#narrator: she was not in fact able to be normal about it

[saint-tibbles]

areeeee you kidding meeee

[benegesseritofficial]

The effects of face paint on Harrowhark's psyche

I've now cosplayed Gideon Nav 3 times, with my wife along as Harrow every time. Naturally, this has included full face paint for both of us each time and I have some thoughts.

Let me start by asserting that everything Muir writes in TLT about the face paint is accurate. Rubbing off your lips first, smearing into gray where the black and white meet, the way sweat makes it ooze but not run. I can't say if Muir (a known Homestuck) ever cosplayed as a troll, but I'm positive she tested out the practicality of the skull face paint or otherwise has first hand experience with extensive use of grease paint. Also, the way she describes normal people flinching when they see you is spot on.

I've noticed while putting on the make up that once most of my skin is covered, any flesh tones sticking out start to become unsettling. Specifically, the red/pink of the inner mouth and around the eyes jump out upsettingly. Every time I've done skull paint I find myself meticulously trying to patch over these edges of skin, despite knowing that it's inside skin that Shouldn't Have Make Up On It. Once my face is monochrome, I don't want to be able to see a scrap of real human under there. Smiling, or otherwise opening your mouth wide enough to see the pink, looks UNSETTLING. My own skin causes the uncanny valley effect. You see where this is going. In NtN we learn Harrowhark disassociates often enough that Crux isn't surprised or concerned to see "Harrow" insisting she's someone else. Obviously this is due to her schizophrenia, and perhaps trauma besides. But it doesn't account for every aspect of why Harrow's "like that." On her most lucid days Harrow ignores her body to the point of sweating blood and passing out. She goes entire days without eating. She thinks of herself as a skeleton unfortunately covered in flesh. She sleeps in her paint.

All of which is heinous, but that last one has stuck with me. From age 13-18 I barely glanced down while I showered and whatever I saw I basically blocked out. I wore underwear and a bra under my pajamas to sleep every night. I was going through the wrong puberty, "my body was in open rebellion" as I liked to say at the time, and the only way to cope was to bind it down and pretend it wasn't happening. By Gideon's narration in HtN one gets the impression most nuns of the Ninth are putting their paint on after breakfast and taking it off when they get home. It's not even expected the average person wears it every time they leave the house. But Harrow regularly only takes her paint off in order to redo it. I suspect a combination of being the most brainwashed person in her own cult, knowing how she was conceived, and the regular disassociation make it very difficult for Harrow to conceptualize that she actually lives in a body. If she faced that fact head on she'd have to ask why it so often feels someone else is using her body. She'd have to cope with owning this body, being a part of this body, that was bought with the blood of 200 children who should have been her peers and friends. Instead she pretends it's an object on loan from them. And she does it with 10 layers of black petticoats and so much paint she never has to see her own skin.

Which brings me to the final thing I've noticed wearing full face paint. It dehumanizes you to yourself and everyone around you. I couldn't read my own expressions in a mirror. Even people who understood and were delighted with my cosplay were visibly nervous talking to me. You don't look like a person. Studies have shown that faces wearing heavy make up are ranked as harder to read and perceived as less empathetic. It's a particularly insidious trap of patriarchy that many women find self esteem in wearing make up, while that very act makes everyone around them treat them more callously. And, worst of all, if you stop wearing it once you're used to it, your naked face is shocking. You look sick due to your colors being less bold and the normal small flaws of your face appear unbearably ugly. With all this in mind, Harrow has trapped herself in a feedback loop of not being able to witness her own face and becoming more and more disgusted with the flesh and person underneath whenever she has to glance at it.

[quicksilversnails]

It's so fun how the Princess and the Dragon acknowledges and plays with game mechanics that are assumed to be non-diegetic, and uses them to add insight to the story/characters.

The title card is a really obvious example, being something that TLQ actually sees and can comment on, and something that the Princess hadn't ever seen. What most would assume is just a framing device for the player is a real element of the world/construct.

I think it emphasizes how the story that the Narrator constructed is only "meant" to be told to TLQ. After all, The Narrator only appears in TLQ's mind, providing elaborate descriptions and attempting to contextualize the events of the game as a heroic task to save the world. Meanwhile the Princess is all alone, with no title cards or exposition, no context for why any of this is happening to her. The story revolves around her, but it doesn't care about her beyond her designated role, as something to be slain and hated. Her perspective is irrelevant to the Narrator's plan, so she doesn't get the fancy presentation or necessary context: she doesn't deserve it.

There's also those long stretches of dialogue where the voices talk to each other in TLQ's mind without progressing the story. They're occasionally acknowledged by the Princess elsewhere (Prisoner, Nightmare) but P&tD makes it very explicit and confirms that time is actively passing during these conversations, with TLQ staring in silence for who knows how long.

(Personally I don't think all of the voice dialogue is necessarily in real time, if only because some Princesses wouldn't have had the patience for it. Like if you had really stood still for that long, the Beast would've definitely eaten you... she's not waiting for you to finish thinking lol)

This one I think is more for humour, but it also draws attention to how much of the inner conversation the Princess is missing in normal chapters, when the voices aren't actively speaking to her through TLQ's body. Where we're having vibrant debates or key information revealed by the Narrator, she just sees a silent, staring figure. Speaking of the Narrator, He's completely absent from the Princess' POV, either because He doesn't want to speak to her or is somehow unable to (He does say in Tower that she's not supposed to be able to interact with Him...) Again, the story was not made to be told to her, so she isn't given His context, and because the player is usually so immersed in TLQ's perspective, they probably wouldn't realize just how much she's missing until they see things from her perspective.

One other example: if you choose to [Say nothing] immediately after you excise yourself, the Princess reacts to it:

I just find this so hilarious tbh, and the fact that she repeats back those exact words implies that she literally senses the text written in brackets. If you do it once you're back in the basement, she says this:

I wonder if it's the same for the Narrator/voices... do they also “feel” your actions while you’re choosing them? Do they hear you say (Lie) before you lie? When Skeptic said "Wink" out loud did he actually choose a dialogue option with [Wink] in brackets?? Ok that last one's a joke but there's lots of potential here

I just think it's cool because the average player wouldn't think twice about any of these things, because they seem like simple stylistic/game design choices. In a game where all player input is through dialogue options, the square brackets are an immediately understandable way to convey action, as opposed to plain text. In a game structured around repeating loops, it makes sense to make those loops distinguishable for players by separating each loop with a title card, and the chapter naming convention works as a nod to the fairytale storybook aesthetics the game draws from.

But by placing you into the Princess's head and acknowledging those design choices as diegetic elements that change depending on your perspective, it forces you to reevaluate your experiences: the things you didn't think were really "part of the game" and the experiences you didn't realize weren't universal. It exposes your hidden privileges, the luxuries and structural supports you have compared to the Princess that you don't even notice because you've never experienced the alternative.

It might make you realize how the way you perceive and conceptualize the world might be very different from how others conceptualize it (Tony's recent ask about the multicoloured glass in HEA could also play into this in a fascinating way, with the mismatch in perception between TLQ and the Narrator's script). It's all just very cool for a game that's based on perception.

It also makes me wonder... what other elements of this game are diegetic that we just haven't paid attention to?

Well, I think that the captions are probably also diegetic. TLQ occasionally refers to the voices by their complete titles despite them not ever referring to each other by those titles, instead opting for descriptors like "jumpy one" or "the worst one" or "rage boy" or "chilly little freak" lol. For a direct comparison, Paranoid exclusively calls Smitten "the lovesick one" or some variant in HEA, but TLQ refers to him by his full name using quotation marks, as if he's quoting something he's read:

The voices don't seem aware that these titles exist, while TLQ does, despite them sharing a mind. Also, when the Princess shares a body/mind with you, she never uses their titles either. In the Spectre/Princess and the Dragon, she calls Hero "the nice one", Cold "the quiet one" or "cold little freak", and the Narrator "the bossy one" or "that murder-happy know-it-all". Spectre describes the voices as shards of broken glass on the floor, so she likely perceives them completely differently to how we/TLQ see them.

Even The Narrator isn't aware of His title. If you call Him that in the mirror conversation, He says "'The Narrator'. I suppose that's my job, isn't it?", reacting to the title as if it's His first time hearing about it. There's also this question from the fourth Shifty encounter:

It seems like the titles are presented specifically for The Long Quiet/decider, and that they somehow reflect how TLQ perceives the voices/Narrator, since TLQ takes credit for "calling him" that. If the captions were specifically shown to TLQ in the same way that the title cards are, it'd explain how he has this information without it ever being verbally told to him, and why the Princess doesn't know their titles even when she's sharing your body.

But besides the captions, I think it could be fun to interpret the game as if most, if not all of its game mechanics exist in-universe. The choice menu, the music, the cursors, the save/load icons, saving/loading in general, the title screen, the Clown Princess living in the walls (game files), you name it. Let’s peel away these game mechanics cell by cell! Let's see what meaning we can find together, let's see what we're made of!

