turn to the others for help but the concern of their response makes him reasonably suffer in silence. That last part is a little dumb, but I’ll get to that later. He can’t really hug himself because it doesn’t work like that. The point being that Steven, at his lowest, just needed something nice to consider. And a hug from everyone who loves him (and the Diamonds) can be that piece of chocolate cake he needed to be at ease, again, if only for a moment.

Like let me tell ya, as a deliriously depressed man that constantly wishes for death, a hug shouldn’t be spat on. Whether it be from your friends or mommy, a good hug can, at the very least, keep you sane and going. It isn’t medication, let’s not get it twisted, but a healthy remedy nonetheless, especially if you’ve ever felt touch-starved like I have before. It’s an affectionate gesture that for what it’s worth, should never be taken for granted. And while Steven could’ve well gotten this big type hug at almost any time he desired, I can at least appreciate the show for saving that at the right time. Whew. But, while the moment itself is nice, it’s predictably almost everything around it that unfortunately puts the moment in a vacuum and me with a bad taste in my mouth.

What’s Bad:

Let’s get this out the way, because I’m such a literal bastard... *inhale*

Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis. Penis.

MUSHROOM! MUSHROOM!

Congrats on those with the corrupted!steven theories who no doubt had it hard on when this horned trunk ascended, hung its head high, and beat its meaty chest with blind rage, the crewniverse certainly had the balls to go with this design and a long discussion of utilizing Monster Steven’s full potential. And if you think I’m nasty about this, hoo boy, be glad that words are all you’re seeing right now because artists no doubt had a field day potentially ruining this design for you even more. I’m surprised Tumblr’s flagging system hasn’t taken down whole posts with this. HEHEHEHAAAAAAAA!

As you can probably tell, I’m not a fan of this Diamond Dinodildo’s design (say that 5x times fast). I mean Rebecca could be as horny as she pleased with this show, but this is next level, I tell you. But seriously, it honestly sucked that this is what they came up with when it served no purpose to Steven thematically other than him being a literal peen of a monster. Said this before, but what does becoming a corrupted looking amalgamation mean to him beyond “he’s a monster”? Corrupted gems weren’t the worst things in his world, they were products of a even worse thing. Turning into a diamond like figure would’ve said something about the cycle of abuse making you not feel like yourself, but a reflection of who you not only resent more than anyone, but were the indirect causes of your newfound issues. That would’ve took his struggle in the Diamonds Days arc to its next logical extreme, and brought most of Future’s episodes centered around Steven’s issues to a sensible turning point. Being a warped Diamond version of himself would’ve meant finally embracing inhumanity, and that would’ve conveyed the peak of Steven harshly feeling less like a human over the course of the season, especially when we had several episodes and new powers centering around him being inhuman. And a previous episode had him try to shatter a Pink version of White Diamond, two beings generally responsible for everything that’s happened to him. And it isn’t the design that made this a turn off.

What was Steven even gonna do as a monster? He does nothing to the town, he never even makes it pass the cliffside. He doesn’t even try to attack anybody, the only times he does is when he’s provoked by either the Cluster, the Diamonds, or any of the gems. Spinel raised more hell than Steven. So on the look back it’s insultingly sad they hyped up this big dick energy only to do... genuinely nothing. He already didn’t deserve turning into Pinky the Phallisaurus, but having him not even do anything as a monster left far more to be desired. Mob Psycho 100 did this nearly identical, but better. You can’t deny that it would’ve worked better with 22 minutes, actually give him something to do beyond screech and stomp like he’s Scrat from Ice Age. As much as I don’t like Change Your Mind, 45 minutes worked to its favor to do everything it did. Oh wait, this episode did make good use of time... with a fucking pity party.

They wasted my baby

This is. The WORST scene in the entire series and I’ll stand by that 100%. It’s one thing to show something offensive, but it’s another to have something be completely pointless. Yes, Connie talked some sense into them, but we didn’t need to waste time having White Diamond and the others bitch about something everyone who isn’t a toesucking simp should’ve figured out at that point. Not like it mattered, the Diamonds and Spinel never show up after this episode anyways, so good job making them count for something, I guess. This as well as minorly acknowledge the fact that the gems had a lot to do with Steven’s mental trauma because hey, we don’t have to hold these gems too accountable for child neglect. Speaking of which, where was Jasp- This plays well into my previous point, we aren’t shown what Steven was gonna do as a monster, so what else is the episode to do beyond holding him back in time to just make the characters go “All is lost” for one second before getting back up like this is Marvel’s Captain Driftwood?

Friendship is Magic had this type of moment in its penultimate finale but in that, more time was given to show the villains getting the upper hand, Twilight at her low point, her turnaround with her friends, and the lead in charge to defeat the villains. While some moments felt convenient and downright insulting, they made the most of their limit. The same can’t be said for this and it makes no sense. Speaking of things that make no sense:

Was this shapeshifting or corruption? Rushing or dragging? This personally bothers me because people are saying he shapeshifted even when they were also on board with him corrupting. But what was the point where monster Steven cums cries into the ocean turning it pink?

Now if Steven got himself corrupted, this would make sense since the three Diamonds are there with so fully turning him back to normal wouldn’t be an issue. Questions would arise about how corruption can happen to a human, then again this is Steven Universe, fans never really wanted you to ask questions. But if this was shapeshifting, then why have this permanent monster form? It would’ve made a little more sense of Steven changing his shape depending on his emotions, like what we’ve seen before. Additionally, Steven should have been capable of talking normally instead of roaring and growling like he switched brains with an actual animal. Just because he kinned Godzilla’s joystick doesn’t mean he was unable to speak to anybody, that is if he shapeshifted. Lastly, and this is more implicit than my previous points:

This season shouldn’t have tried tacking mental issues and trauma onto this dickslap of a climax. I’m on the side where we should’ve seen more from monster Steven, but what does this tell me for the topic of mental health? Nearly killing people on three separate occasions didn’t help, but having him transform into a near mindless beast is a backhanded way to convey post traumatic stress. Let me put it this way, if we didn’t get that episode where we learn Steven had held up trauma and stress from Doctor Priyanka, everything surrounding it afterward wouldn’t feel as fucked up as it did. Yes, understanding a root of a character’s problems is good, beneficial even, but having your character nearly, sporadically, commit MURDER THREE TIMES only to then have him become a wildin’ creature does nothing, if not disgust. It's disgusting when you talk about PTS one minute and have your main character be socially dangerous the next. You’d feel sorry for him, sure, but I gotta say nearly killing people is not something we should just hand wave. That is not a good or realistic depiction of depression and post traumatic stress; especially when you trying to discuss this with children. And don’t try to justify it by saying it was necessary for his downward spiral. Having to think and see death before my own eyes in real life, there should’ve been a better way to make Steven hit rock bottom without putting other’s lives on the line. It wasn’t compelling or resonating to see him become a witless creature after saying he could get away with anything, it felt jarringly hallow and teeth gritting sadistic to think this was acceptable. It took him turning into a literal creature to finally go to therapy or a throwaway line about therapy in this show’s case? Are you kidding me?

The hug is a nice moment on its own, but it took far too many kneecaps to get to this point and think it’s believably or justly earned. I can make fun of the monster design all I want, but what they put Steven through to get to this point is the most insulting writing I ever have to think about. Because you know what that hug told me, personally? It’s that you can commit near irrefutable atrocities, you can behave like a blithering rampaging beast all you wish, but that won’t matter. Because you’re valid and your people will love you. That is not only asinine, but it kinda pissed on what I went through growing up. Like, as idealistic as that felt, it didn’t add up because it made the mentally unstable come off as more unstable than they mostly are. You can disagree all you want with this, it won’t change the baffling fact that I came to this conclusion in the first place when I didn’t want to. “But the crew said in an interv-” NO, just nope. If the message the show gives is this polarizing for those that invested or were concerned with it, maybe the message wasn’t clear enough, who knows? I can believe Mr. Rogers never fucked this up when he made his show. I tried thinking of this differently, but I can’t excuse what they did and how they did it. Bojack Horseman never pulled this with its main lead and when it truly did, that was given more time to sort out; not an 11 minute epilogue in its final moments. The hug was nice, but this episode was trash.

Speaking of which, next time...

We Finally Look to the Future

Here’s Part 2, if you’re up.

#su critical #su criticism #su critique #su #steven universe #steven universe future #su future #suf #analysis #reviews #Good Stuff #dumb #I am my monster #long post

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masterweaverx · 5 years ago

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Me: “I should probably be writing so I don’t get so desperate at the last minute that--”

My brain: “The El Goonish Shive characters as students of Beacon academy MAKE IT HAPPEN GO GO GO!”

Me: “FINE. I’ll draw notes, but I’m not necessarily doing the story!”

So anyway here’s some notes for a story I’m not necessarily doing.

Team SPET (Spectral), led by Grace

Grace Sciuridae:

Faunus, Vale origin. Squirrel tail, “antennae” forelocks, and clawed fingernails/toenails (not actual claws, she just let them grow out.

Emblem: An acorn, generally worn as a pin on her sleeve.

Outfit is a loose long-sleeved shirt in green, black pants, bandoleer belt with a sheathe for her weapon and pouches, and no shoes/gloves.

Beacon uniform adjustments: no shoes, and she doesn’t wear the neck ribbon thing, but otherwise standard girl’s outfit.

Semblance: Extensorary. Grace can extend her aura to feel anything in the area, manipulate objects, or simulate flight.

Weapon: Shade Tail. A zweihander that splits into two bladed whips. Possible Dust effects.

Backstory: Kidnapped as a child by Damien, who in this universe is an absolutely insane faunus-supremacist that thinks he can control the Grimm, Grace lived several unkind years in the forests of Vale before managing to escape and arriving at Beacon academy. Ozpin let her in as a student mostly to provide her the protection of paperwork, since from what she’s describing Damien might be tied to the Bigger Secret of the world. She becomes partners with Tedd during initiation. Her upbringing does leave her mostly the same as EGS prime canon, ignorance of all social norms included, but she has an especial dislike of the creatures of Grimm due to Damien’s madness. Also she doesn’t get racism. Period.

Susan Pompoms:

Human, Argus origin. Appears mostly the same as EGS canon, with exception of single blonde side-braid.

Emblem: Venus symbol, used as a belt buckle.

Outfit is a dark blue longcoat has straps on the back, through which backpack straps are run to hold onto her Big Box O’ Stuff. Wears blue pants held up by belt and going into calf-high boots, black leotard, and black three-finger half gloves. Shoulder armor and a metal backbrace.

Beacon uniform adjustments: Boy’s uniform instead of girl’s, but otherwise standard.

Semblance: Portation. Susan can mark any container as hers and teleport whatever's in it to herself and back.

Weapon: Morrígna. A warhammer that can split into a sword and mallet. The mallet can morph into a one-handed gun.

Backstory: The early parts of the backstory would remain basically the same, but she doesn’t meet Nanase until Beacon and has only a passing familiarity with Sarah as ‘Oh yeah, her family comes to Argus sometimes.’ But she would have a friendship/rivalry with Pyrrha, which might lead to some interesting interactions with Jaune. She winds up partnered with Elliot during initiation. And, upon realizing how completely unaware of social norms sheltered Grace is, would be very vocal about certain people not abusing her.

Elliot Dunkel:

Human, Mantle origin. Literally looks the same as canon, because why break a good look?

Emblem: An oval with some abstract lines, seen as a symbol on his shirt.

Outfit is a White cape and black crop-top, black pants and white shoes, belts in an x-shape over his belly with pouches for carrying things.

Beacon uniform adjustments: he does not wear the white undershirt. That’s it. The jacket’s buttoned up, but he doesn’t wear the undershirt.

Semblance: Soul Fury. Elliot can draw on the negativity of others, such as pain and fear, in order to increase his own physical attack strength. He has trained this to a degree that he is capable of jumping to intense heights.

Weapons: Honor and Justice. Arm-mounted bladed tonfas, capable of shooting grappling hooks from the wrist to either drag himself to a location or to bring a foe to him. Used to be part of the Four Ideals, but leg-mounted equivalents went to Ellen.

Backstory: Saved Tedd from some bullies during one of his visits to Mantle, became close friends. Otherwise standard backstory. Some people might note his childhood doesn’t mention his twin sister, and he’ll say there was a whole money-legality thing until recently. Anybody with a truth-sensing semblance will know he’s lying. The truth, however, is Very Classified. Like seriously you don’t know how classified it is.

Tedd Verres:

Human, Atlas origin. Left half of his hair is the original ‘long hair’, right half is the new ‘pixie cut’.

Emblem: A circle with three lines extending from it, which is placed on his equipment.

Outfit is a light blue longcoat with internal pockets (and everyone is going to comment on that since none of the other characters have pockets), light blue pants, black shirt and boots. Also some purple armor around his chest that is slightly rounded and matching greaves on his legs.

Beacon uniform adjustments: wears the girl’s outfit, but with a tie.

Semblance: Copyscan. Tedd can identify other people's semblances with some observation, and make limited-use copies of them with physical contact.

Weapon: Convergence. A gauntlet with an extendable shield, which also stores copies of semblances. Ted also has an energy pistol called Expedience.

Backstory: Tedd’s dad still works for a coverup agency, but now it’s the RWBY-canon ‘Keep Magic and the existence of Salem an utter secret’ cover-up agency. Tedd was brought into this against his father’s wishes when General Ironwood realized the potency of his semblance, but this also gave him access to a few classified doohickies such as this fused universe’s version of the Dewitchery Diamond. Going to Beacon is meant as a ‘field test’ of Tedd as an agent, at least according to Ironwood, but there’s also his dad wanting him to have friends that aren’t involved in all the top secret drama. Also yes, he does have a copy of Ellen’s gender change spell in Convergence which she willingly refreshes for him, and he will sometimes spend time as a girl. (Possible connection to May Marigold down the line?)

Team STNE (Stone), led by Sarah

Sarah Brown:

Human, Mistral origin. The only real difference is that her hairband now sports fancy curls and flanges and also it’s made of bronze as a sort of informal helmet.

Emblem: a double-sided question mark which is engraved into her arm guards.

Outfit is a pink knee-length dress, belt with four pouches radially aligned. Armored boots, greaves, and with her shoulders, all bronze.

Beacon uniform adjustments: none, but she still wears her headgear.

Semblance: Lookout. Sarah can instantly take in details about her environment to a highly detailed degree, with a range that extends the more aura she pours into it. While she can examine things that might be hidden, i.e. the inside of a closed book, she cannot change anything.

Weapon: Zauberei. Spear/staff that can shift into a rifle and split into a pistol and dagger. It sort of looks like a giant paintbrush?

Backstory: An ordinary Mistral combat student who went up against Pyrrha Nikos and Susan during some combat tournaments and got a case of starry eyes for both of them. Upon hearing they were going to Beacon, she decided to go too because why not? What she doesn’t realize is that she’s going to be put in charge of a team of Secrets and Drama. She winds up partnered with Justin during initiation.

Justin Tolkiberry:

Human, Vale origin. Aside from a very fancy set of earrings in one ear, he looks about the same as his canon counterpart.

Emblem: Abstract fire, which is displayed prominantly on the back of his gi.

Outfit is an open orange gi with lots of red fire patterns and buckled belts around the ankles, thighs, biceps, and forearms. Also sandles. And he does have a belt around the pants with a few pouches.

Beacon uniform adjustments: Wears sandles instead of shoes.

Semblance: Not known, exactly. Justin knows he can ignore damage sometimes, but the details are unclear.

Weapon: Dashing Delver. A rectangle-headed shovel that turns into a tower shield/sled.