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, in every time ࿐‧₊ interlude - i have questions

chapter summary: Logan tries to figure out how to move on from your death after Alcatraz Island in the years following.

word count: 2.8k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: this is kinda different from what i normally do, but i had this idea in my head. if anyone has ever read 'a series of unfortunate events' or watched the show on netflix (i highly recommend both) then you know lemony snicket (the author and narrator) always puts a quote about beatrice, the love of his life who he lost, at the start of every book. so instead, i put some quotes at the start of every time cut (there are only three very short drabbles, but i wanted to try my hand at it so this is not a required read for the series)

warnings/tags: sadness, angst, depression?, heavy drinking, mentioned blood loss

series masterlist - chapter 9 → chapter 11

you left too soon,

i wasn’t done loving you yet.

---

During the night Logan hoped for two different things: that he would go to sleep peacefully, without dreams of you, or that he would dream of you.

The mansion was unnervingly quiet. The students had adjusted to the absence of Charles, Jean, and Scott in ways only kids could—by moving forward. The classrooms still buzzed during the day, Ororo still led them with grace and determination, and Hank busied himself in his lab, pushing forward as if the cracks in the foundation weren’t there.

But Logan? Logan couldn’t move forward.

Not without you.

It had been months since Alcatraz, and every day was heavier than the last. He’d carried you back himself, refusing help even though every muscle in his body screamed against it. He’d stayed with you until the funeral, until the dirt covered the final trace of you. But even that couldn’t make him leave.

Now, the mansion felt like a ghost of what it had been when you were alive. The hallways didn’t echo with the same warmth, and he swore that every room still smelled faintly like you, even though he knew it wasn’t possible. Your classroom remained untouched, the pen you always twirled still resting on the desk where you’d left it, just like every other time you’d been too nervous to notice.

He couldn’t bring himself to enter it again.

Logan sat on the edge of the bed in the room you’d shared that last week before the battle. His elbows rested on his knees, a cigar burning out between his fingers. He stared at the floor, your name an unspoken ache in his throat.

Sleep wouldn’t come. It never did. Not since that night.

His head fell into his hands as he let out a shaky breath. Memories of your smile, your laugh, the way you’d said I love you before kissing him—those memories haunted him, louder and sharper than anything else. He carried you in a way he hadn’t been able to carry anyone else.

He felt your absence in every breath he took.

The bed creaked as Logan stood. He glanced at the clock on the nightstand, its glow casting shadows across the room. Three in the morning. The kind of hour where the world felt still but not peaceful. His bag was already packed in the corner, and his boots were waiting by the door. He’d known tonight was the night—he couldn’t stay here any longer.

Logan lit the cigar between his lips, taking a slow drag before picking up the bag. The weight of it was nothing compared to the ache in his chest. He made his way down the hall, pausing briefly outside your classroom. His hand hovered over the doorframe before he clenched it into a fist and moved on. He couldn’t open the door. Not now, not ever.

By the time he reached the garage, Ororo was there, leaning against one of the cars with her arms crossed. She’d always been perceptive, too much for her own good.

“You’re really leaving,” she said softly, not as a question but as a fact. Her tone wasn’t judgmental—just tired.

Logan nodded, tossing his bag into the truck he’d commandeered months ago. “Ain’t much left for me here.”

Ororo stepped forward, her brows furrowed as she studied him. “That’s not true, and you know it. The students need you, Logan. We need you.”

“They’ll manage without me.” He pulled open the driver’s side door, but Ororo reached out, her hand on his arm.

“Logan—”

He stopped, exhaling a breath full of frustration and something deeper. “Don’t try to stop me, ‘Ro. You know I can’t do this anymore.”

Her grip loosened, her hand falling to her side. She hesitated, searching his face for something—anything—that might change his mind. “She wouldn’t want you to leave.”

Logan froze, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the edge of the door. “Don’t,” he warned, his voice low and dangerous.

Ororo didn’t flinch. “She loved you, Logan. She believed in you. If she were here—”

“But she’s not here,” Logan snapped, his voice breaking as he turned to face her fully. “She’s not here, and she’s not comin’ back. None of them are. So don’t stand there and tell me what she would’ve wanted. You don’t know.”

The air around Ororo shifted, the weight of his words settling heavily between them. She nodded once, stepping back. “You’re right,” she said quietly. “I don’t know. But I do know that running won’t make it hurt any less.”

Logan didn’t respond. He climbed into the truck, slamming the door shut as he started the engine. He didn’t look back as he pulled out of the garage, the headlights cutting through the darkness like a blade.

The mansion disappeared in the rearview mirror, and with it, the life he’d tried—and failed—to build.

As the miles stretched on and the road unfolded before him, Logan felt the ring pressing against his chest like a curse. He pulled it out, letting it rest in his palm as his foot eased off the gas.

He’d carried it for more than a century, waiting for the right time. But the right time had come and gone six times over, and this time, there was no coming back.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He slipped the ring back into his pocket, where it would stay—like the memory of you, a ghost that would haunt him for as long as he lived.

He kept driving, the road endless and empty, each mile taking him further from the mansion but never from you.

---

“You can’t love someone unless you love

yourself first.” Bullshit.

I have never loved myself.

But you

Oh God, I loved you so much I forgot what

hating myself felt like.

---

Getting shitfaced at a bar was Logan’s routine nowadays. It didn’t matter where—dingy dives or polished joints—it all tasted the same after the fourth whiskey. The bartender at tonight’s hole-in-the-wall had finally kicked him out, muttering something about closing time. Logan didn’t fight him. He barely muttered a thanks before stumbling out into the cold night air.

The streets were quiet, empty except for the occasional car passing by. His boots scuffed against the pavement as he made his way back to the motel where he’d been crashing. It wasn’t much—a single bed, a bathroom, and a TV that barely worked—but it was enough for someone like him.

The whiskey hadn’t done its job. The buzz wasn’t strong enough to drown out the memories, and the quiet only made it worse.

Logan shoved open the door to his room, letting it slam shut behind him. He tossed his jacket onto the chair in the corner and sank onto the edge of the bed. His hands came up to his face, rough fingers dragging down as if he could wipe away the exhaustion. But it wasn’t just his body that was tired; it was everything.

He pulled off his boots, letting them drop to the floor with a heavy thud. The cheap mattress creaked as he fell back onto it, staring at the ceiling with glassy eyes. His hand found the chain around his neck, pulling the ring free from beneath his shirt. It dangled between his fingers, the light from the streetlamp outside casting faint glints against its surface.

The ache in his chest was a familiar one—sharp and relentless. He closed his eyes, gripping the ring tightly in his fist as if that could bring you back.

It never did.

---

It wasn’t the first time he’d dreamed of you.

In the dream, you were there—alive, warm, and smiling at him like you always had. You sat cross-legged on the bed, your glasses slipping down your nose as you scribbled something into a notebook.

“Logan,” you said, your voice soft but teasing. “You’re staring again.”

“Can’t help it, darlin’,” he drawled, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed. “You’re a hell of a lot prettier than the walls.”

You laughed, the sound light and full of life. It tugged at something deep in his chest, the same way it always did. You pushed your glasses up the same way you always did, while you kept your head down, hiding that smile of yours.

Logan moved closer, the mattress dipping under his weight as he sat beside you. You looked up at him, your eyes catching his in a way that made his heart stumble. He reached out, brushing a thumb against your cheek, and you leaned into his touch without hesitation.

“Don’t leave,” you said, so softly it almost wasn’t a sound. “Promise me you’ll stay this time.”

Logan’s jaw tightened at the sound of your voice. It was so achingly familiar, so damn real that he almost believed it was true. Almost.

“I’ll stay,” he said gruffly, the words falling from his lips before he could stop them. His hand stayed on your cheek, the warmth of your skin grounding him in a way that felt cruel and kind all at once. “Ain’t got anywhere else to be, sweetheart.”

You smiled, and for a moment, it was as if the weight in his chest lifted. The lines on his face softened as his thumb traced the curve of your jaw.

“You always say that,” you teased, leaning closer until your forehead rested against his. “And yet you always find a reason to leave.”

Logan closed his eyes, the accusation cutting deep, even if it wasn’t meant to hurt. The truth was, you weren’t wrong. Every life, every version of you, he’d lost—by fate, by chance, or by his own failure.

“Not this time,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “I promise.”

Your hand came up to cover his, delicate fingers wrapping around his much larger ones. “But you have to go,” you said softly, eyes searching his face. “You can’t stay here.”

Logan’s chest tightened, the dream taking on that cruel, vivid sharpness that felt too real to be anything but torture. His brow furrowed, and he shook his head. “No,” he growled, voice low and almost desperate. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweetheart. Not again.”

You smiled at him, but there was sadness in it. The kind of sadness that cut deep, quiet and understanding. “You have to,” you whispered, your thumb brushing over his knuckles like you were comforting him. “You don’t belong here.”

Logan’s jaw clenched, the weight of your words sinking in, but he didn’t loosen his grip on you. “This ain’t fair,” he said, his voice rough, teetering on the edge of anger and pain. “You were s’posed to stay this time. We had plans, remember? You, me…” His voice cracked, and he looked away, the words catching in his throat.

Your free hand came up to cup his face, gently coaxing him to look back at you. “Logan,” you said, your tone tender but firm, “you’ve always been the strongest man I know. But even you can’t fight this.”

“I can try,” he said gruffly, his hand tightening around yours. “I’d fight the whole damn world if it meant I got to keep you.”

Your smile softened, and for a moment, it felt like time itself had paused. “I know,” you said. “And you always have. But you don’t need to fight anymore. Not for me.”

Logan’s brows drew together, his eyes glassy as he searched your face for something, anything that might make this easier. “I don’t know how to let go,” he admitted, the words barely audible. “I don’t even know who I am without you.”

“You’re Logan,” you said simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. “You’re the man who’s lived a thousand lives and still keeps going, no matter what.”

He let out a hollow laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah? Well, livin’ don’t feel much like livin’ without you.”

Your hand slid down from his face, resting over his heart. “I’ll always be here,” you said softly, your eyes holding his like they could anchor him. “Every heartbeat, every breath—you’ll carry me with you.”

Logan closed his eyes, his shoulders sagging as he exhaled a shaky breath. He wanted to believe you, to hold onto your words like they could fill the gaping hole you’d left behind. But when he opened his eyes again, the bed was empty, and the only sound was the faint hum of the motel’s heater.

His fist was still clenched around the ring, the metal warm from his grip. Logan sat up, dragging a hand down his face as the reality of the dream settled over him like a fresh wound. He looked down at the ring, the faint light catching on its surface, and let out a bitter chuckle.

“Even in my dreams, you’re tellin’ me to move on,” he muttered, his voice low and hoarse.

But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Not yet.

---

But life has plans for all people. Even if those plans separate us

from the ones we love. No matter where my life takes me or

yours takes you, I will love you whether there are a thousand

miles between us or none at all.

---

Logan stood outside the hotel room, rain steadily pouring down on him as Mariko slept inside.

“That’s a lot of blood.”

He looked over to the side and saw you—or rather a vision, hallucination?—of you. “I thought you were done being the hero.” You continued.

“These guys were… trying to kill her.”

You gave him a small smile before walking closer to him, kissing his stubbled jaw and turning his head to you with a hand on his cheek. “You’ve always been a hero.”

Logan’s throat tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I’m no hero, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely. “Not without you.”

Your hand lingered on his cheek, your gaze steady and unyielding. “You’re always going to be a hero Logan.” You tilted your head and even in this vision, your glasses had specks of rain on them from the downpour, “especially mine.”

The words hit Logan harder than any physical blow ever could. His jaw tightened as he stared at you—or the echo of you, the cruel trick his mind had conjured. Your presence was so real he could almost feel the warmth of your palm against his weathered skin, the way your touch had always managed to ground him no matter how lost he felt.

“Darlin’...” The word slipped from his lips in a voice rough with disbelief and pain. “This... this ain’t real.”

Your soft smile didn’t falter. “Maybe not,” you admitted, your tone impossibly gentle. “But does that really matter?”

He took a shaky breath, his eyes searching yours for answers he already knew he wouldn’t find. “It matters,” he rasped. “’Cause I can’t... I can’t keep seein’ you like this. I can’t keep hearin’ your voice in my head, feelin’ like—like you’re still here when you ain’t.”

You moved closer, your hand sliding from his cheek to rest over his heart. Logan flinched but didn’t pull away. He couldn’t—not from you, even if you weren’t really here.

“I’ll always be here,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against the soaked fabric of his shirt. “You know that. You carry me with you, Logan. Every lifetime, every moment—you never let me go.”

A bitter laugh escaped him, hollow and heavy. “Maybe that’s the problem, sweetheart. Maybe I’m the one who can’t let go.”

“You’re not supposed to,” you said simply. “Not yet.”

Logan’s gaze hardened, the fire of his grief and frustration sparking through his voice. “Not yet? Then when, huh? When the hell am I supposed to stop seein’ your face every time I close my eyes? When am I supposed to stop hearin’ your voice every time I take a breath?”

You tilted your head again, your expression unreadable but calm in a way that only made his turmoil worse. “When you’re ready,” you said quietly. “And not a moment before.”

The rain poured harder, running in rivulets down Logan’s face as he stared at you, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He wanted to be angry, to scream at you, to demand why you’d left him—again, always. But he couldn’t. He never could. Not with you.

Instead, he whispered, “I miss you.”

Your hand pressed more firmly against his chest, where his heart thundered beneath your touch. “I know,” you said, your voice like a balm over his frayed edges. “I miss you, too.”

The blood loss finally took effect, and without his healing he stumbled to the ground, passing out.

if you read this, thank you! next chapter is back to our regularly scheduled programming, 'days of future past'! and oh boy, will it be everything you wished for ;)

also, i'm flying home for xmas break today so i'm super excited and happy that i'll have more time to write and read my long tbr. anyways, i'm off to catch a(nother) flight! xoxo

[tillsfan]

new official arts analysis..

i really like how. doll-like sua looks here. i love when vivimeng depict sua as a husk of a person, dehumanizing her because she really had nothing without mizi.

the sua on the right seems very content, leaning into her reflection. she honestly seems kind of proud in my opinion. this is her satisfied with her decisionto sacrifice herself without mizi’s knowledge, content with the happy lives they lived while they could live it. sua was accepting of her death, happy it would be her and not mizi, because she KNOWS she wouldn’t survive on her own. mizi is strong, sua isn’t. we also know sua is very selfish. maybe she looks so content because she knows mizi will continue to think of her? maybe she’s aware of the impact this would have on mizi, how she will never leave mizi’s mind, making it easier to accept her own sacrifice.

the sua on the left is creepy, soulless. i always imagined this version of sua is mizi’s current perception of her.. sua was still an angel in her eyes, she was literally mizi’s god, but mizi didn’t know as much about sua as she thought. she knew nothing at all. the sua she knows now is not the sua she knew previously, the innocent and happy sua she grew up with. she’s a shell of a person now, haunting mizi’s mind. did sua plan this? how did she know this would happen? why didn’t she tell me? why did she lie to me? i’m sure questions like these are circling in mizi’s mind, never to be answered.

ivan looks. deranged. to start. he’s way more focused on the camera than sua, looking down on us. also unlike sua, he’s sweating and crying(?), and is leaning away from the reflection. this immediately pushes the fact that ivan didn’t exactly plan his death like sua did hers. we’ll never truly know what was going through his mind, but i always felt like his lash out at till was an impulsive decision. he knew one of them was going to die, and when he saw till no longer fighting, he realized the reality that he wouldn’t be able to keep on going without till. so he ran, letting out all his emotions in his final moments. he is also a very selfish character, so i feel he’s ecstatic that in the end, he got to leave a lasting impression on till like he wanted. either that, or he’s grateful he finally got to let out all his emotions towards till, making till suffer yet saving him in his final moments.

another detail i noticed is that the ivan’s hands aren’t touching each other like sua’s, his hands have their backs faced to each other. the ivan on the left isn’t ivan’s true nature, it’s the facade he’s known to have showed those around him. he’s detached from this persona he put up, therefore not touching his palms. he’s also looking at us like he KNOWS something we don’t. unreliable narrator ivan strikes again.

okay so till’s is SIGNIFICANTLY different than both ivan and sua’s. he’s the only one facing away from us, the blood on him not visible. the side of his injury is also facing away from us. there’s also a lack of branding on him. i feel this is the most obvious piece we’ve gotten signifying that he’s going to be alive. they’re deliberately hiding any way for us to see the aftermath of his injury.. vivimeng has been treating till’s supposed death So much more differently than they’ve treated the other characters deaths. in his final comic, his post ‘death’ official art, and now this (which i will elaborate more on in a different post. i have an 10+ paragraph long analysis on why i believe till is alive LOL..)

his reflection is also not a normal mirror—it’s a true mirror. the hand placement isn’t mirrored like ivan and sua’s, it’s as if he’s directly holding out to the till in front of him. i believe he has a true mirror because he has always been true to himself. he never put up a facade or lied like ivan and sua did, as he never needed to. he was always his most authentic self, not only living for another person like the other true, but also for himself. we don’t see the mirror till’s expression, but we can see his mouth. he’s frowning, showing a lack of acceptance to his fate. i genuinely think he’s going to be okay. he’s a fighter, even in this photo, he’s still fighting. he refuses to accept that it’s his time to go, not sparing us a mere glance of assertion regarding his death.

note that i’m not saying these are the true meanings! just how i interpreted it. <3

[cherryblooom]

Enchanted — OP81 [introduction]

Summary: After being forced of moving mid-year of school, the least thing you expected was getting a crush in a cute boy who loves karting and actually being corresponded. I mean, you have always wanted to have a romance like the books but forgot all the struggles and challenges that comes with it.

Pairing: Teen!Oscar Piastri x Teen!Reader

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Warnings: period shaming, bullying, reader has some questionable thoughts and self-contempt, animal abuse (no details). mostly narration.

Author note: This is my very first work ever, please be nice and reblog if you liked it!

Everything felt very surreal. You can feel your eyes stinging, fighting not to let out those tears that you had been holding in since before you left the house.

There wasn't much traffic, but you weren't sure if that was a good thing or if you just wanted to delay the impossible. You knew it was necessary but couldn't help feeling guilty for your parents for having to move across the country and leave everything they knew behind. Your father had lived his entire life working and building his company from scratch and thanks to endless nights, you and your mother were just beginning to see the fruits of his hard work, of course, before all the shitshow happened. Your parents had done everything they could to make you understand that their anger was not your fault and not directed towards you, it was actually the opposite, but you couldn't help feeling resentful and like a freaking failure.