Backstory: Basically the same as canon Justin, except that because Remnant is more accepting of LGBT+ people overall he wasn’t bullied and was just very irritated at Mellissa. Also Elliot and Nanase were on entirely different continents so there’s that. He’ll be the snarky rational one when everything about his team is revealed.

Nanase Kitsune:

Faunus, Menagerie origin. Has naturally dual-colored hair to match her naturally dual-colored fox ears.

Emblem: A heart-shaped fox head thing she wears on her shirt.

Outfit is a black jacket, yellow croptop with emblem in red, red skirt with yellow trim, red armbands, black shoes, and a pouch belt that hangs off one hip instead of being used as a belt.

Beacon Uniform Adjustment: She keeps her armbands.

Semblance: Fairy Companion. Nanase can summon fairy companions to herself or anyone she has an emotional connection with. These fairies run off her subconscious unless she deliberately controls them, and can be used to communicate, scout, or detonate as weapons. Their size is controllable, ranging from ‘hold in one hand’ to ‘outright as big as Nanase herself’, though they always appear to be wearing what Nanase is at time of summoning. Larger fairies take proportionally more aura to summon.

Weapon: Faewind. A backpack with four cable-attached fairy wings. Each wing is a bladed arm/leg shield with inbuilt nozzles that serve either as short-range blasters or a jetpack when retracted.

Backstory: The Kitsunes are a very important family in Menagerie, with a lot of political clout, and Nanase is expected to reflect that as her mother sends her to Beacon in order to indirectly represent Menagerie at the Vytal tournament. Nanase, however, is using this first chance to not have to be a Perfect Icon to actually search for her own identity. She becomes partners with Ellen during initiation, and picks up on how Ellen is really not comfortable talking about her own past. There’s a slow gradual growth of trust going on, and Nanase slowly comes to realize she might love this girl.

Ellen Dunkel:

Human(ish), Mantle origin. Looks the same as canon because of course she does.

Emblem: A rectangular mirror with a suspiciously familiar diamond shape in the center, painted on her shirt.

Outfit: Where Elliot wears a cape, Ellen wears an open coat. But otherwise it’s basically the same, if adjusted for female.

Beacon Uniform adjustments: She doesn’t wear the socks. That’s it. She wears the shoes but not the socks.

Semblance: Shift Beam. Ellen is capable of generating a beam of light from her palm. If the target has no active aura, it is impacted with a degree of force relative to the amount of aura input. If a target does have aura, the beam can cause temporary physical alteration; Ellen is still learning the ins and outs of this, but she can usually make other bodies more like hers (i.e. physically female). This is noted to be unusual, since no other known semblance outright shapeshifts people. Consequently, she tries to avoid using it in ways where this can be observed.

Weapon: Courage and Virtue. Leg tonfas. Complete with jump-jets. Used to be Elliot's.

Backstory: Officially she’s just the long-lost twin of Elliot’s who recently got back out of the foster care system. Unofficially, the dewitchery diamond exists in this fused universe and Ellen has to keep her origin a secret because if Salem heard about her hooooo boy! The original plan was for her, Elliot, and Tedd to all be on the same team so they could protect each other but she wound up partnering with Nanase and then on a seperate team and now Ellen is conflicted between explaining her origins to her partner and not wanting people to freak out. But she does slowly start to explain her various quirks, as people (especially Nanase) start to notice stuff about her.

The Plot:

I dunno, team SPET and STNE interact with teams RWBY and JNPR and get involved in the world-spanning conspiracy? My brain is saying this is enough for now.

#RWBY #El Goonish Shive #fanfic idea #Fanfic notes #Grace Sciuridae #Tedd Verres #Susan Pompoms #Elliot Dunkel #Ellen Dunkel #Justin Tolkiberry #Sarah Brown #Nanase Kitsune #Yeah the outfits could probably use a little work

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years ago

Text

Word Twisters || Morgan & Rebecca

Shelves upon shelves upon shelves of books and not one of them has the right answer. guess they'll have to talk :/

Contains: brief mentions of abuse

@exorciseyourspirit

Morgan felt guilty meeting Rebecca at Riio’s special scribe hideaway without him, but it had been a communal space before, and it could be so now, if she was going to help Rebecca find a way to get Mike under control before he came back and ruined everyone’s life again. She’d brought her folding grocery cart with her so they wouldn’t be limited by what they could fit in their arms, but the strange rustle of the wheels on the old floors was uncanny, like one of those dreams where you turn a corner and find yourself in a different memory, as a different person. Everything felt like an odd mish-mash and Morgan felt herself floating through her existence more than usual. Perhaps it was seeing Rebecca again, hitting the books again, almost like nothing happened. Shopping for solutions. She scanned the pines more longer than usual, wondering if there was a book on shocking some feeling back into a zombie body. What’s the fix for not being able to feel or process magic? Morgan looked sidelong at Rebecca, uncertain how to act after how angry she’d been in most of their conversations online. “So,” she said, “I guess even asking ‘how’s it going’ is a loaded question, huh?”

The hallways stretched out before Rebecca and for a moment, she felt trapped. In that weird, this place is too large and too secluded way. It felt like she was back in that hollow place, where everything was the same yet different. Where the kitchen clocked beeped and only Theo’s voice could reach her. She’d been able to astral project before, and had done it a few times, but never subconsciously. And that place...it was different. As if the world constructed there was pulled straight from her mind and placed into the plane. Morgan’s voice broke through her thoughts and echoed in a way that reminded Rebecca that this place was solid, and that this place was real. She put out a hand to the shelf, letting the wood ground her. “It is,” she said back after a moment, taking down another book, “but you can still ask it.” Held out the book for Morgan’s cart. She understood the wariness she held-- they’d argued angrily online and never truly coalesced their feelings about that before moving on. “Only if I get to ask it back, though. With none of those niceties as an answer.”

“R-right, sure,” Morgan said, giving the most casual shrug she could summon. She took Rebecca’s book and added it to the pile, followed her for a few more paces in the strange quiet between them. “That’s fair. I uh...I’m still dead. Still having to count putting on clean clothes and keeping up with laundry and showering as a win.” She flopped her arms at her side. Whatever was between them, however it shook out, Morgan felt at ease enough to wear her new usual of dark sweats and sweater, hair half scrunchied back to hide how fluffy it wasn’t. “Still kind of maybe fighting with my best friend, but they turned me, you know, to ‘save me,’ so. And I’ve got my girlfriend, still, somehow. I’m...adjusting. I’m getting out of bed. I’m trying to be a good...whatever.” Some of the words turned sour as she spoke them. She had been doing okay, sometimes better than, but every night was another fight not to backslide, every dead moment a silent plea to take a minute. Fall a little. And Morgan, despite her alleged stamina, felt tired with the whole thing sometimes. Today, for some reason, especially. She met eyes with Rebecca briefly, unsure how much she still understood, how she might feel, or judge her. “So…” she said quietly. “How’s it going with you?”

Rebecca quieted as she listened to Morgan. None of it was truly good news, but she supposed she should’ve expected an answer like that. She didn’t have much to say about it, either. She wished she did, but all her words were just words. They would provide no comfort. “Trying is all you can do right now,” she said finally, “and that’s good enough.” She paused another moment before turning down another aisle and picking through the books there. “Well,” she sighed, “I found out that my dead wife is a ghost, and she’s been living with Blanche. And she’s mad at me for like the millionth time since I found out, because I’m not good enough at asking for help and don’t want to put the only other exorcist in town aside from the grumpy old groundskeeper in danger of dying.” She tossed a book lamely into the cart. “I think I’ve been subconsciously astral projecting into a different plane while the Dybbuk is in control and I’m not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing. And I’m too afraid to try and perform an exorcism again because I’m pretty sure he can tap into my power.” She turned, then, to face Morgan. “So...you know.”

“I ate a person’s brain,” Morgan burst out. She hadn’t expected Rebecca to lay that many cards out on the table so frankly, she suddenly felt guilty for holding back. “He was already dead. And I kind of liked it, and kind of didn’t but not because eating-humans-bad. Also, I’m...maybe coming out of a really, really danger-bad low. But, um, with that all out there--” She reached for the first book that had something useful sounding in the title (Secondary Theory of Astral Universe Epistemology) “Your dead wife is here? The love of your life dead wife? And you’re fighting? Or you and Blanche are fighting? Are--” You okay? They were kneejerk response words, what every helpless person said. And it wasn’t even what they meant. They wanted to know how bad the damage was. What was the proximity between where they were, ‘okay,’ and ‘natural disaster.’ “How are you even dealing with all that. Are you...is she different? Are you different? With everything that’s happened to you?”

“Did it taste good?” was the first thing Rebecca asked. She understood how zombies operated, just as she did vampires, although zombies had a much more sustainable way of life, if lived cautiously. Theodora was mostly a vampire hunter, though zombies caused quite a ruckus as well. “As long as you didn’t kill the person for the brain, I don’t quite see the harm. Did you assume part of the person’s personality? I heard that’s a thing that may happen.” She shuffled aimlessly for a moment, before deciding she’d need to sit for the rest of this conversation, and circled back towards the table. “She’s a ghost. So I can’t even see her. Sometimes I still think I’m just making it up, but then she messaged me on a fucking computer and I can’t help but remember she’s here. I’m not fighting with Blanche, no.” She sank into a chair and fetched a book. “I’m not dealing well, if that’s what you’re asking. Of course we’re different-- she died and I was alone and possessed for two years. She notices that I can’t call her lover anymore and it hurts, but also knowing that I’m going to have to lose her all over again hurts me. I never know what to say to her. I can’t give her reassurances like I used to, tell her it’s all going to be alright, if we just believe. Because it’s not, and it won’t be.” Sighing, she opened the book. “But it’s not a contest, Morgan. And I’m sorry you’re still suffering.”

“Wow. That’s...weirdly chill of you. You’re like the third person to normalize this for me. I thought you’d think it was a bigger deal. And I did, become a little like him, that’s the only part I didn’t like, but we don’t have to...go there, if you, well...” Had more than enough to worry about already. But rather than wrestle with that confusion, Morgan pulled up a chair and sat near Rebecca, gripping the edge of her seat for lack of a better idea. “Look, with the not being able to talk like you used to, sometimes it’s just like that when you’re adjusting to being something else. I know you’re still technically you, but knowing Mike’s around probably makes everything feel different. And your wife, she’s a ghost. I can’t even imagine how much worse that would be than being a zombie. These are things that words don’t reach, and there’s words you can’t get to, even though they might be true. Sometimes it takes a lot of time, more than a few weeks. I couldn’t tell Deirdre I loved her for a while, after I came back. And what we’re going through is so different, we were only apart for a little while. But being honest helps. Even if it hurts.” She sat back, holding herself as she settled in. “Yeah, sure,” she muttered. “Me too.” She wanted to help Rebecca, she wanted to be here, but something about Rebecca’s apologies still stung her bitterly.

“You’re a zombie now, Morgan,” Rebecca answered smoothly, a bit of her weariness in her voice. Perhaps years ago she would’ve been appalled, but the years had worn her down, and her losses had jaded her. “It’s just what you do. My spirituality doesn’t cling to the body, it savors the soul. As long as you’re not killing people for their brains, then I see no harm in it.” She tried her best to focus on the book, but the conversation had a hand up on her attention, so she simply closed it and looked across the table at Morgan. She was stiff and avoiding Rebecca’s gaze and her apology. Rebecca sighed. “Death is death. The hardest part is not being able to see her, I suppose. It feels wholly unfair that she can see me and know me, but I don’t get that in return. In all honesty, I wish she weren’t here, and she knows that, but it doesn’t help,” she muttered, quiet suddenly, as her heart grew heavy, “nothing helps.” An admittedly low point for her, caving in front of someone. The only person she’d ever truly been vulnerable with had been Theo, and her heart ached to be that way with her again.

“She doesn’t have a body, Rebecca, she doesn’t get to know you like she wants to,” Morgan sighed. “I’ve wound up on the floor over not being able to recognize or feel a touch. Not feeling anything at all is...I don’t even want to think about it. And looking at you while you can’t see her, probably also not fun.Not that it isn’t terrible for you, I mean--one half of you being screwed is bad, but you’re both hurting. You’re both in the pit.” She looked over at Rebecca, struck by just how tired, how done she looked. It was all too painfully familiar and she hated it. Why should she help in the first place? Why should she bother? Rebecca had bailed, and it was supposed to be okay because she cared. Not enough to help her, not enough to keep her alive, but sure, she cared. But stars, Rebecca’s hurt was so awful to see. Morgan’s insides twisted bitterly, but she didn’t think she could make it worse on purpose. “Sometimes things are just awful,” she said quietly. “And you have to keep pushing until you get used to the weight. And maybe pushing doesn’t look like much to other people, or it means Theo doesn’t get what she wants sometimes. If she loves you, it won’t really matter in the end. You grab onto whatever reason you can, however small or stupid, and you just...you go, even when you’re tired. And I know, Becca,” her voice turned soft and heavy. “I know how tired you must be. It’s the most exhausting thing there is.”

Morgan was right and Rebecca resented that a little bit. She was supposed to be the one giving sagely advice on how to deal with whatever life threw at you, but at some point, she supposed, everyone grew tired. She’d been strong for so long, the burden of that weight was heavier now than ever before. It had always been easier to carry with Theo next to her, but now, it almost felt worse. How easy would life be if she could just let go. But she’d promised he would not win, and she’d promised she’d live to fifty, and she promised she’d fight. And so, Morgan was right. “When’d you get so wise?” she said after a moment, sitting up a little straighter, a little less weary. “But I suppose you’re right. The only thing to do is just...keep moving forward, isn’t it? Because we can’t take the other option,” she said simply, as if it were a fact. She was well aware that they’d probably both thought of it, but would never admit it, even if the sentence itself was an admission. Her eyes, cool and blue, met Morgan’s. “I am sorry, you know,” she muttered quietly, as if the softness of her voice could finally make Morgan believe her. “For everything.”

“Doesn’t mean you can’t take a beat now and then. Or that you’re not allowed to say it hurts. You’re always allowed to say it hurts,” Morgan said, digging her fists into her skirt, trying to reign herself in. She felt like she was opening a raw nerve. Even the silence, even the confidence of Rebecca picking herself back up again made it snap with pain. “The undead don’t sleep. Gives you a lot of time to think. Or go off the deep end.” She stiffened, shrinking in her seat as Rebecca leveled that soft look at compassion at her. That look that she had believed in, that had turned out to be not as true as she’d wanted. She pursed her lips thin in a vain effort to keep them from trembling. “Don’t,” she said. “You’re not, not really, so--what’s the point? Constance killed me while I was getting ice cream. Maybe it gave her enough of a good time that she crossed over happy. You don’t have to worry about me anymore,” she shrugged, stiff and looked away as her thin reserve began to cave.

Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t think I’m sorry that you died?” she said, suddenly a chill in her voice. “You think I don’t blame myself, even a little? Even if I think he’s lying about what he did or didn’t do?” she leaned back in her chair, folded her arms over her chest. “I know we don’t truly know each other that well, but what ridiculous stories have you made up in your unsleeping nights to convince yourself that someone would want this for you, Morgan?” she snapped. She was tired, so tired, of all of this. “I am not the thing inside of me. I would have done whatever I could to have helped you. To have tried to save you. My fault was in thinking I could do that without help of my own, I know that now. That’s what I’m sorry for. And I’m sorry for your death. I grew up around death, I steeped myself in it when I left home. Do you think I don’t mourn every soul I pass on? Every spirit I see? Every life ended short, every undead, every grave? What do you think being connected to souls means, exactly, Morgan? Please, tell me, I’d love to hear your thoughts.”