You played with the apps on your phone in a failed attempt to distract yourself but couldn't help to grimace when you opened the Instagram app and saw your now private profile. You followed some famous people but you only had 10 followers as all the others were deleted by your mother.

''I'm sorry for making you move and leave everything behind. Dad, the company...''

''Honey, no. Stop it!'' your father replied after lowering the volume of the radio while your mother, who was in the passenger seat next to him, turned around with a look of concern. ''We already talked about it, you're not guilty of what happened and we're not angry at you. We should have protected you and been there for you but we realized it too late but I promise you that we are going to leave all this in the past and although you don't want to believe it now, we love you and we always will.'' She was right, you couldn't believe her. Your mind was going down a somewhat dark path and you were sure that if your mother had even the slightest idea of what was going on in your head, she wouldn't hesitate to send you to a psychologist. ''Plus, you will love the new house! It has a beautiful patio and a pool where you can practice in case you want to join the swimming team at your new school.’’ She told you slightly excited, trying to pass on the feeling to you but you didn't have the heart to tell her that it wouldn't be possible, so you just nodded and looked out the window again.

You could feel your mother's gaze on you, perhaps waiting for an answer or even a smile but you didn't have the energy to do it or even fake it.

You had become what they call a ''bookworm''. Despite having access to technology and internet, you had developed a great love and appreciation for physical books and the smell of a new book excited you more than what is perhaps ''normal'' but thanks to the fact that apparently not many people shared the sentiment, the library was empty most of the time (at least the one located in the junior wing of the school, you didn't know about the one in the senior wing, but you have heard that it has like three floors and a private cafeteria).

You were reading one of your favorite books again and even though you practically knew the story by heart, you couldn’t stop laughing and feeling your heart flutter at the thought of how it would feel to be loved like that. Would you ever be able to find someone who would love and admire you just for being you? Just for existing? You had a love/hate thing for romance books. You read about how the characters were loved, cared for, how they could let go and turn their brains off to just…be. Exist. You knew you had just turned 14 and that according to your parents and the logical part of your brain, you have a whole life waiting ahead of you, but you can’t imagine that someone could love you like that. You couldn’t even make friends, how the hell are you going out to dates? No idea, but you didn’t want to think about it and fall down that rabbit hole. You turned the page, excited as you were only about 10 pages away from your favorite part but decided to leave it for later to read in the comfort of your room.

The alarm distracted you from your book and with it, you knew that you only had 10 minutes left of lunch (you weren't a big fan of the cafeteria, lots of people and noise so the library was always a good choice) and that you had to go to the biology lab, not forgetting to stop by your locker to look for the essay that you have to hand in today. When you reached for your backpack, you felt a strange tug in your stomach that you didn't know how to describe, you had never felt anything like it before, so you were quite confused, but you ignored it since you knew you didn't have much time left.

Then you saw him. A boy your age was entering the library but you turned around facing away from him, so he was unable see you. You barely saw him for a few seconds but boy, was he cute. Is this what you always read about? You didn't even know the boy's name, but you noticed his short brown hair, his rosy cheeks and how tall he was. Was this your first crush? It’s dumb! You watched him for a few seconds but apparently that was enough to make you fantasize what it would be like to talk to him or what his name would be, if he was nice or a jerk like the rest of the boys in your class (which would be a bummer). All of the other girls in your class have no problem talking to boys or making friends in general but here you are, covering your face with your hair so the cute boy you saw for two seconds doesn’t notice your presence.

You walked out of the library with your coat hanging on your backpack, it wasn’t cold so you didn’t need it at the moment. You had 5 minutes before Biology started so you headed to your locker and you always walked close to the walls, that way you drew as little attention as possible. Apparently, old habits die hard. Up until now, you had done a pretty good job of being a regular girl and not drawing attention to yourself. The girls in your class dangerously reminded you of the girl responsible for you having to move and change schools mid-year and the boys in your class are jerks, is the best way you can describe them. There was no way you wanted to run into any of them. You wake up, go to school, go home, do your homework and then go to bed. Same routine, every day. You watched on social media as your other classmates went out, had fun, went to the mall, bought makeup and clothes, posted photos and videos in groups, laughing, and as much as you wished you didn't care, you felt envious. Why can't you be like that? Why do you have to be the little weirdo who always goes unnoticed, and no one pays attention to?

You had to take one more turn to get to your locker when you heard giggles behind you. You turned your head slightly and saw two boys who were a grade above pointing at you and laughing; your chest started to hurt and you felt like there wasn't enough air to breathe. Anxiety, you felt anxious. You ran to your locker as the laughter intensified behind you and you just knew that you were the reason for it. Suddenly, you felt that same tug at the bottom of your belly.

''Oh no, no, no, please don't...'' you whispered almost on the verge of tears. You felt something hit your head and then fall to the ground. You wanted to die when you looked down and saw a sanitary pad that someone had thrown at your head which made the laughter louder.

''Oh no, the weirdo is bleeding out! I hope she has another skirt because yikes.''

''Hey! You're staining the floor, how fucking disgusting!''

''If I was the janitor, I'd make her clean it up. How disgusting.''

''Hey, honestly, how did you not notice? Didn't you feel your vagina wet or smelly or shit? Fuck, I have to get my book, but my locker is next to hers, imagine if it smells. That will be so gross!''

''In case you prefer to put things inside rather than a pad, weirdo'' Someone had thrown two tampons at your head, one of which had gotten tangled in your curls. At this point, you were already sobbing, not being able to hold back the tears and humiliated, all the while you were still turning your back on everyone with the locker open, with fear and shame eating you away.

Suddenly, you felt someone's presence which brought you out of the little dazed status.

''Honey, come on, I'm going to take you to the infirmary. Come on, you're okay, let's go.'' You could tell by the softness of the voice that it was a woman. She was the school's duty nurse. Apparently, someone was kind enough to call her while the others were scoffing. You let yourself be guide towards the infirmary and could distantly hear the nurse demanding them to stop laughing. At this point, you didn't care anymore, you just wanted to get to your bed and cry, that's all.

5 Months Later

You were in the south courtyard of the school, the farthest of all, with your third sketchbook finishing what would be your second attempt at drawing your mother. It would soon be her birthday and although you had already bought her a gift at the mall, you wanted to give her something that only you could do. Besides, she was the number 1 fan of your drawings and she bragged to her friends that her daughter was a great artist. Sometimes it embarrassed you but at the same time you felt good knowing that you had someone on your side, supporting you. With each stroke, you felt your confidence increase and, you had even opened an Instagram’s account for your drawings, and you felt good knowing that there were people who recognized your talent and encouraged you to continue learning, even if they were strangers. Maybe you were not totally alone.

You felt stuck. You couldn’t draw the hands, and with each attempt you only felt like you were screwing up more. Before you got more frustrated, you decided to take a break and continue in the comfort of your bed after eating. When you were about to start packing your things, your notebook fell open right on the last page that always made you blush. The boy from the library, who you now know also plays on the school soccer team (not that you’re stalking him at all) was looking back at you in an unfinished drawing in your sketchbook. You had only seen him passing by the halls and you couldn’t admit out loud that you unconsciously tried to match your schedule with his, like when he had his sports class. Oscar, that was his name, and you knew it thanks to the fact that he was apparently the star in the games and his name was always shouted by the people in the audience. Apart from seeing him in sports class, you didn't get the chance to see him much since he was in a grade above yours.

It was Tuesday, 3:40 PM according to the alarm you had set. School had ended 10 minutes ago but the alarm reminded you that in 5 minutes the soccer practice, Oscar's soccer practice, would start. Pathetic? Yes, but it wasn't a crime to want to appreciate your crush from afar, right?

Before you could leave the courtyard, you saw out of the corner of your eye a cardboard box which was dirty and you swore that it moved for a second. It looked like trash, but it couldn't be since the school has a zero-tolerance policy regarding that and you can literally end up suspended for throwing trash outside the trash bin. They were really strict about that. You approached it with some caution and jumped a little in shock when you saw that it did move and that it wasn't part of your imagination. Your heart stopped when you heard a small sound...a kitten? You approached more confidently, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw that the box didn't have any holes in it and was in fact sealed with many pieces of tape.

In a hurry, you threw your backpack on the floor and took out your scissors to cut the tape. You could feel the adrenaline and fear of what you might find inside if it turned out to be exactly what you thought but still, you carefully but firmly cut the tape. If they turned out to be kittens, you were going to start crying. You took a deep breath and opened it, feeling your eyes water. There were 4 kittens that looked like they couldn't be more than a few weeks old. One was completely white; another was almost completely black but with a few white spots while the last two were a combination of orange and white. One of the orange kittens, unlike its siblings, wasn't meowing and was just lying there barely breathing. You felt your heart break. They looked cold and hungry, so tiny and defenseless. You have always been a cat person, kittens being your weak point. Quickly, you grabbed your backpack, hooking it on your shoulders so you could carry the box without dropping it and you couldn’t run but did your best to walk fast. When you got to the school gate, you called your mom to come pick you up telling her about the box you found and that you wanted to take them to the vet. Your mom knew there was no way you were going to leave them abandoned after finding them so after 10 minutes you were already on your way to the vet with four beautiful kittens with you.

---------

Your Instagram account dedicated to your drawings has gained 1,000 followers, which was a great achievement for you, but you decided to take that opportunity to post that you had 3 kittens up for adoption. It destroyed you knowing that you couldn't keep the 4 kittens, but your parents had already let you keep Cotton (cliche because the kitten was completely white, you knew it, but you didn't care).

You were appalled while looking at your notifications. Oscar. Yes, that Oscar was messaging you and after checking a little more you realized that he had been following you for a while and you hadn't even noticed. You could feel your cheeks turning red, but you took a breath and remembered that he was only doing that because he wanted to adopt a kitten, you were of zero importance.

my_cherryblossom

Liked by Oscar_piastri and 57 others

A few weeks ago I found a box sealed with tape that contained 4 kittens inside. It's obvious that the intention of whoever put them there was for them not to survive but I found them just in time. Sadly, I can only keep one, which is why I am giving up the other 3 for adoption! They are so cute and playful.

If you're interested, write me.

P.S. These kittens are my life so if you give me weird vibes, I won't give you one lol

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Radio Check: As mentioned above, this is just the first part of what I hope will be a series telling Oscar x Reade's story. If you'd like to be tagged, let me know! Please Reblog and like!

[anthurak]

So I have a hunch that we’re going to find out that Ruby actually has some… special connection to the Relics.

See, let’s consider for a moment the fact that as of the end of Volume 8, all three of Jinn’s answers have been questioned. Which, according to everything we know, means that it should be a hundred years before more questions can be asked, and by extension, before we could see Jinn again.

Now the thing is, I think we call all agree that it is EXTREMELY unlikely that this is the last we’re meant to see of a character like Jinn in RWBY. If for nothing else than it feels like we’re meant to get at least one more vision from her in a big ‘Once More, With Clarity’ reveal.

Like you know the theory that the main reason for the Unreliable-Narrator nature of Jinn’s vision in Volume 6 was because Ruby’s question was ��What is Ozpin hiding from us?’, meaning that Jinn’s answer was framed ENTIRELY around what Oz knew, or BELIEVED, ie; all the info/propaganda he was told/fed by the God of Light about what happened while he was dead.

So I think it feels like a pretty natural step that we could wind up seeing someone, likely Ruby again, doing a redux of that moment where she asks Jinn a far more direct question, say; “What happened to Old Humanity?”, to get the TRUTH of what really happened.

Which all means that our heroines are somehow going to get MORE answers out of Jinn. And since a hundred-year timeskip seems… unlikely, to say the least, that leaves us with really just two options:

Time-manipulation shenanigans to ‘speed up’ the normal hundred-year recharge, which we don’t have any kind of precedent for at the moment.

Or, it turns out that there are ways of BYPASSING Jinn’s normal three-question limit.

Which brings us to Ruby, who just so happens to have a mysterious inborn power apparently originating from the very being who CREATED Jinn and the other relic spirits.

Basically, I’ve got a hunch that Ruby’s Silver Eyes, possibly as a result of developing/realizing more of their powers, turn out to give her what is essentially ‘administrator access’ to the Relics, allowing her to bypass their normal restrictions.

Like getting more answers from Jinn.

And the funny thing is, we’ve actually ALREADY seen Ruby get both relic spirits we’ve met thus far to, shall we say, skirt the rules a bit.

Ruby got what was essentially a freebie out of Jinn to get herself more time to use her Silver Eyes against the Leviathan: “And while you do not seek knowledge, just this once I was give it freely.” Also note that Jinn’s warning was merely that she would not be summoned ‘without a question’ again. What if it turns out that Ruby is actually capable of asking Jinn more questions? It’s also worth noting that this instance feels distinct from what we saw later when Hazel and Emerald summoned Jinn seemingly for free: Unlike Ruby, Hazel was ‘seeking knowledge’ when he summoned Jinn, and the fact that the so-called ‘password’ worked gave him all the answers he needed, which in turn satisfies Jinn’s mandate to answer questions. Which again feels rather distinct from the outright FREEBIE that Jinn gives Ruby.

And then of course there’s the whole bit where Ruby, Weiss, Blake and Yang got Ambrosius to SUPER-skirt his own rules to make Penny a new body. Which we’re still a bit hazy on HOW they got that to work. Again, given that it was Ruby who summoned Ambrosius, what if it turns out that she was able to get him to BYPASS his normal restrictions?

Another neat little detail to all this is the fact that we are actually two-for-two on Ruby being the FIRST person shown on-screen using each of the relics. She’s the first person we see using the Lamp to summon Jinn, and again the first person we see using the Staff to summon Ambrosius. So I can’t help but think we’re likely to see this pattern continue with the Sword and the Crown.

I realize some of these on their own might feel like a bit of a stretch, but taken together I think we can start seeing a pattern:

Right now, Ruby is two-for-two on both being the first person shown on screen using a relic AND getting what seems to be special treatment from both relic spirits AND just so happens to have a power that apparently originates from the very being who CREATED the relics in the first place.

I can’t help but feel like this is all going somewhere…

[ceruleanvulpine]

the big theorypost. spoilers for both volumes of misericorde

maybe this goes without saying, maybe not: i think tatiana is A Catherine. firstly, because of the law of conservation of mystery women*. but also she describes herself as a dilettante, and is clearly a matched set with he/him eustace (2stace). they're actually labeled as eustace2 and her2 in the script. eustace and catherine, of course, were unexpectedly close and worked together in the library. which is relevant because...

tatiana and 2stace are on some reality warping storyteller shit. this is pretty clear from their conversation, i think. the most obvious example of it in action is that tatiana describes the IRA-assassination-plot thriller to alex, who then finds herself inside it. alex's narration talks about going along with jim because it "feels right", which is plausibly not mind control, except tatiana also becomes an old friend and/or boss of everyone else she meets.

are tatiana and 2stace the *same people* as catherine and eustace, or versions of them? at first i thought alex was A Flora and jim was A [The Farmer] but that doesn't seem as one-to-one. in 1983 they're both immediately off-putting, whereas in 1483 eustace is capable of acting normal-ish, but maybe it was just 500 years of existing outside the narrative??

evidence for 1483 eustace and catherine having reality-altering powers and/or being aware of the narrative: the shelves. eustace's references to things she can't explain. catherine having visions of music/poetry/social movements/things they Need To Do. the presence or absence of goats. catherine's chronicles are mentioned but not there; meanwhile eustace chronicles darcy's visions, which include Books and Fire Goat, and won't let anyone see them.

There Are Two Swords. 2stace and tatiana are philosophically opposed. eustace (1483) talks about preferring not to interfere with people, 2stace (1983) is a stickler for accuracy, mad about liberties taken with katherine's (in nunleft) and jim's (in prosopography) stories. meanwhile tatiana loves spoilers, mocks 2stace for not being able to enjoy his own fantasies, and "loathe[s] the tyranny of continuity."

so i guess my reach-iest theory is that eustace and catherine, in 1483, are both to some extent able to alter the story / the reality they are in, and approach it differently. eustace is not interfering, whereas catherine is flitting around trying to bring out the hidden potential of the nuns and (checks notes) trying to kill someone and change the course of history? i don't know enough about the war of the roses for this.

what catherine was doing "got her killed," but eustace also refers to james as a "solution to a problem i let get out of hand". eustace could have been involved (metafictionally??) without actually doing the deed.

in fact one of the swords killed catherine and the other is wielded by the demon.

so.. maybe... catherine is killed, but still present, possibly involved in the ghost sightings that *aren't* eustace (and it would be thematically appropriate for her demon to be a magic terror while eustace's is created by dressing up in armor) and the magic circles. either she or eustace is the devil james saw (who spoke with a woman's voice). eustace is trying to keep the story on track and struggling with hedwig, but hedwig isn't her real enemy. (has hedwig stepped into a role somehow by picking up catherine's job? or is she just totally mundane and lost. poor thing.)

but also this sounds crazy so WHO KNOWS.

P.S. it's so goddamn funny that tatiana asks alex about 15th century metallurgy. girl are you trying to catch your stickler friend in an inaccuracy? cinemasins ding?

*umineko has never followed the law of conservation of mystery women, ever, except in the ways that it does

[madelynhimegami]

Ringo Ando Guide

As a reminder, you're free to request which characters I do these of! I've started the next one, but after that I don't think I have more on the docket. So please feel free to suggest! And/or ask relevant questions.

Anyway,

Ringo Ando has an insatiable curiosity. Her quest for knowledge is never-ending and she always wants to learn more.

Academically, her greatest strengths and interests are in math and physics, but this does not necessarily limit her to those subjects.

By default, Ringo tries to maintain a chill demeanor.

She speaks pretty normally, but has a tendency to utilize precise diction, even when it's not needed.

And sometimes she'll just say something completely off-the-wall and keep going like it's no big deal.

Ringo has a relatively high surprise threshold, but when she does get surprised she goes 0 to 60 pretty much immediately.

When this happens, her filter gets knocked loose and she speaks without processing her words before they're already out.

The one surefire exception to that high-surprise threshold is ghosts. Just mentioning them upsets her. She's also not crazy about environments that look like they might end up involving ghosts.