“I didn’t say you were him!” Morgan snapped, suddenly too upset to mind she was crying. “But you--I asked you, I told you what it would take and I asked you, and, wouldn't you know, it was too much. Again! It always turned out to be the one thing no one wanted to do, no matter what stupid idea I was trying. Everyone feels bad and wants to help, until I actually need something. And then you disappeared, so I guess that was the story of my whole life! What else was I supposed to think? The last thing you said to me was no! Maybe you’re sad for me like you are for everyone else, just one more sad person, but I don’t want that, I don’t need that! I wanted you to try and help me anyway!” The way the words hurt on the way out, Morgan knew they were true. She scrubbed the back of her hand over her eyes. She was past saving face but she couldn’t help but try. “I wanted you to try something, anything, even if it was hard! It’s not like I wasn’t aware that everything about me gets hard if you stick around long enough. I knew. Curse and all. It always got too hard, and too much, no matter who I asked. It was too much for me too, but I didn’t have a choice to bail or not! I just wanted it to be different this time.” She took a gasping breath, struggling to clear the sobs in her throat without letting them out, her voice cording tight as she whispered “How am I supposed to know you would’ve done any different? It’s over; what am I supposed to learn from that?”

Rebecca listened. And waited. She understood, somewhere, why Morgan would feel the way she did. Perhaps the way she’d grown up, always looking over her shoulder, losing friend after friend, town after town, person after person. Perhaps it had been something drilled into her by a mother trying to protect her only to be the true cause of her pain. Or perhaps it was simply her subconscious, trying to save her from another painful realization. Whatever it was, Rebecca simply listened as Morgan belted it out. It was the least she could do. When she was done, Rebecca sat forward, hands neatly crossed in her lap, and said, “Are you quite finished?” in that tone Theodora often used for her during her rants. It always seemed to work. She waited a moment longer, her eyes never leaving Morgan’s face. “I am sorry,” she said evenly, “but I will not compromise my morals for you, Morgan. This is how I feel and what I would have told you even without this thing inside of me, tearing my soul apart slowly.” She drew in a breath, still in that chilling way mother’s sat when you came home past curfew. “I did not say no because it was hard, or because you were too much. And I didn’t even say no to you. I said no to an idea. You are a grown woman, Morgan, and whatever misgivings your past has left you with, it’s up to you to parse out what people say and what people mean. If you truly thought that I did not want to help you, you would not be here now. I would not be here now. You’re not supposed to know, you’re supposed to ask. And you’re supposed to believe.” She stood up, then, and made her way around the table, slowly, watching Morgan struggle with her sobs. She stood next to her, crouched down, looked her square in the eyes. “I would have given my life if it meant helping you, Morgan, but I will not give my soul and I will not give my morals. They are the only things I have left. Surely you can understand that much.”

Morgan deflated, chastised into a fit of choked hiccups as she struggled, hand clamped over her mouth, for composure. She scrunched up in her seat like a guilty child, eyes screwed shut until she heard Rebecca come closer. It was awful, and unfair--so unfair that her hopes should have rested on someone who had lost so much too, who couldn’t afford to give up the last thing she had left in the world. What kind of fucked up universe pitted them against each other like that? What bullshit balance put Mike inside Rebecca’s body, just to topple everything over for Morgan, for both of them. She nodded, leaning into Rebecca until her head came to rest on her shoulder. “It’s not fair,” she sniffled, shoulders shaking as she spoke. “I hate this, I hate how it’s all so unfair.” Sniffled again. “That sounds stupid, I know it does,” she tried to breathe through the knot in her chest, and sobbed anyway, laughing at the absurdity of a zombie trying to solve anything by breathing. “And I don’t mean you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I needed you, and you had your evil ghost, and everything was so awful and fucked...it’s just been hard. It’s not your fault I couldn’t catch a fucking break from my stupid curse and the stupid universe shakes out like this for me.” She pulled away, wiping her face again. “I’m sorry. That you hurt like I do, or anything close. That’s why I came. Just so you know.”

Rebecca let out a long breath when Morgan laid her head on her shoulder, wrapping an arm around her, patting her back gently. “I know,” was all she said. Because for all the words she was always able to find, there were no words in any language, that could make what was happening to either of them fair or okay. “I wouldn’t say stupid, no,” she mumbled, laying her head on top of Morgan’s as she searched the shelves, wondering if they could tell her how to undo the unfairness of the universe. “But it only wins if we back down in the face of it, this unfairness. Which is unfair in itself, but, I suppose...that’s just the lot we were dealt,” she went on, looking back down at the table when the books provided no answers. “Misery loves company after all, doesn’t it?” She sighed again. “Perhaps it’s just nice to know we’re not alone.”

Morgan shifted closer to Rebecca as she brought her head to rest on hers. “It’s still the fucking worst,” she mumbled. “I mean, I was cursed, but what did you ever do? What did any of us do, you know?” She let go of her arms and leaned in, muttering, “You can tell me if I’m too cold,” as she scanned the shelves around them. So many words, so much work, and not a single page that could crack why they had to suffer this way. With her curse gone, she was supposed to have an easier time, but even this new body, this new life scraped and stitched together ramshackle style from the bones of the old one felt just as hard. Different kind of hard, but still. When the quiet had stretched out long enough not to hurt anymore she said, “You’re not. Alone, I mean. I get it, how you can’t stop even when you sort of want to. How even having something you want can still hurt. And I’ll help make sure you’re okay. If there’s a way for that to happen. I seriously don’t recommend the zombie escape hatch. It’s not much of a party. So...whatever I’m still good for, let me know. I’ll do it.”

“When I was younger, I thought I might be cursed,” Rebecca said softly, giving a sigh. “I didn’t even know magic existed, but what kind of a world would leave a child with grandparents who hated her? Who put locks on doors and bars on the windows. But I figured out, pretty quickly, that it’s not the universe that curses us,” she adjusted slightly, sighing, “it’s people. And places. And those things? Those things we can beat. Eventually. No matter how unfair.” At least, she hoped. As she cast another glance at the shelves, she decided in that moment that they had to be true. Otherwise, what was there left to believe in? “I know, Morgan,” she responded quietly, “I know I’m not. And neither are you. And, you know, we’ll make it through. Somehow. But we will.” She looked at the stack of books on the table, and although they were nothing compared to the shelves around them, they still somehow felt insurmountable. Rebecca let out a long breath. “We’ll be okay.”

#wr rebecca #wr chatzy #wr rebecca chatzy #word twisters

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lorei-writes · 5 years ago

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Witch!MC headcanons - further addition

Hello friends! It seems I’ll be turning those into a series! I’ll try to cover all the warlords available in the English version of the game (and for that reason, I’ll probably start Yukimura’s route next; 1st Part of Mitsunari’s character analysis will come soon! I know, I haven’t written many analysis post, but there’s still plenty of data I need to both gather and consume before I can write anything reasonable. I am not abandoning this idea, though). However, if you want to see somebody covered - let me know! In any way - even smoke signal are fine, haha. I’m always delighted to hear from you and it may influence the order in which I’ll write those - so, if you haven’t already, but are tempted to, you can even drop me anonymous ask. Or tell me not to publish it. Everything goes!

That being said, the headcanons allow me only to disclose so much detail. I have to omit some parts. So, if you are curious, read under the cut:

Behind the scenes: Witch!MC - Masamune & Nobunaga

Okay, for starters, let’s establish some things: I am very passionate about fantasy and world building in general. Writing a witch character is a magnificent idea to play around with the idea of magic systems - both hard and soft ones. And I think the contrast between MCs in the headcanons shows quite a lot!

Usually when creating a character with a magic present in the universe, I like to first work on the rules that govern the world. In case of Masamune’s MC, those are:

The witches do not posses the power of their own.

Their magic is simply the courtesy of spirits.

Everything that is alive or exists has a spirit.

The witches posses the ability to hear the spirits. It is said that the spirits whisper.

Since witches are the only ones able to communicate with those beings, they can ask them for favors.

Okay, so why was MC able to open up a portal? It was not her power.

Exactly! It was not hers. The spirits lent her the power when the soldiers decided to burn the forest and kill all the creatures inhabiting it. The phase: “ as long as the whispers coursed through her “ is not accidental - whatever they did to give her those extra abilities, it was basically like transferring a part of themselves. She was not trained in using them, she didn’t know how to - they could have given her the guidance in regards to protecting the forest, but other than that? Opening up the portal was basically like fight or flight response, it was an instinct.

Why didn’t she just give those parts back?

I do not know. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I didn’t have a chance to explore that in the headcanons. After all, it’s a rather brief form. Maybe it couldn’t be given back, maybe those parts got contaminated - who knows!

Okay, the cursed kisses part doesn’t make any sense now.

I do not agree. MC doesn’t know how to control those parts. She lacks any information on them - she cannot hold them in. If a kiss is a way for the whispers to travel to somebody else, the death is the “ripping apart” part from “ The magic required a balance to be established, or else it would rip the user to shreds”. MC doesn’t know how to put balance in place, ergo, her kisses kill. Maybe she even lacks power to establish one in the first place - that’s up to discussion.

The way the curse was uplifted is cheesy and doesn’t make much sense.

Whether it’s cheesy or not is up to discussion. But, again, it still works within the framework I’ve put up. Even if taken very metaphorically, whispers are still words, words that need to be said and can be silenced. In other words: Yes. It was a play on words. Yes. I used the fact that in the game, it was stated that Masamune is a damn good kisser. Yes. Her mind went blank - and so happened to the foreign parts. In other words, that idiot didn’t die only because he knows how to kiss a girl to make her speechless. Is it cheesy? Dunno, but it was sweet in my head ^^

I don’t know if you see it now, but if it was a full story, it would be clearly governed by those rules. Actually, even here, it kinda does, even if it’s harder to notice. I would say that this sort of magic system is closer to being a hard one than a soft one - the hard magic systems operate within a framework of rules, which soft ones lack (or the rules aren’t always applied, sometimes without a clear reason). It doesn’t meant that it’s necessarily a better system, btw.

Oh, and why did Masamune kiss MC in the first place?

He thought he might die of infection and didn’t want to regret never kissing her. Accidental save!

Now, to Nobunaga’s MC.

In contrast to Masamune’s MC, she has not acquired any real training, the knowledge was passed to her by accident. What do we know about her powers?

Well, she certainly can create illusions and govern the winds, she could control her palace, she can kill, but frankly - we do not know what exactly she can do. We don’t even know how much of her doing something is just a conjured image. Are there any rules limiting her power? Is there a boundary even she can’t cross? We do not know.

The only thing we are given is that she “ can grant one of your wishes, yet only the true one”. She can’t do that to herself (” Had I not been a mere tool, I’d crumble this universe to pieces”). That’s it. Period.

You can see the difference between her and Masamune’s MC, right? This magic system is way softer.

And that’s fine! It serves a different purpose. We aren’t supposed to know!

Masamune and MC’s story is of breaking the curse. Nobunaga and MC’s is one of breaking her defenses. The magic serves a purpose in creating her persona.

Who is Nobunaga’s MC?

She is a woman that faced abuse and has seen her friend suffer greatly for just supporting her. She wasn’t trained in magic. In contrast to Masamune’s MC, she wasn’t one of the other witches - she gained the knowledge by accident. Nobody taught her, she had no community. The only thing she did have was a goal, which she tried to achieve. We do not know how much of her powers beyond that one wish were actual powers - everything could have very well been an illusion. We are not supposed to know that.

I don’t like that MC. She’s nothing like the one in the game.

I mean, it’s fine. I wanted them to butt heads, to be strong willed and suited to rule.

How the hell did she win against Nobunaga if not thanks to her magic?

Ha! That’s actually really interesting, because in this part, the line between magic, her intelligence and manipulation is blurred. She did win three times, yet if it was for magic and reading his mind, why did she loose the fourth time?

“ There’s no use in continuing this. I already know what you will do. I’ve seen plenty men of your caliber throughout the years. You are all the same: think of power and nothing else.” - she never said she saw his thoughts. Whatever she did - we do not know for certain.

Why couldn’t he have approached her in Azuchi in different way?

Ha! That part is actually interesting. I know, those are just short headcanons, but they constantly try to outsmart each other - MC wins the game, but saves her favors in case she looses, Nobunaga demands her to come to Azuchi, she uses what she had already won against him, he grants her wishes in a way that suits him as well.

Giving her a garden was not a courtesy - it was a strategic move! I don’t know if you see it, but if MC was a castle, then what Nobunaga did was a siege. Again, word play: to see somebody - she used it as in to meet somebody, he - the literal meaning. I really like this part. Frankly, if I were more skilled, that could potentially turn into a really nice fic.

And that’s all from my side! I hope you don’t hate my blabbing, I may write something similar for other MCs once I finish the headcanons! :)

#my hc #blabbing #behind the scenes #justmethings

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trashcankitty12 · 5 years ago

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TV Show Tag Game

I was tagged by @darkpoisonouslove

rules: pick 5 shows, then answer the following questions. don’t cheat. tag 10 (or however many) people.

1. Legends of Tomorrow

2. NCIS

3. Winx Club

4. Supergirl

5. Steven Universe

what’s your favourite character from 1?

Hmmm.... Probably between Mick Rory and Sara Lance. Mick because he’s so unapologetically himself, even as he starts to grow and change a little. And Sara is the confident leader (after season 1) and I just... Love her chaotic bisexual energy.

who’s your least favourite character in 2?

Fuck.... There’s so many. There was a Ted Bundy-esque dude who I really fucking hated. And I despised this guy named Dearing.... And I wasn’t a fan of this back-up team that came in to hunt the P2P killer (port to port killer). Not to mention Chip was an asshole. And the Cartel Siblings that tried to kill/destroy Gibbs’ life....

what’s your favourite episode of 4?

I loved this episode in (i think it was season 3? or four?) when Kara and J’onn go to Mars and we see bits and pieces of J’onn’s past and we meet his father (who voiced J’onn in the Justice League cartoon!)

what is your favorite season of 5?

I really liked Steven Universe Future, the final season. It was... Cathartic and it answered many questions that I had. And it showed Steven growing up and learning more how to deal with himself and his own problems instead of the problems of those around him.

what’s your favorite couple of 3?

Flora and Helia. They clicked in just the right way. (Though I wish canon in both the comics and the show would at least try to line up instead of changing every time. But whatever.)

(My favorite non-canon/potentially canon in the past couple is Valtor/Griffin though... Just saying.)

what’s your favorite couple in 2?

This is a loaded question because damn does this have all the ships... But I’m going to have to say Tiva-TonyxZiva. They had chemistry from day 1 and it just escalated from there. Even now, after they’ve both left the team, they’re together with their daughter, Tali. (Who is played by an adorable little girl who’s name I can’t seem to find.)

what’s your favorite episode in 1?

I have quite a few. But the top is 1.03: Blood Ties.

One, we get to see how badass Sara Lance is and how awesome her training is.

We also get to see the limits of time travel and how sometimes “time wants to happen”. (Meaning you can’t just change fate.) This is a whole conversation brought on because Leonard Snart aka Captain Cold goes into the past to try and stop his father from going to jail the first time around. (Spoiler: It doesn’t work and Lewis Snart still ends up being an abusive bastard.)

what’s your favorite episode in 5?

On the Run. Holy shit this episode started off as the usual feel-good/filler episode... But then it quickly turned into more.

We see Amethyst’s roots and how she came to be and... And we see a glimpse into her self-loathing and I just... I want to cry thinking about it because it just... Hit home in so many ways.

what’s your favorite season in 2?

I’d say Season 3, simply because we’re introduced to Ziva. Or Season 4 (or was it 5) in which the team gets caught up in an inter-agency investigation that almost threatens their jobs....

how long have you been watching 1?