Being in the presence of a ghost usially results in either a meltdown or a BSOD.

While Ringo says she dislikes them for being unscientific, that's a cover (because of course it is, the girl uses magic).

The truth is her grandmother terrified her with ghost stories at a young age. One story in particular was about the ghost of a young girl that cheerfully spoke in puns before murdering her victims.

Speaking of her grandmother, the apple she carries around in manzai is from her.

When something manages to catch Ringo's interest, she tends to laser focus on it so she can hypothesize and/or experiment with it.

A sufficiently interesting thing will make Ringo excited.

When excited, she'll start singing an improvised song based on her situation. These songs often include spelling out a keyword (with English letters).

She's also prone to laughter when excited. This laughter can range from "eager giggling" to "mad cackling."

The more excited she gets, the more likely she ends up getting carried away by whatever she's doing.

Like forgetting her surroundings, or taking others for granted.

Things that tend to excite her are * Mysteries, puzzles, problems, and the solving thereof * Experimenting * Experiencing scifi and fantasy tropes firsthand * Sonic the Hedgehog and Space Channel 5 (probably other Sega franchises too) * Magical girl tropes * Adventures * Discovering and experiencing things that broaden her horizons

If it's not clear by now, Ringo Ando is a huge nerd.

Her boundless enthusiasm for learning means she tends to have a stronger memory than others, where spacetime shenanigans are concerned.

Her memory isn't perfect, though. Case in point, Ringo is absolutely terrible at remembering names. So she usually refer to people by descriptive nicknames for the most part. The exceptions are her closest friends. And Satan.

In fact, she always addresses him as "Lord Satan," whereas most of the cast just sticks with "Satan." My guess is because she gets a thrill out of being able to unironically call somebody "Lord Satan."

Your regular reminder that Ringo does not dislike Ecolo and considers him a close friend, and she did so before Ecolo ever did. In her own words, Ringo says that Ecolo isn't a bad kid.

Being the daughter of greengrocers, Ringo is very health-conscious when it comes to food.

She also knows how to cook fairly well… but her experimental tendencies combined with health focus means that she'll end up making something weird (but technically healthy!) anyway.

Ringo will, apropos of nothing, narrate out loud, like she's addressing an audience that isn't there. This includes expository introductions of characters as a greeting ("If it isn't my childhood friend and lifelong neighbor, Maguro Sasaki!")

Sometimes she does just refer to people by their full name. Might be because of the narration, could just be something she does.

Ringo's vision, at 20/4, is literally superhuman and on par with birds of prey.

Experiments she's performed in her physics club include sending chocolate through spacetime (successful), making a philosopher's stone with fruits and vegetables as ingredients (unknown success/failure), and figuring out what Ecolo is made of ("heck if I know").

But other than all of that, Ringo is a perfectly ordinary teenager.

[vikwrites]

Money, Money, Money - Tony Stark

CHAPTER 1 Summary ➣ Starting off as simple, transactional love during the height of Tony’s alcoholism, devolves into something real. Pairing ➣ Tony Stark x Reader Word Count ➣ 1.2k words Warnings ➣ Slow Burn, Power Imbalance, Enemies to Lovers, Large age gap, Mildly Pretentious Narrator. Author's Notes ➣  The first, full-fledged Tony Stark series, so excited for this! I've always wanted to write a Materialistic!Reader so here it is! Happy readings <3

On the 86th floor of Stark Tower, atop a mini-bar, sat a delicate glass of Vodka Martini, 3 fluid-ounce Yamazaki, 1 fluid-ounce dry vermouth, with 3 small olives minutely pierced onto a thin gold-plated skewer. 

The thin stem of the crystal glass was passed to your gauzy, manicured fingers, in exchange for a crisp stack of ten dollar bills surrendered to the bartender, you didn’t bother to count. 

The plump skewer of olives swirled freely in your nearly full martini; minute drops threatened to spill over the edge of its fine rim. Luckily, you had caught the droplets before they had been discarded onto the carpeted floor.

Figures adorned in hues of gold and silver flitted about the lavish parlor, each mirrored the twinkling lights of the Manhattan skyline outside in their respective shimmering gowns, each one more expensive than the last. 

The atmosphere was lively, yet the main attraction has yet to arrive. You had heard mentions of the infamous Stark around; his name carried a certain mystique, spoken under hushed whispers amongst the attendees. You had never really met him face-to-face, considering he was the CEO of the company, but your position at Stark Industries held up a pretty good reputation, earning you enough, and granting you an invite to the party.

“Do you think he’s seeing anyone?” You picked up on the conversation between a few women sitting next to you on the barstools. The woman in question, doused in the overwhelming scent of Chanel No. 5, was dressed in a form-fitting Valentino dress. Her voice carried through the air with a thick New-Yorkean accent, a bleak resemblance to her flashy, ostentatious appearance. 

“Quit it, stop trying to get into Stark’s pants. You never will.” The blonde next to you responded, patting the other on the shoulder playfully. You caught a glimpse of her manicured nails, adorned with a glossy velvet finish in a similar fashion to your own. However, unlike yours—which were neatly trimmed, the cuticles of her nails were a bit messy. A detail that wouldn't normally matter, but for some reason stood out to you in that moment.

Is she wearing a Cartier bracelet? Your jaw clenched at the sight of her bracelet, sparkling with diamonds and catching the light in a way that made your own bracelet pale in comparison, it was obviously more expensive than yours. The fact alone pissed you off. 

The room was filled with a swarm of pretentious individuals, each one flaunting their wealth and superiority. It was suffocating, being surrounded by so many egotistical assholes with their holier-than-thou attitudes. They may have money, but it didn't make them any less shallow or arrogant. You had this sixth-sense of being able to tell how much of an asshole specifically by what adorned their money-laced wrists—whether or not they wore a Patek Phillipe or a Jaeger was enough insight into their entire persona. 

“I’ve got a better chance than you at least, Stark would love me!” The first woman's voice snapped like a taut wire, dripping with disdain. Her eyes narrowed and glinted with malice as she shot dirty looks at the others, her loathing almost palpable.

Holier-than-thou attitude, as you had said.

You thought their behavior immature, not wanting to pay attention anymore to such infantile arguments. Fighting over some uber-rich billionaire who could give less of a shit who you are after you had warmed his bed for a single night? 

Pfft, fuck no, you were just here for the cocktails.

You brought the crystal glass to your lips, and took your first sip. The alcohol burnt as it cascaded down your throat, leaving your mouth with a spicy aftertaste, you could never really get used to a Martini. 

A part of you was contemplating asking for more, but the sensible side knew that ending up slobbering drunk at a party and waking up at the ungodly hour of 2pm with missing jewelry and a killer hangover was not exactly your idea of a good time.

The smooth sip of your drink is abruptly halted by the sharp sound of glass shattering, followed by the shrill voices of the ladies engaged in a vicious argument. Their heated words and swinging arms in-turn send glasses crashing to the ground, littering the once-pristine carpet with sparkling shards of broken glass. 

“Did you just call me a bitch?” The blonde's voice rose to a screeching crescendo as she yelled, her face flushed with anger. With a loud thud, she slammed her purse onto the table.

“Yeah, I did—bitch!” Another responded, her voice a bit more high pitched than the other, yet still carrying the same sanctimonious attitude, standing up and facing her with a smug smirk on their face. 

“Now, ladies. Must we really be resorting to calling each other names?” A voice echoed from atop the stairwell. The women’s dispute had been abruptly quelled, the whole room seemed silenced, and all eyes seemed to be glued onto the figure.

There stood Tony Stark, dressed in a perfectly-styled, deep-burgundy suit, no doubt Tom Ford, the barchetta pocket gave it away. His hair was styled in his signature quiff, slicked back to a T. And of course, he topped off the ensemble with a pair of red sunglasses, which you’d always found amusing since he'd wear them indoors. 

“Welcome, everybody. I would introduce myself, but it seems that you know who I am.” Each step he takes down the glass staircase, each time his Louboutin boots hit the glass stairs, resulted in a loud, echoed clap, which resonated across the room. “I’d personally like to thank all of you for attending. As you know, it happens to be my anniversaire today, so I thought to myself, why not throw a party?”

"What's with all the staring, is my suit on backwards?" Tony joked, his eyes scanning the room as he flashed his signature smirk. You knew, however, he thrived on attention, as if it were fuel for his larger-than-life persona. Flamboyant was practically his middle name; Tony Flamboyant Stark does have a nice ring to it, you chuckled.

"Jarvis," Tony’s voice carried a hint of excitement as he spoke to his AI, "let's crank up the music and get this party started." The monotone response did as so. 

After Tony made his grandeur entrance, you retreated to your lone seat at the bar, grateful for the temporary escape from the chaos. The previously bickering women had vanished, leaving a few neighboring barstools conveniently open for your solitude. You took a deep breath and savored the cool air conditioning and the soft murmur of conversation floating around you.

But just when you thought you had some peace and quiet, you heard the shuffling of a chair being pulled out next to you. Expecting one of the argumentative ladies to return, you turned to find Tony  Stark himself settling into the seat beside you, nonchalantly pulling out his wallet and fishing out a few bills.

"So, could I buy you a drink?" 