I’ve watched it since it first came out. I thought it’d be interesting, and boy... I wasn’t wrong.

how did you get into 3?

That’s a funny story... I was a kid and my local Cartoon Network (yes, it aired on CN for the first season, way back in the day XD )and I saw the ad for a new fairy show and was like ‘oh, this’ll be cool’. Little did I know how sucked in I would become.. XD

favorite actor in 4?

David Harewood. He’s the Martian Manhunter and I just... I love him. I also really love Katie McGrath... But I’m also in love with her so... XD

which do you prefer? 1, 2 or 5?

Currently 5. It just aired it’s final episodes and I’m still not over it.

which show have you seen more of, 1 or 3?

Technically I’ve seen more of 1, simply because I’ve not seen the end of one of the Winx seasons and I’ve missed one of the movies. But I’ve seen every episode, so far, of Legends.

if you could be anyone from 4, who would you be?

Do I have to be an actual character or can I create a character? I like me, but I think I’d like a version of me that’s a superhero. XD (I guess M’gann if I have to be... I hate how they did her story for Supergirl, but I do love the idea of being a Martian.)

would a crossover of 3 and 4 work?

Winx and Supergirl? Well... I mean... Stranger things have happened on both shows. (Supergirl even has an inter-dimensional imp that pops in from time to time to screw shit up. So I wouldn’t be surprised if he sent Kara and her friends into the Winx world. Also, picture this, a transformation sequence as Kara and her friends become their superhero selves. Just picture it.)

pair two characters in 1 who would make an unlikely but strangely okay couple?

Charlie and Constantine. They have this chaotic energy about them and I just... I live for it, okay? The chaos. The magic. The fun.

overall, which show has the better storyline, 3 or 5?

Winx or Steven Universe? Well... With the way things have been so far.... Steven Universe. I’m sorry, but they kept up with continuity and did awesome stuff and I just... I’m sorry, but they did better than Winx.

which has better theme music, 2 or 4?

NCIS or Supergirl? NCIS. Just... It has quite the soundtrack for seventeen seasons.

Tagging: @meluisart and @electra-jolts-magnetism and anyone else who wishes to do this.

#personal shit #personal #about me #learn about me i guess #personal stuff #ncis #legends of tomorrow #supergirl #steven universe #winx club

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fuckyeahcharmcaster · 5 years ago

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Yet More Venting

The more time passes and the more I think about it, the Ledgerdomain plotline that ran throughout UA and OV utterly baffles me. Beyond the usual main characters of the show, there are four major players here: Adwaita, Spellbinder, Hex and Charmcaster (Darkstar gets involved too, but accomplishes squat so there was really no reason for his presence at all).

My question is: what exactly were intended to feel toward these characters?

I literally have no clue, because the story was just that badly written.

Chronologically speaking, it all began when Adwaita found Ledgerdomain, obtained the Alpha Rune, went mad and became a dictator. That’s all well and good, but then we get to the humans of Ledgerdomain...namely that besides Hex and Charmcaster, there aren’t any more of them because Adwaita killed them all. He was fine enslaving every other race within the realm, but he hated humans so personally for “stealing” magic that he felt only he should use that he systemically captured, imprisoned and slaughtered them. Now what does THAT remind you of, exactly? That’s right, Ledgerdomain humans = Jews, Adwaita = Hitler. And remembering how Ben 10 handled their last Nazi allegories (the Highbreed), this should be immediately concerning. And sure enough, this aspect of Adwaita eventually gets brushed aside and he is allowed to have zany interactions with Gwen, Hex and Darkstar after having been restored to sanity through losing the Alpha Rune. He’s still evil, but it’s treated as just being garden variety evil, the genocide factor is forgotten entirely. And that’s just...awful.

Now that they’re revealed to be magical holocaust survivors, Hex and Charmcaster should be treated with more sympathy, right? Well, Hex certainly is, since he quickly reforms after this revelation is made to the audience. But Charmcaster remains a villain, even if an on/off kind of villain. And then we run into our next lapse in logic: according to the narrative, Spellbinder trusted his brother Hex to take care of his daughter, he gave them passage to Earth and sacrificed his life in the process. And yet Hex doesn’t take care of Charmcaster, he abuses her and forces her into a life of evil-doing because he’s pissed and wants to conquer Earth so that he can ultimately fight Adwaita’s world full of enslaved sentient beings with his own world full of enslaved sentient beings. Hex is thus portrayed as a massive hypocrite who spit on his late brother’s wishes, and yet we’re supposed to accept him becoming a good guy so easily?

Worse, he’s the one who forced Charmcaster, as a literal child, onto the road to villainy. And yet this fact goes almost entirely unaddressed the entire time while he’s a good guy and Charmcaster’s still a bad guy. They even play it in a way where her staying a bad guy is a reason we should feel sorry for Hex! What the fuck? If Darkstar was good for anything here, it was being the sole person to acknowledge this discrepancy (Gwen is trapped in a bag with Hex, Darkstar and Adwaita; Hex tells Gwen that none of them are responsible for this situation to which Darkstar says “Speak for yourself, “Uncle Hex” - she’s YOUR niece.” Basically Darkstar’s way of saying “she learned it from watching you, you fucking asshole.”)

Oh, and speaking of Charmcaster, what’s the reason the narrative decides to keep her a villain? Because after being embittered by the other rebels turning on her for the sake of power after she deposed Adwaita, she ultimately claimed the Alpha Rune and decided to sacrifice every soul in Ledgerdomain in order to bring her father Spellbinder back to life. Yes, that includes all the creatures that serve her and all those that did not partake in the rebels’ treachery and bloodshed such as the golem Ignatius. If Charmcaster was operating under any logic, she would have known her father wouldn’t want that, and that he’d reject a return to life brought about that way, that committing genocide is putting her on Adwaita’s level...and yet she isn’t and doesn’t, which means she goes through with it and the only reason it doesn’t stick is due to Spellbinder’s choice, not from her’s. In-universe, the question is raised as to how sorry we should feel for her afterward, and it’s not given a conclusive answer which just makes the whole thing seem pointless, confusing and mean-spirited. Why couldn’t Charmcaster just have stayed reformed after “Where the Magic Happens”? Kevin 11 and the Highbreed were reformed with less effort, so why drag it out with this character?

And as much as OV tries to forget about this whole thing, it also gives Charmcaster a forced reason to be a villain that undermines any sympathy you may or may not ought to be feeling for her: she’s listening to advice for Adwaita. Yes, the same Adwaita who killed her father and the rest of her kind. The excuse given is that she’s not in her right mind due to stress and the Alpha Rune triggering a mental breakdown, but even that hardly seems sufficient since she clearly isn’t crazy to the point of forgetting who Adwaita is and what he has done. She, Hex and Adwaita all just come off as skating by on their truly despicable choices and actions.

The only character who should come out unscathed is Spellbinder...and yet somehow they manage to fuck that up too! When he is brought back to life by his daughter’s genocidal ritual, he is naturally horrified by it and elects to return to being dead in order to restore all those souls. Perfect, that’s exactly the reaction he should have. The problem is that there’s no pressing time limit, so before returning to being dead he could easily try pressing his daughter for details as to just how and why the fuck she got to the point where she thought this bullshit was acceptable, locate the root causes, and ensure that this kind of thing never happens again: that his wishes for her get fulfilled this time. The simple act of making her promise to live on the straight and narrow for now on otherwise he’ll be eternally rolling in his grave would be enough, given how her love for him is clearly verging on psychotic levels.

But no, instead he just bemoans that she ever came back to Ledgerdomain and says she went against his wishes (without acknowledging his brother and his role in this, I notice) and tells her “you became a worse tyrant than Adwaita ever was”. Not only is this very tactless given the circumstances of Charmcaster’s mental state, but it doesn’t even add up: what Charmcaster did was horrifying, but she did it all at once through a magic ritual and was motivated primarily by love for her father...whereas, again, Adwaita literally re-enacted the Nazi way of committing genocide and did so purely out of hate for the realm’s humans. That’s a world of difference that means there was still the possibility of steering Charmcaster the right way, and Spellbinder all but ensured that this possibility would NOT happen with his words! You don’t tell a dangerously mentally unstable person something that is guaranteed to make them more mentally unstable. You just don’t. Where is the fucking logic in doing so? It’s like telling a suicidal person on a ledge “Just go ahead and jump; it’s what you deserve!”

When last left off, Spellbinder was still dead, Adwaita was on the loose but having lost his supreme Alpha Rune-granted power, Hex was given a comfortable position of privilege as a university professor, and Charmcaster was undergoing magic rehab whenever she wasn’t being made to compete in weird game shows. If the story was a good one, the question should now be “where do they go from here?” But the real question is “why should I care?”

Ugh. Charmcaster circa OS, or even circa AF, deserved better than this shit.

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polarishq · 4 years ago

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Meet NADEZHDA “Nadia” STERANKA. They are SIXTY years old and hail from ODESSA, UKRAINE . Nadia embodies the star, CAYREL’S STAR. They use she/her pronouns. Their faceclaim is STAV STRASHKO.

Cayrel reminds me of messy ponytails, childhood crayon drawings, radio static, scraped knees and dirty feet from running barefoot, glass coke bottles, a lucky pair of socks, smudged eyeliner, a daughter in nothing but title, cracked mirrors (seven years bad luck but who’s to say its your bad luck?), wishing wells, a love of all colors but red, iced coffee as the superior beverage, moral ambiguity, and carefully tended grudges.

BIOGRAPHY

The thing about little girls (even little girls raised in the tail end of communism ; even little girls once mistakenly thought to be little boys) is that they know how to embrace the world as their playground. Nadia was born to a flaky mother and absentee father, but her circumstances were inconsequential. What she lacked in wide open fields, she made up for in creating an imaginary world that stretched as far as her street’s long row of Soviet-era apartments. What she lacked in decent parental figures, she found in the care and acceptance of her maternal grandfather. What their community lacked in wealth, Nadia replaced with an imagination that turned their limited space into her own fairytale world

It helped that her grandfather (unlike her mother) encouraged her in everything she did, even when communism tried to dictate everything outside of their home. All Nadia need to do was ask, and he’d do whatever was in his power (both figuratively and literally, using magic) to make it happen, up to and including the day Nadia asked that he stop referring to her as his grandson. A few memory charms on the people they interacted with on a regular basis (to simply reintroduce Nadia by her gender identity would’ve been dangerous for the time), and that was that. Looking back on it, Nadia can note the distasteful switch in her mother’s interactions with her after that point, but did that really matter? To her, no. Her family was her grandpa and their neighborhood, and what remained were footnotes to her story.

Nadia never had to learn of the existence of magic — it was all around her from day one, so most of her formative years were spent awaiting her own star mark. When it finally appeared though, in the crook of her elbow at age twelve, no one could really tell her what it meant. Which sucked, but at least it meant Nadia had powers, and that was something, right? The entire story of how she discovered her magic is rather simple. She’d been walking down her apartment hallways, idly thinking about a pair of earrings she’d seen on a model in a magazine, when she stopped to look in the hall mirror. When she saw herself exactly as she was, except wearing the same earrings she’d been imaging, she had to reach out to make sure she was really looking in a mirror. Her hand passed clear through the glass, and then back towards her with the earrings folded in her fist.

You shouldn’t give a twelve year old that kind of power, much less a twelve year old growing up in that environment. She knew enough not to go overboard after trying a few more times to make sure it wasn’t a fluke, but she did abuse it more than she cares to admit. A nice new hat for her grandfather, a slice of honey cake from her favorite bakery when she couldn't make the trip, a very specific looking collar for her cat — small things, but enough for Nadia to know that she had it made.

As she grew older (and, as her grandfather grew older), Nadia learned to use her abilities for... not necessarily good, but for good intentions. All she had to do was imagine a high price item and it would be hers with just a pluck. Her building was full of people willing to help her sell her new goods, no questions asked. And her grandfather, thinking the world of her, rarely questioned here Nadia came up with money to help support them. No one was getting hurt. That’s what she told herself... until her grandfather unexpectedly came home while Nadia was hands deep in another dimension. She’d not told him about her powers, so to be discovered caused her to panic. What followed was her waking up on her bedroom floor, looking up at her grandfather and the living breathing person she’d dragged through the mirror, now stranded.

Everything after that seemed to crumble. Her grandfather refused to accept anything she gave him without proof of where it had come from, so she couldn’t help provide for the household like she once her. Her feelings for her flake of a mother became twisted, resulting in endless screaming matches on the rare occasion they were in the same room. Her new roommate/foster sibling/dimension buddy was... a complicated matter, we’ll leave it at that. It wasn’t until the fall of the USSR in 1991 that there was a shift, and their little cohort immigrated to the States a few years later.

What they don’t tell you about being a little girl with an active imagination is what you grow into an adult with much the same. And when simply imagining something is enough to create a new dimension for your picking, it’s hard to resist temptation. Nadia’s grandfather passed away in the last decade, and although it broke her heart, she has since started to slip back into old habits. Moving to Polaris Village was a business move, really, even if most of her time should be focused on school. The people at Polaris rarely care where you get something from, so long as they can get it.

Nadia is something of a walking black market nowadays — if you need something hard to find, just give her a description and she’ll pluck it from another world. And in return, she gets paid. She had her limits, of course — nothing fang will cause another person harm, no illicit materials, and nothing living (not again). Her grandfather would be disappointed, she knows this. But, as always, Nadia justifies. The more practice she gets, the closer she can get to dimension hopping. And that means she’s one step closer to sending her person back home. So in the long run, she’s doing a good thing. Pocketing the money is just an added bonus.

INCLINATION

As one of the oldest known stars in the universe, Cayrel’s Star knows that there are endless other universes to be seen. The witch or wizard is capable of accessing alternative realities via mirrors, and in a manner of speaking, can control which multiverse they’re peering into. The witch or wizard looks into a mirror while craving an apple fritter? Their reflection becomes the alternate universe version of themselves that just so happens to be eating an apply fritter at that exact moment. Then, it’s simply a matter of reaching through the mirror and bringing the object from Universe B into Universe A. Some sponsees have even been able to move through dimensions, though this is highly prohibited. The bigger an object, the more energy is needed to bring it into this world.

CONNECTIONS

Half-Sibling: Nadia’s mother was largely absent from her life, so she really knows nothing about the woman who gave birth to her. One thing she is clueless about is that her mother had another child (either older or younger, I’m not fussed!) that she gave up and let be raised either as an orphan or to be adopted out. Whether they somehow know about Nadia is entirely up to you, but they would at least know their birth mother’s name. Do they want to know more? Does it not matter to them? Will they and Nadia ever meet? YOU TELL ME.

Mirror Mirror: The tricky thing about interdimensional exchanges is that you have to be very careful about what you grab. Nadia learned this lesson when she accidentally dragged someone rather than something into this universe. Having no idea how to either reimagine their universe or to return them, the only solution was for them to stay with her. They can have become close friends or maybe they deeply resent Nadia for displacing them. Maybe they’re close friends while also resent her. Who knows!! (Since this person is from a completely different dimension, there’s a lot of leeway in their magic. They may even be an alternate dimension version or the alternative sponsee for another character, but make sure to get permission first)

Frequent Buyer: Someone (or multiple someones) who enjoy hard-to-find items, otherwise known as Nadia’s specialty. They pay her on time and have established a good enough rapport that, who knows, maybe she’ll soon be willing to break some of her own rules regarding what she brings back.

Penned by Jeanne ★

#jeanne.#taken.#student.#air.#cayrels

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aura-loveshine · 5 years ago

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Fringe-dweller’s true tales.