⎊ back to masterlist

[sushispider1212]

PvP Civilization and the Hero’s Journey

Note: This does, in fact, contain spoilers for pvpciv so tread with caution.

First off, this is an examination in regards to the concept of a Hero’s Journey. It will be mostly outlining how I feel the series’s narrative fits in with the Hero’s Journey and maybe a couple of predictions about where the series is gonna go from here. (Yes, Parkour Civilization is a more clear-cut hero’s journey. But I’m not talking about that right now.)

So to begin: What is a Hero’s Journey?

A hero’s journey is the idea that a whole lot of myths and stories that revolve around a central protagonist follows a certain template as to how that story works. It’s a series of plot events that can be easily traced through these stories.

These are not always in the same order, and not all the steps are covered. I will be going through the Campbell phases (Joseph Campbell in his 1949 book The Hero with a Thousand Faces), but they’ll be in the order I think best fit pvpciv.

And all good journeys start with the Call to Adventure.

Our protagonist starts in their normal life before something happens in order to get our protagonist off on their adventure.

For our purposes, it’s Evbo’s normal wooden sword life. We can assume he’d only been alive there (and maybe beyond there?) for only a few days, but as stated in the opening narration, that’s just life for him.

His call to adventure? Winning his first match and Tabi showing up.

Winning the first match is important, because it is what gives him hope that he could make it out of the wooden sword phase, but also makes him start to question his normalcy because the guy forfeited.

And Tabi, being the one who travels to the next levels with Evbo with the explicit intent to get him all the way to diamond sword level, is actually a sort of mentor character in the grand scheme of things. She even taught him how to crit, which enabled him to get better at pvp, which got him to the next level, the place unknown to our protagonist.

This leads in to our next step: Supernatural Aid.

This is where our hero gets a magical guardian to help them or give them a boon of some kind. This doesn’t have to be literal, of course, but whatever boon has to help later in the quest.

And this boon? Evbo’s resurrection.

I am of the belief that symbolically, the Diamond Swords are the magic guardians (especially with their training arc that we’ll get to later.) And since Evbo’s resurrection power was gifted by them, it counts as magical aid especially since being able to revive in this world is highly valuable.

And next? The Crossing of the First Threshold.

This is where our hero crosses into a world unknown, traveling beyond to a place where the rule are unknown to them.

Aka Evbo crossing to the Stone Sword level, and subsequently the Iron Sword level.

But here’s where things get real: The Belly of the Whale.

This is where our protagonist has their major failure. From being beaten up badly by the villain, or failing their quest, they hit rock bottom. Normally this phase comes in the middle of the story, but sometimes it’s really early on!

From this failure, they leave behind all the known rules that they may be holding on to, and fully embrace the transformation of the self that ensues.

Evbo encounters this in the murder-reincarnation loop he gets caught in during the Golden Sword training montage. Simply put, before this he was still operating by the known rules of pvpciv, attack people to get sword strength to live. He was also still relatively the same, being a little weird guy with a shopping addiction and an unhealthy dependence on Tabi since she’s the only person who was nice to him. Fun.

But here? It’s rock bottom for him. A no win scenario in which he only gets a small chance of escape every so often to try to win at gold sword level only to die and end up there again. Suffice to say, it’s at this point that Evbo starts to go through his character arc and mature.

Leading into the next part: The Road of Trials.

This is the training arc! The beginning of the transformation! It’s usually a set of tests that the protagonist must complete, aided by their supernatural boon from earlier! They usually fail at least one, but not always.

Evbo’s gold sword training arc is a clear cut Road of Trials. He does the tests, gets better at pvp, and becomes a better fighter and a slightly better person. And he fails, many, many times. This is only possible through his previously acquired supernatural boon, AND the trials are facilitated by the Diamond Swords, Y’know, the magical guardians. Anyway.

Next up: Abyss.

Our hero confronts the being with ultimate power in their life and has to make it out. All of the change and training they’ve went through is to get to this point.

In this case, I believe it is Evbo’s confrontation with Tabi at the end of the season finale.

Tabi, his mentor, the one who’s stuck with him this entire time and taught Evbo how to crit. The one who betrayed Evbo and is also in possession of the most powerful sword, which she stole after beating up the Diamond Swords that Evbo thought were the strongest.

A final confrontation, to see if she still cares…

And he survives into the Apotheosis.

This is the realization stage. The greater understanding that leads to the final stage of the journey.

This is Evbo after the confrontation with Tabi. Him understanding that he needs to leave in order to fix everything, that his resurrection power was given to him by sheer luck. And also the fact that pretty much everyone else is after his head.

And this is where the story ends for now. Right after the revelation and transformation.

But! But! This leads into my final section! Predictions!

Pvpciv doesn’t end in a complete hero’s journey. The reason for this is pretty obvious, since it’s setting up season 2. But where can it go from here?

Remember how I said that the phases can appear out of order? Well, I think the pvpciv season 2 will actually restart the hero’s journey!

The journey is all about the known world vs the unknown world and how our hero changes and transforms over the course of it. Well, at the point where the story is, Evbo certainly has changed, but he also learned and now the unknown world is the known world.

But! That’s only toward the Sword Civilization! The rest of PvP Civilization is the unknown now!

So here’s my idea. We’re gonna go all the way back to the First Threshold and the Belly of the Whale. There’s gonna be more trials and a greater and more powerful supernatural guardian to provide aid (PvP God?).

And! There’s more phases that I skipped over! Here’s the two that I think are going to come up!

Meeting with the Goddess: The hero gains items to help them in the future from a powerful figure. In this case, I think these items will likely be either more PvP weapons, or the Netherite Sword. Likely granted by the new supernatural entity.

Woman as the Temptress: An often female figure that tries to trick the hero from straying from their path. Pretty obvious, but I believe that Tabi will fulfill this role, especially since she’s the most powerful figure in the picture right now, and still feels a friendship with Evbo. I think she’ll try to sway Evbo to her side using that connection, and maybe she’ll be swayed to join Evbo’s side instead? Maybe, we’ll see!

Conclusion.

PvP Civilization is a very interesting version of the hero’s journey, and I hope you have found this as interesting as I do! This came to me about an hour after watching the finale and I like dissecting media into parts.

I may have missed a few things, my memory isn’t infallible, so if there’s something else you’ve noticed, please feel free to say so!

[thefandomenchantress]

So, as usual I’ll give the disclaimer that I may be looking…way too far into things. But that’s basically my job at this point, at least when it comes to all things Ace Markey.

But one detail I think about constantly that I don’t see brought up at all, (probably because I’m the only one insane obsessed intrigued enough with Ace’s character to pay this much attention to it), is this.

Now, on surface level this is completely normal, right? Rose being unaware of her surroundings (but is still smarter than most would assume), and Ace insulting her, just like he does everyone else. But here’s the interesting part.

Ace is the only character to ever acknowledge that Rose’s sleeping habits are most likely a form of escapism.

Now, I will admit that to fact-check that Ace was the only one to acknowledge it, I did not go back and rewatch every scene Rose was in just to make sure I was 100% certain. But I did rewatch her introduction in the prologue, as well her and Teruko’s meeting about her secret and her conversation with Teruko outside of Arei’s murder site, where I believed acknowledgment of the angsty side of Rose’s character was most likely to be found. And just as I suspected, nothing. No one else ever connects Rose’s strange sleeping habits with her emotional/mental state, it’s simply brushed off as a strange habit. Even Veronika never psychoanalyses her about it, to my memory.

But now we have Ace, casually mentioning it. But it’s so in-line with his usual insults and chaotic tomfuckery that no one even thinks about it hard enough to acknowledge it. Plus, they’re in a class trial and have more important things to worry about than dialogue from someone they usually dismiss as is.

Also, I know flashbacks are more for the convenience of the audience than anything else, but I do think it’s interesting that the two flashbacks we’ve seen so far are from Eden and Ace.

Now, if this were real life, being able to remember each sentence of a conversation word-for-word would be very impressive. In DRDT, it’s played off as normal, since having inaccurate flashbacks would be very annoying. But I think it’s notable who the flashbacks are coming from. Eden, who we know tries her best to listen and understand others, so it makes sense she would remember what Arei said pretty much exactly as she said it. Ace is more of a surprise, since you’d think someone so dismissive of others wouldn’t remember David and Arei’s exchange so damn accurately.

Even though J’s comment about Ace not being able to stay quiet and listen to someone talk without having a screaming fit is played for laughs, it does kind of ring true. Would Ace really listen to Arei’s accusations about David being a manipulator and keep listening to see what David had to say without jumping to conclusions, bursting into the room, and yelling at him? Apparently, yes, since David seemed so surprised Ace knew his secret, and if Ace had burst into the room David would most certainly be aware that he knew.

Ace internalizing the insults people throw at him, and possibly memorizing them, is actually a pretty big possibility, too.

This line implies Ace remembers the exact words Nico said, despite the fact he doesn’t actually care about their opinion, at least according to Veronika. I know this isn’t great evidence, since Nico said what they did just a few minutes or so ago, but still.

All of this is to say that Ace seems…Surprisingly aware of other people and their actions or behavioral patterns? You’d think, since he has such a strong sense of self-preservation, that he’d be focused on himself most of the time, but he’s not.