I looked up at the half moon, and thought “this will be the 5th full moon since you died”...

Three nights before you were so suddenly taken from the physical earth, you camped overlooking the beautiful large body of water. you explored the multifaceted countryside, you were always like a kid when it came to exploring. you would have honoured and felt connected with nature. you would have sat with a j and admired the full moon on Friday the 13th. it would have been so beautiful to see the full moon over the water, the reflection, the light bouncing off the rippling water and quartz crystal sparkly rockbed...

I hope those days spent at that campsite were healing, I hope you felt at peace, I hope you spent those days happy, content. I imagine you playing guitar and adventuring with our magic merlin dog, enjoying the wildlife, the peacefulness. I imagine you listening to the abc radio you loved and talking to the other campers, sharing your quirky unique self, making people laugh, or think. I imagine you satisfied to have achieved the long time goal to drive to the tip of Australia, from Cook Town to Cape York in your FWD. I imagine you had chocolate or something sweet even though you were running out of everything else.

I wonder if you dreamt those nights... I wonder if you had a feeling something was coming. I wonder about the last conversations you had with tribe. i wonder about where you thought the wind might take you next. I wonder if you actually were on your way to visit me... ill never know whether I/you/we could have done anything to change what happened... I can't believe after all the physical pain you endured through-out your 34 years, that you experienced pain in your last alert moments... I think about our dog being with you when it all happened...

I imagine you loving being omnipresent, exploring the universe in your cosmic pirate-ship with Xena, your beloved 17 year old dog. I'm not surprised she passed 12 days after you... I'm glad your both free of your aching sore physical bodies. You both lived so adventurously. you and Xena are the only ones I know that can say they lived in their vehicles/bus for over 11 years, driving over a million kms around and through Australia. I also don’t know anyone else that helped as many fringe-dwellers as you did, loved and supported so many beautiful women without trying to take it to a sexual level, who invited people to travel with you and see new incredible parts of Australia. you saved forests, educated people, changed Bunnings national policy, inspired people to live better and more freely, you lived more in your short life-time than anyone I know. you experienced pain, near death experience, limitation childhood abuse and death of loved ones and still managed to be the incredible being full of enthusiasm with an open heart and playful inquisitive nature.

I was relieved to hear you had been reconnecting with your mum and family. that our close friends had quality time with you before everything changed... I know you knew there was a high chance of you dying while on the road due to road death statistics... but all the justifications can't outweigh the heaviness of not being able to message you, call you, find out where you are now, what your building or what fascinating experience you’ve had recently.

You were the first and only male partner I have shared a ‘de facto’ type lovership with, having only been with women until you. you were so respectful, you were loving and gentle... travelling in a old coaster for 6 months with you living a true dream... you built us a bush shack in two weeks, you built us a bush palace in a month and a half, all while been technically ‘disabled’... you showed me sacred sites of Australia, you climbed into caves, swam in ocean with crocodiles a few kms away,, we ate dinner alone with Dick Smith in the desert, casually chatting. you introduced me to Robin Mutoid at Burn out, I loved sitting with you and Robin in the coaster watching you two light up talking about mad hatter genius building ideas... and plans to create an explosive pineapple grenade to the filming we were doing.

Some of my favourite memories of my life-time, have been with you. I cherish you, I cherish my photos of you, I'm relieved I didnt listen to you when you told me to stop taking photos and be in the moment, but now I can look at those memories when I need to see you. every time I see a old coaster van I'm going to think of you... so many things remind me of you... having merlin with me is the silver lining, I'm relieved she was safely found after 15 days of being missing in the bush. I'm relieved she's with me. but I wish I was instead bringing her back to you...

You led such an incredible life I hope to share your stories and pictures with the world. you inspired so many people while you were alive... and even after... thousands of people read about your death on social media and tv... the articles and posts used the photos I took of you. it was surreal to see you and our dog in articles, for what happened to be so publicised... for a tragedy so personal to be used as ‘grief porn’... I hope to use the publicity of it all to make change to the stretch of road. needs better signage, a lower speed, something! I can't get it out of my head that you were the 9th fatality out of 30 accidents in 31 years, within a 4km stretch of road... 9 fatalities is too many. 9 is the final number. you are the last one to be taken out there...

The bush fires started raging not long after you died... in a strange way, the fires seemed fitting in my state of grief. Our lives were all forever changed... I was forever changed. The fires burning for months. My grief, anger, shock and feeling of helplessness burning inside me for months. the sense of emergency through out the country, the sense of disaster within me.

It was all a bit much trying to deal with you dying, Xena dying, merlin being missing for 15 days and everything else that happened over the next 2 months as well the fires raging, rainforests burning, native wildlife in crisis, homes burning, people dying and the nation all in panic and smoke. Being 1500kms away from my forest home and family while the fires burned out of control less that 40kms away, with road blocks and potential fires in between. Trying to have your life celebration festivities while experiencing heavy rain, wind warnings and strained tumultuous emotions all round... thunder and hail while my mums saying she is taking all my valuables and art to a safe house coz the fires are getting closer, and they are prepping to have to evacuate with the dog, cat, ducks and chickens... luckily, it never came to that, the fires were contained 25kms away from our home, contained only 20kms away from my closest town, a well known beautiful alternative community.

A moment that will always bring a smile to my heart, was when I was finally driving home. Id had a really rough night, id been holding so much in, trying to just get through everything to get home, id started falling apart... we had just started driving, when we saw a small’ish’ dust devil. the ‘tornado hunter’ part in me instantly wanted to drive up the near by road to chase it. I held back, until I heard my friend say “we could throw some of him ashes into the dust devil”... and I zoomed up the road as quick as I could. although the little twister had gone out of reach, I trustfully threw some of your ashes towards it. my heart felt uplifted as I watched the ash catch, float up and dissolve toward the dust devil.

You weren't scared of dying, you lived actively seeking to push your own limits, always with a cheeky grin. but you always landed like a cat, you were always there, doing your thing... alive. you always came back... you would have heard about the fires and driven straight to help, you would have fought the fires like you had before. you would have used the experience as a way to further pursue actual change for the planet, would have been apart of the vocal community questioning how the government failed to protect and how we needed to have upheaval and revolution...

You drove so safely on the roads. I dont know what happened to the other driver, except that he was seemingly uninjured. was it actually an unfortunate accident? or did the driver lose control going around the corner at 130kms in a 100 zone....

Was it really ‘your time to go’? if I hadn't been to the crash site and dealt with all that I have, I might fantasise the idea that you pulled the ultimate fucked up prank, that your hiding out in your doomsday bunker, mischievously laughing at no one knowing your alive, being completely ‘offline’, plotting the moment to reveal yourself... to see you, hug you would be....

We separated as lovers 15 months before you died, as we had to go on seperate journeys, we had to become individuals again. we were both struggling with very different things, we had to salvage our friendship and love, to take a break, allow some time... and then... you died 7 hours away, on your way to my area... on your way to see me and Xena.. I can't help but feel I'm being punished somehow, question if I shouldn't have made you leave. you might still be alive... am I silly to dwell on thoughts like that? I thought we had more time.

All I can do is live passionately, continue to be inspired by you and cherish you and our time together, learn from my experiences, healing these wounds by living, by loving, by sharing truth, by having daily gratitude and celebrating the positive events and changes as they come.

I know, for a long time, I will count each passing full moon...

You will always be my gypsy pirate king.

Fly Free my Lover. I'll see you on the other side once again.

#writing #writeblr #original writing #angst #gypsy #pirate #king #bohemian #hippie #australia #bushfires #truth #car #death #aura loveshine #fringe dweller #love #activism #moon #inspiration

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faean · 5 years ago

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A Solitary Paradise

Author’s Note: This is a bit of a special work, dedicated to the illustrious @xmalereader. A simple request of a unique utopia featuring an owl, and with the creative freedom to do as I please (a freedom I intend to abuse). Now, without further ado, I present- “A Solitary Paradise”.

P.S.- I do apologize if the note sounded somewhat sarcastic; I am afraid that is simply how I speak/write, and am trying to work on avoiding it (not really, but eh).

P.P.S.- I got far too carried away writing this, so I believe my writer’s block to be gone. I thank you for this.

------

“Your owl is acting macabre, again.”

“And again, I don’t know what an ‘owl’ is. It’s an artificial intelligence designated-”

“Yeah, yeah. I know, he is one of your metal constructs birthed to ‘scan and interpret foreign entities and languages.’ And do not bother with the ‘designation’ anymore; we cannot fully understand some aspects of each other’s languages. I think the fundamental differences of our respective realms-”

“Two weeks we’ve been traveling together, and I still can’t get over the way you speak. I figured a realm of pure magic and no science would be backwards.”

“The same could be said of your realm of science with no magic, not to mention the casual way you speak. Regardless, both our realms managed interdimensional travel and determined this place to be the only utopia to exist in every foreseeable timeline. Now, if we could continue with our venture, I would prefer to spend this night under a roof.”

The one of science nodded, and their contraption flew up to roost on their shoulder before the two beings resumed their search for the utopian society. It was a peculiar situation the two found themselves in. They were both sent to this timeline in search of the supposed paradise in hopes of learning from them and applying that knowledge to better their own societies, but neither would be allowed to return until they acquired that knowledge.

---

Science and Magic, respectively. Both were mere concepts and fairytales in the opposing worlds, but both progressed along a similar trajectory, resulting in the simultaneous discovery and utilization of interdimensional travel. Whereas one relied heavily on devices and the aid of artificial intelligences to learn of the new realm, the other relied solely on spells and chants to do the same; there were few, if any, things that one could accomplish that the other could not.

It took mere moments upon their meeting of one another to realize they speak the same language, but had entirely different environments that led to disparate cultures, writing, mannerisms, and even flora and fauna.

Science saw generic and genetically similar flora while Magic experienced diverse creations of the earth.

Where science studied and experimented on their limited fauna born of evolutionary mutations, Magic raised and thrived alongside the myriad of creatures birthed by their deities.

When Science took to the stars and encountered new life, expanding their own knowledge of the fundamental aspects of the universe, Magic embraced the vast unknown and welcomed every creation who wished to share their travels of the void.

But how they ended up in the same situation is still a mystery. The governments of both worlds are mismanaged to the point of war and collapse; every illness they could possibly face exists; the environments of both are beginning to wither; and whispers of a bloody revolution are everywhere.

This utopian society is their final, most desperate, hope for change...and neither can afford to fail.

---

“This... This isn’t what I expected.”

“Nor I. Perhaps we made a misjudgment of our whereabouts. Let us find lodging, and we can rectify this. I believe this is the-”

“Ah! Visitors! Welcome, welcome! It has been too long since we have seen some new faces. What may I call you two handsome men?” The attendant of the inn asked.

“Handsome?”

“Men?”

The two were beyond confused, but what perplexed them most was not the already asinine chances of sharing a language with yet another realm, it was the utter lack of a visible utopia.

The one of science was already reviewing his calculations, while the one of magic attempted every spell of clarity he had to shed some light. Both came to the same result.

They were in the right place. Then, if they were in the utopia, why did it look so... Not utopian?

The one of science expected a walled castle town of lights and technological marvels, with an equally technologically minded government ruling it. Instead, the sky was lively with what he could only assume is magic.

As for the one of magic, he hoped for a sprawling city of bountiful magic and divine blessings, with a government as equally blessed advising it. But then the streets would not be bustling with what he could only imagine is science.

“I take it you two came from the realms that run parallel to ours, no? Let me guess... You,” the attendant pointed to the one of science with his mechanical bird, “are from the dimension that has only science. And you,” the attendant pointed to the one of magic with his intricate markings, “are from the one with only magic, no?”

The two merely nodded, taken aback by their situation.

“And, I presume you are both here in search of a utopian society, no?” They nodded, again. “I can assure you that you are not the first, nor will you be the last, to come here in search of answers. So, let me get you two some drinks and food, and I shall answer any questions you have.”

With that, the attendant led the two to a table before going off to get their provisions. They used this time to formulate and consult, wanting to ensure they got all the information they needed.

“All right, here you two boys are. Now, questions. One at a time please.”

The one of science asked first. “What did you mean by 'handsome’? My A.I. can’t find it in its databases, and we’ve catalogued most everything known, including every adjective for describing, well, anything.”

“I imagine so, it is something best understood by magic. A single word can evoke emotions and thoughts never before experienced, flooding you with warmth. Your realm knows only the practical and technical applications of the mind.”

The one of magic asked next. “And what had you meant by ‘men’? I am aware of the physical differences between creations that allow for reproduction, but we have no such descriptor.”

“So I had thought, it is something known best by science. The biological, physical differences that exist within a species that allow for diversity in an otherwise stagnate genetic pool. Your realm feels only the iridescent beauty of the soul.”

The two blinked first in astonishment, then again in confusion. The one of magic voiced their concern.

“I apologize for any misunderstandings, but you did not exactly answer our questions. I also do not see what the mind and soul have to do with us, nor with our search in what makes a utopia. So, I ask what makes this place, so vastly different from our own, the only society to be such?!”

“Feisty.”

The attendant eyed the one of science knowingly before turning back to the one of magic. “The two of you truly are handsome, and are definitely men.” The attendant said with a slight purr, looking the two over. “You question whether I gave you an answer. And you ask why we exist so harmoniously when your respective worlds are on the brink of destruction. Let me ask one thing before I give you two your answer- Why do you think your worlds need this knowledge?”

Once more were the two travelers taken aback, and several minutes went by in complete silence as they thought. And as several more minutes passed without a word being said, a sigh of defeat broke the quiet night.

“You do not know why, as you should not know why we are a utopia.” The attendant leant back into the seat, crossing his arms after moving his hair out of his face. “But I shall-”

“I have had enough of your cryptic ‘answers’!” The one of magic slammed his fists on the table, magic escaping from them and scattering the drinks and food. “My home is dying and you have the gall to speak to me in such a manner?!”

Riled by his companion’s behavior, the one of science spoke out, too. “He’s right! Trillions of lives are at stake and you sit there, smug and unyielding! How can this realm be a solitary paradise when all you’ve done is treat us like children?!”

The attendant smiled, sitting up and leaning forward, his hands laced beneath his chin. “Heart.”

“And just what-”

“That was what I was waiting for. For the two of you to reveal your hearts to me, as that is what your worlds are missing. You each understand the laws of your respective universes, but only through the lens of one aspect of life. While you both need the understanding the other possesses, you would still be fundamentally incomplete without heart. Something you only just now began to embrace.”

“So... We need to learn about each other’s perspective, and about heart, but...” Turning to his A.I., the one of science pouted. “How would we do that? We spent eons learning our universe, how are we supposed to learn about two others and save our realms in time?”

“I find myself apologizing again. I only wish to aid my people, but he speaks the truth. How are we to learn of two societies histories, especially when all are so vastly different?” The one of magic settled down, concern lacing his face.

“It is simple. The two of you shall remain here, studying intently to gain the understanding you desire. Until then, you cannot return to your worlds to share the knowledge here, though I imagine you would be unable to, regardless.” The attendant stood before beckoning them to follow. “I will be happy to share what I can until that time comes.”

The two followed, a single thought at the forefront of their minds:

Anything for my people.

------

Well, that is all I could do in two days time. I would like to thank @xmalereader again for helping me with my writer’s block, as well as giving me the chance to do something a bit more my pace. I hope everyone enjoys this!

#special order?#requested works #and #original works #enjoy you heathens

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fairestmusesismoving · 5 years ago

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Rumple

Welcome to my second TED Talk….hahaha sure to get me in trouble with so many people. This is even more loaded than Ruby.How I feel about this character?I mourn Rumple and all his potential because there was so much there. So many things that could have been done. All of it was wasted for what felt like a whispy teenager soap opera that had no real merit or consequence. Because deep down…I did like Rumplestiltskin. I hated his fans with a deep passion because they wanted to turn this interesting character into a defanged whimpering whisper of what Robert Carlyle actually gave us. Rumplestiltskin was this interesting “universal glue” who kept popping up everywhere to make everything work as the strangest deus ex machina storytelling device that worked… And he worked very well because he was established early on, established to have a certain set of powers, motive, and even a few limits. This was really great! We had some rules so we couldn’t go into the realm of the over powered mary sue! That was fantastic! Rumple was realistic as a powerful character and the fact his interests were aligning with certain groups at the time? Hey, we had a real neutral character!And then by S3 we had to jam on the breaks cause “Wow what do we do when we remove all drive for Rumplestiltskin since he has Belle and we killed Neal?””I dunno! No idea!”It was infuriating because had all of this been drawn out and everyone focused on different aspects of Rumplestiltskin rather than mashing him and Belle together like that scene in Space Balls , we could have had something that was worthwhile and not like some drastic whiplash from S1 that really doesn’t make sense considering the trauma of Neverland and Oz then….pretty much everything else. There’s trauma and then just using a character because you’re bound to pay that person since they’re still under contract and “well the viewers love them and we want money”.Rumplestiltskin is a victim of “too much, too soon”, and fans who tried to demand too much and realized way too late that maybe Rumple needed slower reveals.All the people I ship romantically with this character:By default I have to say Belle, even though I hated what Rumbelle became in the final seasons. It needed work. Both Rumple and Belle felt like they were hurting each other in ways that made no sense given the previous seasons. I’d detail in depth, but that’s not the point of these little evaluations, is it? Also I’d need to make an entire blog to contain every single moment evaluated to show each action and which character does what. It’s a lot.In the end I still have to give it to Rumbelle even though I wanted a lot more for it.I ship no one else romantically with this character. I especially do not ship Milah with Rumple. Sorry if that rustles jimmies. I am disabled. The behavior Milah displays around Rumple is abusive. Despite what some people may tell you on tumblr, ableism is offensive and acting in this way towards a person is abusive.You really can’t escape abuse in OUAT which boggles the hell out of me. When Milah engages in her acts of spousal abuse and ableism, it’s enough to make me go grab my inhaler because it really is how disturbing just how close and realistic her microaggressions are and how much they build up. There’s another scene in OUAT that sends me into this state, but Milah is in the second place position. Bolded because if you’re angry about my thoughts on Milah, maybe go read up on disability, ableism, and how couples treat disabled spouses after they’ve become disabled. It’s a huge topic and one that people don’t talk about. Considering I’m most likely to be abused by a loved one and that person will always be my spouse, it’s a healthy fear to have. Milah is that walking boogeyman.My non-romantic OTP for this character:I love Archie’s interactions with Gold. I love Henry’s interactions with Gold, especially in the “deleted” scene where Henry seeks Gold out to talk about Regina’s isolating him after Robin’s death. Honestly, Rumple needed to have more casual scenes with other characters because Robert Carlyle plays very well with other actors.Shots fired? Because Robert Carlyle acts in circles around Lana Parrilla, it often left her scenes seeming very childish and immature. It made the forced romance (it was Regina sexually assaulting Gold because he didn’t consent unless he was trying to get something form her but okay) even more uncomfortable due to her inability to stop yelling in an uncontrolled manner. Where Carlyle can channel and keep himself calm (or hell, any of the cast because I’d be redundant), it made pairing him with Lana a very poor choice very often.Why wasn’t Gold/Rumple utilized with other characters more? He was paired with the one-offs or guest characters fairly often, but never with anyone but Regina. This really did make the scenes look awkward. I’m saying that as an actor who has been trained to know what to look for. I noticed. It looks bad on the writer and director.My unpopular opinion about this character:I hate this strange Rumplestiltskin that people try to promote that’s weirdly romantic and mushy. I remember when there was an app on Facebook for Once Upon a Time and the Dearies RIOTED because Rumple wrote a letter to Belle shortly after the flashback events of Skin Deep. it was raw and very in character. He hated her but he loved her and knew that if he lost his powers, he couldn’t protect people he cared about. It was a good letter.The “Dearies” rioted until Adam and Eddy apologized and changed the app to have a letter that included instructions on “How to Use a Toaster”.Toaster Rumple is a Rumple I don’t want to exist and anyone who prefers Toaster Rumple? Butter my toast.One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon:I want to fix everything about Rumple. From S2 and onward. Finding Neal so soon/intertwining Baelfire’s plot with Emma’s/giving Regina a happy ending ruined Rumplestiltskin as a character. That’s VERY shots fired. I’m going to get unfollowed immediately for that and I don’t know if I should be happy about that or what…Baelfire needed to remain independent. The key to Emma and the Charmings was how Rumple manipulated the curse caster to get to A Land Without Magic and was counting on Emma to break the curse. That’s where it stops for the big involvement. Baelfire should have remained as Rumple’s own plot and for something to keep driving himself that he could eventually invite people into as he slowly became comfortable with others.But the worst of it truly is Regina. Rumple often warned Regina about her own morality and while that seemed hypocritical of her, he wasn’t wrong. As the series went along, she never actually changed her ways and we were introduced to a growing body count to her name that complimented S1′s rape, child abuse, various instances of inflicting bodily harm (some with the intent to murder), and so much I’ve lost track of. Having this person being handed a crown while Rumple gets a death so he can be “united with Belle” but he gets a kiss from the woman he was never interested in but continued her incredibly predatory advances?Yeah no. But Regina can’t have that ending unless you get rid of the one reminding her “All Magic Comes with a Price.” I guess that price was getting rid of the person saying that magic might cost your morality. A Mary Sue Palooza!

#anti regina mills #rumplestiltskin #ask meme #mun on fire #Anonymous

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sanerontheinside · 5 years ago

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Written for @caffeinewitchcraft‘s caffeine challenge!

[Prompt: A story told from the POV of someone who’s not part of the hero’s journey. No, their role is much worse. They’re the hero’s tragic backstory and they realize it a week before their death.]

He came to study with me in the winter, when the snows had crawled down from the caps and frozen and dried my garden. I wasn’t sure what he expected to learn from me, in this dormant time of year, before he knew his herbs and beetles. I told him so, and sent him down to the cellar to learn from the dried plants and the old books.

Not a single university-educated bone in the boy’s body. Which was partly just as well—those children think they know so much. But they only teach certain things at universities these days, and I’m not all that keen on teaching complex geometries myself. Then come the lunar orbits and the rotations of other celestial bodies nearby, and the interactions of plants, and drying and heating and—

And that’s if you’re lucky enough to find a student who knows the world does not revolve around them, but around a burning celestial flame. Alchemy is a complex art, built on everything at once. It’s the making of magic from science and maths, exploring the chaos within the order, and not the reverse. It isn’t for the faint of heart.

But he came with the recommendation of his village’s witch, a practical woman and an old friend. I suppose that’s the best I could expect, if I’d ever wanted a student.

(I didn’t).

She talked me into it anyway. In a letter. Awful wench, not even the decency to do it in person.

Addie has always had what I had not—a way with people, of inspiring trust and warmth. Or rather: one day I stopped trying, and discovered an immense freedom in speaking my mind. I lost my place as the court physician, and no longer had to curry to the whims of my betters. I lost my friends, and realised they’d never been friends to me at all.

I found Addie barely a month after that. I discovered the person I had once wanted to be, alive and well and thriving out in the great wide world, whereas I had felt throttled and sidelined since the day I came into the city.

He reminded me of you, she wrote. He sees that the world is broken and wants so very badly to fix it.

“And he thinks alchemy is the way to do that?” I muttered aloud in my kitchen.

Yes, he wants the power of this gift; he still thinks that power is the way to fix things. Yes, I know it should frighten me, you may keep your grumbly lecture.

I know you will not let him abuse your art.

Addie would never steer me wrong.

And she knew how to throw down a challenge, which certainly never hurt.

Her protégé was worthy of her praise. He learned fast, and he had a knack for it, much to my surprise. Instead of learning his herbs and beetles he sat that and charted and muttered and cross-referenced my many old books. Corrected half the Celestial Atlas in tiny marginalia. Found my old journals where I’d done my own calculations, and started studying those instead.

It is rare to have a student so willing and stubborn. Patient enough that he will wait for you to warm up to him, certain of his charm. He cared for my goats and chickens, kept my hearth clean, fixed my rickety gate and dusted the shelves. If nothing else, it was good to have the company.

And on late nights, the sky was high and clear, and he argued about the paths of the celestial flames with me, and argued about what it was that the gods were burning. Clever boy—I could see why Addie liked him. He told such fine stories, when he was finally sure I would listen.

He was hopeful. He was hopeful and certain and brilliantly clear in a way that I no longer was. He had a purpose and a belief, a fire lit from within. Sitting beside him on the long solstice nights, I felt like the cold of these mountain winters had seeped into my very bones. Or perhaps it was the cold and damp of the city and the king’s court, and I’d never really warmed through, even after all these years tending to my own, comfortable, clean fire.

Maybe he would burn strong enough for it to last. Maybe he could go out into the world, even down into the city, and light the way for better days. He was already so serious and so solemn, sometimes. He had the makings of that patient, constant force that whittles away stone and marks the passage of time with no more than an absent gesture.

And he made me miss one plucky village witch. Made me feel the way I had when I first met her, and realised that someone like her truly could exist. That unforgettable feeling, like filling your lungs full with air so cold and sharp and rarified that it feels like your heart might burst. They’ll be the death of me, I sometimes think, with their kind and solemn eyes, their unearthly patience.

Spring came, cold and grey and eerily still. I’d begun to send the boy out to the mountainsides, to investigate what enterprising young things had sprouted, what had braved the first thaw and would likely die the next frost, for Winter hadn’t quite finished with our corner of the world just yet. He wasn’t much for herbal lore, though I could tell Addie had tried to teach him.

We get few travelers in these parts; the ones who are lost rarely make it this far, and the locals try to avoid me. They’re not too overfond of mages, never mind that alchemists aren’t any such thing (well, only peripherally). A village witch succeeds in part because she can convince the villagers that she is harmless, and I have never been able to do any such thing.

They know. They only come to me when there is no one else to help them. A child sick with fever whom even the mages could not save, a plague among the cattle—these are the things that overcome the bounds of any fear.

I did not take the boy with me for this.

It was sheer misery: bitter cold and stillborn foals, cattle poisoned by polluted water. I was asked to do what even a mage couldn’t fix. There was one in the town’s inn, still, unwilling to give up or admit defeat. He looked haggard. It takes much from a being, tending to the fevered and the ailing.

But where a mage goes to the cattle, I go first to the water.

This is not what we called you for, the elders tell me.

“But you called me, so allow me to do my work.” To purify, to separate out what they cannot see is killing them.

This is what I would not have that young boy see: the way they shy from me. Maybe they will never hide from him, because he is not like me. He draws people to himself without so much as thinking of it. But I do not wish for him to ever see this gift we share as a thing of which to be ashamed.

“I remember you,” the mage said to me one day. “I saw you once, in the city. You were a member of the king’s court.”

The chill wind rippled across my back.

“You were well known for your work. We studied it, in my school.”

“That’s very flattering,” I said, still wary.

He chuckled. “Hardly. You were renowned, and a Master at the University, read around the kingdom.”

“I was renowned, and a Master at the University, and they burned my books when I left the city,” I told him.

It had taken me days to realise that he was actually quite young. Perhaps he did not know the story—how I left, and why.

Some days I still regard it as a terrible mistake. Days like this, when I am up to my elbows in poisoned water and pushed to the limit of my tolerance for cold stares. Days when I remember Addie’s patience, and the patience of that boy looking after my hearth and my goats, waiting for me to teach him.

I felt—these days, very often—that it was my greatest failure. How could I have dared to turn around and throw away everything I’d ever worked for? How could I, when I’d already done so much?

The mage frowned at me. “My school did not burn your books. Our Masters told us about you. You were... remarkable. I’ve always wanted to meet you.”

“Ah.” I shrugged, and squinted at my work. “Well, you know what they say about meeting one’s heroes.”

I bent down to fix the water filter into place. It was still too difficult to do, I couldn’t possibly expect the women of this town to have the time to fiddle with this thing as much as I had...

“I do,” he said. I heard him rise from my workbench, and move toward the door. “They’re far better in person.”

By the time I looked up again, he was gone.

The villagers paid me what I asked, with dark looks and hand-signs to avert evil. How kind of them, I think to myself with the slightest of smiles, to wish me on my way well-protected from meddling spirits.

The mage walked with me to the village boundary, still asking me about the filters, how to use them, where to put them. It was a strange thing, to enjoy teaching once again. Despite the misery of that place, I left it feeling a little lighter.

Just not for very long.

As I mounted the last hill between me and home I discovered that my hands were shaking. My heart raced too fast. Surely, I grumbled, I cannot be that old.

The cold sweat and the sudden gripping fear was what propelled me forward. The blinding terror made me run, dropping my satchels and precious tools haphazard on still-frozen ground.

There are rules that any mountain-dweller knows. You do not cross the path of certain things, you do not speak to masters of the mountain. If something speaks to you, you are polite, but you do not leave your answer open to another question.

You don’t invite a stranger in.

Rarely is there anything that wanders in these parts looking to make mischief. But young magicians are forever a target for such beings. Especially those of great potential.

The shadows are a hungry thing, here among the ice and rock, but no shadow can abide a fire. I sent embers spewing from my hearth, threw a rain of sparks through the unnaturally dark room. They fell upon the shadow-creature and it did not burn, but it pulled its tendrils tight, as if in pain. By the faint light I could just make out the child’s pale and frightened face—

—and the fine-scaled golden features of the thing that hovered over him.

Another rule: you do not show your fear. Oh, it smells fear on the wind—but you do not show it.

“There is a sign on my gate, and a rune on my door, and even the goats in my yard would have told you that you are not welcome. It is time for you to depart.”

It bared its teeth at me in something like a smile, wrapped the dark about itself and vanished without a word.

Too easy.

“Achim.”

The boy was curled in on himself in the corner, so small.

With a sigh, I crossed to the table and picked up my kettle. I set it to heat, and banished the soot from my floors. There was something to be said for heat and sweetness and spice, after such things. I approached him slowly and crouched down to tuck a blanket about his curved shoulders. “Achim, look at me.”

I nudged his chin up until I could see his eyes. “It isn’t coming back.”

“It—told me I could never—run far enough,” he stammered out through chattering teeth.

“And I’m telling you that I keep my word. Any being that does not keep to the contract is one you can bring low. This is your first lesson, child.”

First, and perhaps the last.

He watched me, wide-eyed, as I set the table. Watched me as evening fell. Watched me clean and hum and read until he fell asleep.

And when I was sure he did not dream, I pulled my shawl about my shoulders, and walked out the door to the edge of my grounds, to the garden gate that he had fixed for me.

The creature was still lurking there.

Actually, it loitered, rather as if it owned the place. It had a vaguely human shape, though of course appearance was the last thing you could trust. It leaned against the fence as if propped up at hip and elbow, lounging like an uninvited lover at the gate. The cloak of shadows hung from its shoulders, hood fallen free of the being’s head.

Mischief-maker, quicksilver trickster. People used to come up all this way into the mountains, searching for gold. There were stories of the yellow demon they saw glimmers of in the mountain streams.

“You are owed nothing. You came onto my lands at the invitation of one who did not even own them. Why do you linger?”

“He is young and powerful,” the golden creature said, “and the future that awaits him must not be.”

Another, less acknowledged rule: such beings are old and powerful, and if they speak of troubled times, perhaps it is worth a listen. Perhaps, or perhaps not. It is certainly a folly to ignore such warnings. The being that delivers it is never one that cares for your wellbeing. But if it worries for its own, then you may be sure: a mortal will not survive what follows.

“What future do you see?"

“Death to the mages and witches,” it said, without hesitation. “He will do what is right, he will bring light into the darkness, as you believe him capable of doing. But with that light, great unintended evils will spread through the world. The extinction of those who use magic, those who are magic, is not a change that this world can sustain.”

“And I suppose you are here out of enlightened self-interest,” I blurted, and cursed myself for my thoughtless mouth.

The being only smiled.

“That boy has a better chance than most,” I rallied. “He has a gift, and it isn’t just his magic or his knowledge. He has a chance at gaining enough wisdom to keep it in balance.”

“Maybe so. But you have always known that your faith is not enough to save anyone. Sometimes, there is simply nothing that you can do.”

I leaned heavily against the gatepost. “And if you know so much of me, you know I cannot let you take him. Because you have to try.”

That Achim should have come to me—that Addie should have sent him here—was a chance as slim as starfall landing in one’s yard. I had discovered not long afterward that the King had set his hounds to thinning out the ranks of learned folk outside the city. Achim’s parents had died for “spreading lies”—insisting that the factories had tainted the village water—and the only thing that saved their son was that he’d been practicing a little bit of simple trick-magic at Addie’s fire.

I must have been among the first to fall in the King’s war on the educated, five years ago. One of the learned folk whose names had been used to justify the slaughter of traitors, snobs, and liars—the evil that would bring the kingdom down.

Those who did not leave the city, as I had, had simply been murdered.

“Name a different price,” I told the shadow-creature from the mountains, and it laughed.

“A price for what? I did not come here for a deal.”

“Yet you will make one, because I have asked it of you,” I said. “I will abandon my charges no longer. So you will tell me what the price is for me to keep them safe.”

“Them,” the creature echoed, and raised a golden eye-ridge. “Who are they?”

The people I left behind in the city. The boy I refused to teach for so long, and now might never really get a chance to teach at all. Addie and that tired, curious mage who still thought me a hero.

The being stared at me.

“Come out, fair lady, dance with me,” the golden creature said at last with a wide, inhuman grin, and stretched out a long-clawed hand. “I find yours is a better mind to dance with than a child’s.”

I laughed, terrified, because I did not know what else to do. “That is your offer?”

Dancing, what was that supposed to mean?

It twitched its shoulders, like a shrug, and pointed up at the moon. “Until it turns, you have time to think on it.” It made a show of straightening out, dusting off its sleeves, and turned to go. “Seven nights, I believe, and remember that they grow ever shorter.”

“Wait! How am I not abandoning anyone if I am off—dancing?”

There were tales of diaphanous things dancing on the mountain winds, through the shadows in the canyons. The souls of dead climbers, some still think. There were stories of souls that danced with death. I had always thought the truth must be somewhere in between.

This wasn’t quite what I’d had in mind, however.

The being looked over its shoulder, and blinked at me, slowly, like a mountain cat. “The only truth you know of what lies beyond this place is that you can’t return to where you’ve been. You do not step into the same water twice in a mountain stream, Tali, yet you have never made the mistake of thinking that there is nothing beyond the stream.”

Between one breath and the next, the creature vanished.

I stayed and watched the moon for a long time, too numb to feel the cold. I thought, I’d never given you my name.

No—I don’t remember giving you my name.

I wasn’t sure which thought was the more terrifying.

Back in the house behind me, a young boy slept a dreamless sleep. In response to a nameless, shapeless threat against him, I’d thrown all caution to the winds, somehow bargained with my life. All in the name of a potential none could grasp.

And with a being that had the advantage of me, no less.

I won’t be able to teach him, I thought, and dropped that regret like a stone at the gate; one of those smooth, small stones that weighs far more than it looks like it ought to. Another rounded, heavy stone: I won’t be the one to watch him grow.

I’d waited too long, again. Old fool, still making the same mistakes as always.

I had a week to get my old journals in order. At least, as a university master, I’d been an obsessive scribe for my own affairs.

There was a tale I once heard, about a woman who learned the name of the fae that she’d entered into a bargain with, and that was what freed her from their deal. I did not recall making a deal with anything.

But then, I did once somewhat carelessly offer my heart and soul in exchange for being permitted to learn the secrets of the universe...

#something's always listening #caffeine prompts #caffeinewitchcraft #strange alchemicals #loose interpretation of 'not part of the hero's journey' and also 'death'#loose interpretation of the whole prompt #*quickly tosses fic out into the open before i can grow more doubts about it*

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rpgmgames · 6 years ago

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April’s Featured Game: Magical Disaster X

DEVELOPER(S): Atlas ENGINE: RPG Maker VX Ace GENRE: Comedy, Side scroller, RPG WARNINGS: Strong Language SUMMARY: Magical Disaster X is a zany comedic romp that has you control a posse of awful magical girls as they cruise through a secret hideout of hideously incompetent villains.

Play the IGMC version of the game here!

Our Interview With The Dev Team Below The Cut!

Introduce yourself! Heya I'm Atlas aka Melon Kid, making games is a serious passion of mine and I hope to stick with it for the long run, otherwise I occasionally do other junk like animation or slowly decompose in my chair as I disassociate from reality and become one with nothing, oh and I've been trying to get into art lately too.

What is your project about? What inspired you to create your game initially? *Atlas: I've always wanted to make a project that was outrageous and fun, but for a while I've never really had a proper vessel for it. But in the past year or so, I began recognizing magical girls as a seriously underappreciated genre in video games and I thought the two were a match made in heaven!

How long did you work on your project? *Atlas: I began concepting some stuff not terribly long ago but it was sitting on the backburner until the IGMC rolled around at the end of the year in 2018. The time limit for that contest was one month, so naturally I put it together in roughly a month too.

Did any other games or media influence aspects of your project? *Atlas: Oh yeah, a for sure influence is Panty and Stocking with Garterbelt, some people have actually picked up on that on their own which was pretty surprising to me - and there's no way I can't mention Space Patrol Luluco which so excellently captures the feelings I want to put into the game. Both of them are Trigger animes. . . coincidence? :3c

Have you come across any challenges during development? How have you overcome or worked around them? *Atlas: BOY HOWDY-- okay so basically, the first half of the contest was a disaster because I somehow had to condense all of the cool things I wanted to do in the frame of a one hour game. I literally spent the first two weeks just scrapping story ideas over and over because I just couldn't be content with anything, halfway into the contest I had virtually nothing to show for it. At some point with a little encouragement from a friend I just stuck with my best idea at the time and rolled with it and. . . it turned out not so terrible, but man was my brain on fire the whole time from overthinking so much. To make it worse, the artist who worked with me last year (Inazuma / Golden Mimic) was suddenly out of commission and wasn't sure if he could participate or not. It wasn't until the last stretches that I was able to scramble together and get some friends on board for the project to try and make up for all the lost time. Remember how I said I made the game in a month? Yeah that was a lie, this flaming pile of wreckage was cobbled together in just a few weeks of massive crunch, god bless you Floramy.

Did any aspects of your project change over time? How does your current project differ from your initial concept? *Atlas: The initial concept differs from the IGMC project which differs from the current iteration so yeah. It definitely changed over time. For the IGMC game, pretty much all of the features, story ideas, and characters were gutted to make space for a compact 1-hour experience that could best convey everything I wanted to do with the game. It's like the core concept on crack, because I wanted to squeeze in as much fun content as I could in that short amount of time.

What was your team like at the beginning? How did people join the team? If you don’t have a team, do you wish you had one or do you prefer working alone? *Atlas: At first it was just me and my artist Inazuma who I worked with last year, and then over the course of development it became me and @f-loramy, a very cool and handsome friend B^). And I definitely got a lot of support from other friends as well!

What was the best part of developing the game? *Atlas: I think the best part of development for me is seeing characters come to life. Story is such an integral part of everything I make and I love writing dialogue so when I feel like I get those interactions to click, it's very satisfying.

Do you find yourself playing other RPG Maker games to see what you can do with the engine, or do you prefer to do your own thing? *Atlas: I do play other RPG Maker games from time to time but just as a hobby, I've seen some impressive things done with the engine but a lot of the time I'm not too interested in the spectacle or fancy features.

Which character in your game do you relate to the most and why? (Alternatively: Who is your favorite character and why?) *Atlas: Hesperos is definitely my favorite character. She's a blast to write for, she acts like a sailor-mouthed idiot and constantly does REALLY stupid things, but at the same time she's actually very observant and is a lot more soft-hearted than she'd have you believe.

Looking back now, is there anything that regret/wish you had done differently? *Atlas: I don't think I could've done anything differently realistically, but I do wish I'd gotten it together sooner so I didn't have to finish the game last minute!

Do you plan to explore the game’s universe and characters further in subsequent projects, or leave it as-is? *Atlas: Yeah!!! Magical Disaster X is just a teeny slice of a giant five layer cake, I have so many things planned for it when I start on the full version of the game!

With your current project, what do you look most forward to upon/after release? *Atlas: There's nothing more I love than to watch let's plays or streams of the games I make and seeing people enjoy them. It's a very fulfilling experience that reassures me that folks out there really do enjoy what I put out.

Is there something you’re afraid of concerning the development or the release of your game? *Atlas: I do want to go commercial and that aspect is honestly pretty daunting. I can easily imagine commission costs ramping up fast so I'm not gonna lie that has me sweating a little as a poor person. . .

Do you have any advice for upcoming devs? *Atlas: This is going to be pretty unusual advice since most people will tell you to start with small projects, but here's what I have to say: Get to know the engine for sure, BUT, when you start working on a game for real, make sure you LOVE the concept or world. Something that you know for sure you'll want to come back to even if you have to sideline it for a while. See, I had this problem in the earlier phases of developing games, and that was to jump into projects where I thought "hey this is a cool idea! I'd like to do this!" But then it happened again, and I pushed the previous project behind me figuring I can work on two at once. And then it happened again, and again, and I was just shelving projects and ideas left and right. The one time I actually committed to one of these ideas, it sucked hard because I initially wanted it to be a smaller project but I started concepting a ton of cool stuff for it and expanded the universe and it got the point where I realized, I have all this sweet content but the core of the game was one I wasn't like super passionate about. It collapsed under the weight of its own feature creep and I gave up on it entirely - I had no intention of putting that much time and effort into a game I know I wasn't going to really love. That's why I've been curating my ideas WAY more carefully lately and been all the better for it. Maybe this won't apply to everyone, but for those that it does. . . you already know who you are ;j

Question from last month's featured dev @abigailfortune: Is there a certain theme or a topic you would like to explore in a game one day? *Atlas: Too many to count! Here's a funny story, my college English professor once told me that every story ought to have a message of some kind and I scoffed at the idea like "huh? That's dumb, it can just be something meaningless and fun." Which I still hold to be true, however, as I've gotten more and more serious about making games I've come to realize that I've wanted to include strong underlying messages in each and every one. Social and economic injustices, mental health, love and abuse - these are things I think about all the time and I feel somewhere in my heart that it's important to connect with people and let them know they're not alone, or to bring awareness to things they might not have even considered before. The point where a story, no matter how fantastical, really becomes 'real' is when it speaks to your audience on this deeper level and that's something I want to strive for all the time.

We mods would like to thank Atlas for agreeing to our interview! We believe that featuring the developer and their creative process is just as important as featuring the final product. Hopefully this Q&A segment has been an entertaining and insightful experience for everyone involved!

Remember to check out Magical Disaster X if you haven’t already! See you next month!

- Mods Gold & Platinum

#rpgmaker #rpg maker #indie games #pixel games #magical girls #IGMC #Magical Disaster X #atlasatrium #gotm #gotm 2019 #gotm april #april 2019 #2019

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1-1snailxd-art · 5 years ago

Text

The Shield to your Sword

Masterlist

Overview

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Type: Alternate Universe - Fantasy and Magic

Rating: Mature (just to be safe - there will be injuries and death throughout the general story)

Warnings: injury, blood, physical abuse, emotional abuse, character death, curses, swearing (please message me if more need to be added)

Relationships: Prinxiety (Roman & Virgil)

Fandom Characters: Prince Roman Aelin, Virgil Fidencio, Logan Rae Lason, Deceit (Snake Eyes), Patton *spoiler*, Remus *spoiler*

Summary: Roman is the arrogant, but naïve, Prince of Azmar; a kingdom in the land of Sanderz. Virgil is an orphan the Queen took in as a companion for Roman, and they have been a pair ever since. Though he thinks the world of his closest friend, Roman will discover there is much Virgil has kept from him over the years. The truth is a tough pill to swallow, but Roman is going to have to swallow it if he is to save those he holds dear and protect his people from an invading kingdom.

Ao3 link (just in case mobile is being unfair and messing up my paragraphs)

Tag Support Team

Thank you so much to these individuals who took an interest in my fantasy concept. The sample you read will be in a later chapter. I decided to build Roman and the realm up a bit more prior to presenting that scene, rather than flashing back.

@small-reptile-cake @daflangstlairde @quoth-the-sparrow @it-me-the-phi @soul-of-a-vixen @the-real-wholesome-bitch @phe-purple-parade-ts

________________________________________

Chapter 1 - Prince’s Paradise

The morning light slipped between the parts in Prince Roman’s curtains as the winds changed direction. Sunlight reflected off Roman’s mirror; shining directly onto his eyelids and blinding him as he blinked at the disruption to his rest. With a groan, Roman sat up; running his fingers through his naturally auburn hair and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Peering around his room, he noted that fresh clothes had already been laid out for him, along with a glass of water and an apple.

Smiling to himself, Roman grabbed the apple and moved to open his curtains, revealing his view of his mother’s garden, and the edge of the training area. Taking a seat on the sill, he looked out at what he believed to be paradise. Happy citizens, healthy stock, plenty of crops and a strong, armed force; what more could a Prince ask for?

Setting the apple core on his side table, Roman headed to his bathroom. Stripping down, the prince ran his hands over the heat and water runes, feeling his soul magic run from his fingertips and activate the magic to start his shower. He bathed briefly, simply to warm his muscles and freshen his hair for the day ahead; waving his hand across the runes again, the water flow ceased immediately.

Magic was a common thing in the lands of Sanderz. The natural magic of the land had been harnessed generations prior, as individuals became aware of their own soul magic and used ancient runes to control both magic types. As the years progressed, more and more developed an awareness of magic and the art of using runes evolved. In modern times, runes were in common use by those with and without an awareness of magic.

Some saw their magical abilities as a blessing, but for Roman it was just his birthright. Nothing to be thankful for, just a power to flaunt as he pleased. Walking the castle halls, he summoned his sword from the tattoo on his wrist; swinging and twirling the blade to a beat only he could hear. His white uniform a clear contrast against the brick walls and his black pants. Many had said that his style choice was foolish, but Roman loved the idea of parading in the crimson blood of his enemies after a battle.

His footsteps echoed loudly in the private dining room as he danced his way inside.

“Good morning, Prince Roman.”

Roman spun, sword vanishing from his hand as he faced the young maid standing in the corner.

“Good morning, Iris!” He gave the girl a pleasant smile, but she quickly bowed her head as she did every time Roman spoke.

“Shall I fetch you your breakfast?”

“That would be wonderful. Oh, Iris, have you seen Virgil this morning?”

“Apologies, I have not. I shall send for him at once.” Iris quickly headed for the door.

“Uh, no-no.” Roman’s words fell on deaf ears as Iris left the room with her mission in mind. “I do hope Virgil doesn’t mind me calling for him.”

**********************

Virgil had finally achieved a deep sleep after completing a late night on guard duty. Though he was technically a ward of the Queen, Virgil still took on work so he could share his earnings with those less fortunate than him. Not to mention, he liked the added security of being self-sufficient should he suddenly be cast out of the castle.

He would have happily slept until lessons that afternoon, but Iris roughly shook him awake.

“Virgil… Virgil, please wake up.”

“Wha-what is -oing on?” He grumbled through a yawn; slowly sitting up.

“Prince Roman has requested your presence for breakfast.”

“Oh, has he now. Tell him I’m busy.” With that, Virgil pulled the blankets over his head and laid back down.

“No, Virgil, please.” Iris begged, shaking Virgil with more force now. “I can’t defy the Prince, I can’t.”

The fear in Iris’s voice woke Virgil up as he realised what he had just asked the young maid to do. If word got to the King that they had defied the Prince, they would both be punished. Sitting up, Virgil looked into Iris’s tearful and terrified eyes; apologising as he pulled her into a secure hug.

“I know. I’m sorry, Iris. I’m coming. It’s okay. I’m coming.”

While Iris left to fetch breakfast, Virgil was quick to change into fresh clothes; a loose long-sleeved purple shirt, black vest and pants. Grabbing a leather bag containing his training gear, Virgil left his chambers and headed up to the dining room to meet Roman.

**********************

Virgil’s footsteps were silent in the halls as he approached the dining room to find Roman admiring himself in a mirror. Leaning against the doorframe, Virgil watched as the Prince picked at a loose gold thread on his uniforms decorative design.

“Oh, you wish to challenge me, do you?” Roman asked his reflection, and Virgil stifled a laugh. “I am afraid you are out of luck, for this shall not be a challenge for me!”

Roman summoned his sword, slashing at the mirror as he pretended to fight his ‘foe’; before turning and catching Virgil’s smiling form in the doorway.

Straightening immediately, Roman retracted his sword and tried to hide his embarrassment. “Virgil! Good to see you. Ho-how long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to make the wakeup call worth it, Princey.” The prince’s face reddened as Virgil walked over to the table, unable to remove the grin that lit up his face.

“Um, yes, well…” Roman was at a loss for words and Virgil revelled in every second of it.

“You know, if you use all your magic playing games with yourself, you’ll have nothing left for actual practice later.”

“Me? Run out of magic? Ha! That is impossible.”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “you’ve got skill, Roman, but even you have limits.”

“Says you.”

“Says facts.”

“Facts shm-acts, I know what I’m capable of and I-“

Virgil was thankful that Roman’s rambling was cut short as Iris returned with a plate and bowl in hand.

“Your breakfast, Prince Roman.” Iris placed the loaded plate before Roman, and the bowl of porridge in front of Virgil. “Is there anything else you require?”

“No thank you, Iris. That is all.”

With a quick bow of her head, Iris scurried out of the room. Roman eyed his plate of sausages, bacon, eggs, tomato, mushroom and a fresh bread roll. Once Virgil was sure the room was clear, he reached over and grabbed the bacon from Roman’s plate.

“Hey!” Roman pouted as the other smirked and licked the smoked meat. “That was my breakfast.”

“And this is my payment.” Virgil glanced sideways at his friend, “you did wake me after a night shift on guard duty.”

Mouth full of tomato, Roman paused mid bite as he suddenly remembered Virgil asking not to be woken that morning. Forcing himself to swallow, he gave his friend an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.” Again, Virgil checked the room was clear, before reaching for the honey on the table and sweetening his meal. “Just please, Ro, no wake-up calls tomorrow. I need a little more than 3hours sleep if I’m going to protect your arse.”

“My ‘arse’ does not need protecting, but I will keep that in mind. I don’t want to be seen hanging around with Sir Racoon Eyes.”

“Nice. Very original. Now eat your breakfast.”

The pair continued to eat in silence; Virgil easily cleaning his bowl before Roman. Cautious eyes scanned the room before Virgil snuck any more of Roman’s leftovers. This banter was common between the pair, though he was always careful. Roman may have accepted and appreciated Virgil’s antics, but that didn’t make them appropriate in the eyes of the King or his knights.

With full bellies, the pair leaned back in their chairs and shared a bemused grin, which quickly soured as a question came to Virgil’s mind.

“Has there been any word on your Mother’s condition?”

Roman looked down at his lap, fidgeting with the gold band on his middle finger.

The Queen had been unwell for the past 5 years. Plagued by frequent chest infections from an old war wound. Virgil hadn’t seen her in months, thanks to the King’s increasing distrust towards him. Unless the Queen herself called on him, Virgil was not permitted to access to her chambers. Even when Roman had asked him to accompany them, he was quick to find an excuse to avoid the possibility of crossing paths with the King. Despite everything, Virgil still worried for his surrogate mother and it hurt that he couldn’t see her more often.

“She is as can be expected for the spring.” Roman admitted, “I try not to go to her room too much. All the pollen, you know.”

Virgil nodded, quietly wishing he hadn’t brought it up as he watched the sadness take over Roman’s usually happy features.

“We should probably get out of here,” Virgil finally offered, “I’m sure Iris is just itching to return and clean the room up.”

As if hearing her cue, Iris entered the room.

“I hope everything was to your liking, Prince Roman.” Eyes never rising higher than the table, she quickly collected the dishes.

Sadness dissipating, Roman was back to his usual self. “It was indeed. Bacon was a little light,” he gave Virgil a sideways grin, “but I enjoyed it none the less.”

“Oh. Um. I’m sorry.” Iris quickly left the room faster than a mouse that had run across a heat rune.

As soon as Iris was gone, Virgil punched Roman’s shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” Rubbing his shoulder, Roman looked at Virgil in confusion.

“You can’t say shit like that to her.”

“Chill out, Virge.” he mused, rising from the table, “It just means more bacon tomorrow and I can willingly share it with you.”

Virgil internally fumed as he followed Roman out of the room. The Prince truly was blind to the power he held over those around him and how that one little statement could force a cook to be banished from the castle, or even incarcerated for not ‘meeting the needs of the royal family’. Walking through the halls, Virgil just hoped Roman’s comment wasn’t blown out of proportion or fell onto the wrong ears. Iris may have been timid and useless in Roman’s presence, but she was far from foolish; that’s what Virgil believed to be true anyway. He had to believe. The last thing he wanted was to have a family’s misfortune on his conscience.

**********************

The sun had reached its midpoint, as Virgil lent against a tree with his eyes shut and did his best to tune out Roman’s grunts as he continued to lift weights. The pair had spent a few hours completing solo weapons training and strength development. Normally, Virgil was more than happy to put his endurance to the test, but his early morning call meant he wasn’t in the mood for Roman’s antics.

"Come spar with me, Virgil," Roman called, throwing a weighted stone aside and causing the ground to vibrate slightly.

"I'm not in the mood, Princey." Virgil called back, not even acknowledging Roman with a glance.

"Oh, come on." Whined Roman, sauntering over to cast a shadow over his friend. "You've been laying there forever."

"Don't be so dramatic, and if you hadn't of woken me I wouldn't be so tired right now."

"And I'm being dramatic," Roman playfully kicked Virgil's boot. " Come on. One quick spar."

"Roman, no."

"Come ooooooon."

"Let it go, Princ-"

"I believe your Prince gave you a request."

Virgil's eyes shot open at the sound of the King's commanding voice, and he wished he had a giant camouflage rune so he could disappear into the tree behind him. He knew instantly that he was in trouble, the tone alone was terrifying, but the fire in his eyes communicated his anger tenfold.

"Father!" Roman was beaming, oblivious to the tension in the air. "It is good to see you outside. Would you like to spar with me?"

"No thank you, Roman." The King’s gaze barely shifted from Virgil as he spoke. "But I would be interested to observe a duel between yourself and young Virgil."

"Wonderful, come on Virgil." Roman extended a hand to help the other up and they had enough sense to not refuse this time. "That's more like it. I'll just get my practice runes on."

"No, Roman." The King held up a hand and shook his head. "I could watch a spar any time I chose. I wish to see a duel of the Furnder style."

Virgil's blood chilled in his veins at the mention of the term. He had hoped, as had Roman, that the King only wished to watch them spar with blunted weapons. Instead he wanted a duel. Bloodshed. At least Furnder style meant first to bleed loses, but the activity was not something Virgil wished to partake in with Roman.

"Oh, a, ah, Furnder duel." Roman sounded surprisingly nervous. "I don't want- I mean, I’m sure - um…”

“Grab your straps, Prince Roman.” Virgil kept his voice level and void of emotion. “The King has made a request and we should honour it.”

“Oh, well, okay then.” All concern was gone from his voice after hearing Virgil accept the duel.

Virgil reached into his pack, retrieving leather guards that covered the tops of his hands and wrapped around his forearms. The leather was embossed with runes Virgil had crafted; he could summon various arrow tips and shafts in an instant by allowing his soul magic to activate different runes. He slipped a leather vest on, before setting to tighten his straps and activating metal runes to strengthen his leather protections and clothes.

Roman retrieved a red sash of royal emblems and runes, equipping the seemingly loose fabric across his shoulder and lopping a thick belt around his middle. He too pulled on guards for his forearms and activated protections; the sash stiffening along with his usual uniform.

Fully equipped, the pair strode to the face each other in the centre of the training grounds; the King keeping a trained eye on them as they moved. The wind seemed to die out, allowing an eerie feeling to settle over the usually lively field. Virgil’s stomach twisted as he processed his situation - On one hand, he would have to fight Roman as wholeheartedly as possible, so as to not offend Roman and the King. On the other hand, should he actually cause Roman harm, the King would be sure to punish him greatly. There was no way out of the situation, only careful fighting and a hope that he could avoid both of those evils.

“Virgil Fidencio. Prince Roman Aelin of Azmar. You have agreed to partake in a Furnder duel.” The King’s voice seemed distant to Virgil; though there was no wind to disrupt it from reaching his ear. “You shall honour the laws of Lord Furnder. The duel is over once blood is drawn from either participant; fatal blows are unnecessary but not dishonourable. Your actions are your own. All advances will cease when blood is drawn; are you both in agreeance?”

“Aye, sire.” The young men called in unison, eyes meeting; one fearful but determined, the other excited to demonstrate his skill.

“Arms at the ready!”

Virgil and Roman summoned their weapons simultaneously; the sun instantly reflecting off Roman’s sword and meeting Virgil’s eyes. Bow firmly gripped in his right-hand, Virgil felt the tips of his fingers on his left-hand tingle as he primed his soul magic to craft arrows.

“Have honour!”

Roman widened his stance, keeping his sword low and eyes fixed on his opponent. They had sparred many times with blunt weapons and were just beginning to receive missions outside of the castle walls. The young Prince was ready to prove that he was worthy, not just in age, but in skill.

“Begin!”

Reflexes lightning fast, Virgil summoned an arrow and sent it at Roman.

“Shield up” Virgil mentally commanded.

A red shield appeared as Roman raised his right arm, knocking the arrow aside as he advanced. With a slide of his right index finger, a semi-translucent shield formed in front of Virgil’s bow. The sword met the shield with a jarring force, but Virgil held strong and pushed the sword aside.

“Guard your centre,” Virgil begged as he kicked forward.

His foot hit shield as Roman summoned it again; preparing to swing his sword back. A smile quirked Virgil’s lips as Roman instinctively braced to push him back. Using the added momentum, Virgil pushed off the shield to flip backwards and away from Roman’s sword; pulling an arrow into position the moment he was grounded.

“Be prepared for anything,” Virgil felt his wrist warm as he released one arrow and summoned another with a burning tip; taking backwards steps on the diagonal to keep his distance from Roman.

The arrows struck Roman’s shield, the fire arrow making an explosion on impact that caused his vision to blur. Regardless, Roman exchanged his sword for a throwing knife and charged forward. Even with his sight impeded, Virgil still had to summon his shield to protect himself as Roman hurled the knife towards him. As the prince re-summoned his sword, Virgil thought he saw his out.

Dropping his shield, Virgil pulled another arrow as Roman quickly closed the gap between them.

“Shield up.”

His fingers moved naturally to release the arrow just as Virgil’s keen eyes noted Roman’s relaxed guard arm. In a split-second reaction, he formed and released additional arrows in an attempt to divert or destroy the first.

Roman’s mind was tunnel focused as his sword crossed his body in preparation to swing at Virgil. By the time his eyes focused, two arrows collided in front of his face in a cloud of smoke and he swung blindly into the space before him. The smoke concealed them from the King’s watchful eye, and the boys were trapped in grey darkness.

A feeling of smooth resistance was enough for Roman to recognise that his blade had struck true. Activating a whirlwind rune, he quickly cleared the smoke to find Virgil crouching while aiming a freshly strung arrow at him; blood oozing from a deep gash on his left arm.

Clapping had Roman’s chest exploding with pride.

“What a brilliant display, Roman.”

Roman beamed down at Virgil at the King’s words; retracting his sword and deactivating his runes. Virgil did the same before lowering his head in shame, unable to reciprocate Roman’s euphoria as his eyes caught the fine trail of blood that ran down his right cheek.

“There is no shame in losing, Virgil.” Roman assured, still oblivious to his injury from sheer adrenaline. “It was a fine duel, wasn’t it, Father?”

Any evidence of a smile was immediately removed from the King’s face as Roman turned towards him.

“Your face was scathed.” Virgil felt the King’s presence, despite never raising his head.

Roman reached up with cautious fingers, suddenly aware of the sting as his fingers traced the cut up his cheek and to his ear.

“Huh, you managed to strike me, Virgil,” the sound of Roman’s laugh only had Virgil feeling twice as terrified for his future. “I’m impressed. Though this makes it difficult to determine the true champion. Would it be fair to call us even, Father?”

“Go see the physician, Roman,” was the King’s blunt reply, and Virgil felt the bile rising in the back of his throat as royal boots stepped into his peripheral vision.

“Father, it is just a scratch and Virgil-“

“The physician, Roman. I wish to speak with Virgil in private.”

“But he’s -“

“I’m fine,” Roman looked down to meet Virgil’s deep brown eyes. “Prince Roman. Go see to your health.”

Virgil hated having to speak so formally to his friend, but it was required in the King’s presence. Even as children, Virgil was always expected to treat Roman in a more formal manner, despite the Queen’s kind words that the boys were equals. Watching Roman walk away now, more than anything in the world, Virgil wished the Queen’s words were true. As soon as Roman was out of view, Virgil again lowered his head and kneeled before the unkind King.

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End Note:

Thank you for reading and I really hoped you enjoyed it. Please don’t hesitate to pass on any feedback or questions you have about the story. Thanks again to my lovely Tag Support Team. You are the reason I decided to writing this story.

Side Note: updates will come as I am able. I work full time and have one other WIP. I will try and balance my updates between both...unless there is more interest in one over the other.

💜🐌 Snail

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Chapter 2 — Masterlist

What else have I done:

The Perfect Ring (oneshot - analogical proposal)

You Promised (oneshot - prinxiety angst/injury/near death)

Sides of a Hero (Completed Fic - sides are fusions of impulses and aspects of Thomas. Virgil has a depressing past that he is forced to face thanks to Deceit and Rage. Was canon compliant at the time of completion)

Libraries are for Meetings (ongoing WIP - Human/University au with Royality and developing Analogical. Slow burn and heavily focused on a grieving group of friends that Virgil slowly becomes a part of to better himself.)

Check out my other blog for random fandom reblogs and stuff @snail-giggles

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