Now, maybe him being the only one to point out Rose’s sleeping habits are most likely a form of escapism for her was a coincidence. Maybe him being one of the only two to narrate a flashback was, too. But just the thought of ‘What if it is on purpose?’ excites me.

[mythserene]

Ladies and gentleman of the jury, this is my case.

(*next day* I definitely got a little ahead of myself with that statement, but I was so happy to get through a single paragraph of a mild example without getting lost in all the other falsehoods that it made me giddy. I do feel unstuck though, and that's worth a lot.)

--

This was supposed to just be a copy of my “Delusional Lewisohn” website post but I started talking and accidentally wrote what I've been trying to say for months.

It starts as my contrasting paragraph of “designing Lewisohn”—how he normally does things—so it's a little stiff and compact, but I spread out fast and while it's probably riddled with typos, this is what he does. It's just usually worse and about more nefarious things.

“It could be they didn’t see much of each other in the summer of 1958.”

In “A BEATLE DIDN’T SAY THAT!” one of my examples was Lewisohn very designedly making it seem like Paul wasn’t around for John after Julia’s death using a combination of an altered quote from George Harrison’s mother and the contextual phrasing surrounding it. Many know of Mrs. Harrison reassuring George that she wasn’t going to die, but Lewisohn cunningly alters the rest of her words and his supporting sentences to make Paul seem unaffected and distant after John’s mother’s death, and to paint George and Paul both as relatively unconcerned, when what Louise Harrison specifically says is that she sent George around to John’s to bring him over so that he could play guitar together with Paul and George, and that “they always helped each other.” For Lewisohn to surgically alter the words that he does quote, chop off the rest, and then sew them back up with misleading insinuations to create not only a false—but opposite—impression of the boys’ closeness after John’s loss is unforgivable.

TUNE IN – Lewisohn

Asked  some years later to describe how he’d been able to help John cope with the loss of Julia, Paul could remember nothing of the period at all. It could be they didn’t see much of each other in the summer of 1958. John was working at the airport, and Paul and George went on holiday together—adventurous for boys of 16 and 17. But Louise Harrison would recall how she encouraged George to visit John at Mendips, “so he wouldn’t be alone with his thoughts.” The awful fact that both his mates had lost their mothers terrified George: the penny dropped that his might die any moment too. “He’d watch me carefully all the time. I told him not to be so silly, I wasn’t going to die.”

THE BEATLES – Davies (cited)

Mrs. Harrison, George’s mother, remembers the effect it had on John. They were still practicing a lot at George’s house, the only house where they got endless hospitality and encouragement. (…) “When John’s mother did die, he didn’t seem to go off his head, but he wouldn’t come out. I forced George to go round and see him, to make sure he still went off playing in their group and just didn’t sit and brood. They all went through a lot together, even in those early days, and they always helped each other. George was terrified that I was going to die next. He’d watch me carefully all the time. I told him not to be so silly. I wasn’t going to die.”

Lewisohn doesn’t outright say that Paul wasn’t around when Julia died, but he strongly infers it—deceptively altering and truncating a supposed-Mrs. Harrison quote—turning George's mom talking about how close the three were at that time and how they helped each other, into support for his inference that Paul barely saw John at this time. He then adds an introductory statement that makes it seem as if Paul was nowhere to be found, without actually saying that.

Yes, that's what I said. It is all lawyer-speak narration. Look at his first two sentences.

Asked some years later to describe how he’d been able to help John cope with the loss of Julia, Paul could remember nothing of the period at all. 

It could be they didn’t see much of each other in the summer of 1958.

But we know the secret. We know what Mrs. Harrison actually said. And so does Mark Lewisohn, by the way.

Now, Lewisohn tells us that someone, somewhere, "some years later" asked Paul this "question" that I literally cannot even comfortably end with a question mark:

“Paul, describe how you were able to help John cope with the loss of Julia?”

Really?

I'm not going to lie, I don't believe him, but even if we give Lewisohn the benefit of the doubt— **excuse me i can't stop laughing. one sec**

—even if we give Lewisohn the benefit of the doubt that someone, somewhere, at some unnamed time, asked Paul to describe how he was able to help John cope with the loss of Julia, just what exactly would we expect Paul McCartney's answer to that to be? Honestly, try to imagine the look on Paul's face if he was asked to describe how he helped John to cope after Julia's death.

“Paul could remember nothing of the period at all.”

Did an appellate lawyer write this? No, this is contract law genius. I can find the holes in almost any contract, and Lewisohn's own words around a misused quote are a work of legal art. He never quite says what you think he said.

But on the quotes, themselves, Lewisohn swings for the fences. He is without shame or fear. He has no qualms about putting quotation marks around any old thing he wants to say. One cannot go too many pages without finding something that shocks the conscience.

These are not “mistakes.” They are a very deliberate cutting and pasting together of historical figures' words to make them mean something different—and often opposed to—what the speaker intended. He then surrounds the misquotes with carefully worded insinuations that don't really say what you thought they did.

THE ACTUAL MRS. HARRISON “QUOTE”

Davies is very good at weaving together information-heavy exposition together with the quotes from his interviews, and since he interviewed everyone himself, he can tell us a lot in his own words.

What that does for you and me is that we get the context from the guy who asked the questions and spent time with these people, and that makes it a lot harder to get away with using these quotes out of context. Like, before we even get to the direct quote from George's mom, Davies is telling us what she remembers from the time. And it's a lot. Because that's when the boys practiced at the Harrison's almost every day. And it's awesome because her memories almost always include what the boys were eating at the time. (Seriously.) Like, she'd “given them all beans and toast” a few months before Julia died when she heard John say to Paul, “I don't know how you can sit there and act normal with your mother dead. If anything like that happened to me, I'd go off me head.”

Davies also calls Mrs. Harrison “one of nature's ravers.” 🥹

Everyone seems to agree that during this time the three were always at the Harrisons, and it's certainly the picture we get from Mrs. Harrison.

Davies is telling us all this, and leads into her direct quote by telling us what she “remembers.”

Mrs. Harrison, George’s mother, remembers the effect it had on John. They were still practicing a lot at George’s house, the only house where they got endless hospitality and encouragement.

And I trust Mrs. Harrison's memory because I am a mom, and I remember every trauma of my children's friends because I was the local Mrs. Harrison. We love those kids with all our hearts and they're so connected to our own kids that nothing happens to one without all of them feeling it. And the mom seeing it all. So how do we need Paul's answer to “Describe how you were able to help John cope with the loss of Julia?” when Mrs. Harrison has twenty stories, all with corresponding menus?

And Mrs. Harrison is saying that she sent George to get John out of his house so they could all play guitars together “in their group.” Not, George and John and no one knew where Paul was.

Where's Paul? Who could possibly know? “It could be they didn’t see much of each other”—but could it? It could be that Paul went ice skating in Sweden, EXCEPT HE FUCKING DIDN'T. Why are you lying to me in legalese in a Beatles biography?

“But Louise Harrison would recall how she encouraged George to visit John at Mendips” isn't true, but also isn't sane. If you pause and put as much thought into each sentence as was spent constructing them, you notice how many of them are patently ludicrous. Mrs. Harrison didn't encourage George to “visit” at Mendips because no child “visited” at Mendips. What are you even saying? To keep Paul and John away from each other you're talking nonsense. Visit? At Mendips? I can just picture John, Mimi and George sitting around having tea. But also, Mr. Lewisohn, those are not words that Mrs. Harrison said, and in fact, those words mean something completely different than the words she said.

What she said was she sent George over there “to make sure he still went off playing in their group and just didn’t sit and brood.”

And Nature's Raver Mom would see John not showing up like usual and would send her son out to make sure John knew he was wanted, and give him a little kick if necessary. She would want him in her house so she could feed him and make sure he was okay and to give him the comfort of playing music together with his friends.

They're the Beatles, and they got through it playing music. That's the real story, the true story, and a much better story.

And then she says “they all went through a lot together, even in those days, and they always helped each other.”

By cutting that out, leading into the quote you cut it from by speculating about where Paul was, and opining that maybe they didn't see each other much you are being purposefully deceptive and there simply is no other rational inference. None.

(I have tripled my website post now. I regret nothing.)

Let's take this baby home.

Because Mark Lewisohn completes the picture of John alone and ignored by George and Paul, and he does it by sneaking his own words into the mouth of George Harrison's dead mother.

I just want to make sure you got that. Like, let it sink in.

Mark Lewisohn changes Mrs. Harrison's actual words from “sit and brood” into “alone with his thoughts,” which further emphasizes the absolute absence of Paul and George. But he knows that John was not alone because he replaced Mrs. Harrison's words that said they were together playing music with his own words of John all alone. And then he has the nerve to even suggest that Paul and George are off together on holiday when John needs them most, while conjuring a parallel image of a traumatized John left separate and alone. (Except for his inner world.)

And I'm sorry, but I have to repeat it one more time: Lewisohn does all this by telling us that Louise Harrison said it. And although a lawyer could make a technical case that I am not being lied to here, I am.

Delusional Lewisohn is alive and well on my website. This has been Designing Lewisohn, signing off.

There's a lot, lot more and a lot, lot worse, but it's all of a piece. Not different in kind, just of degree. (But the degrees are significant.)

Tag 😏 @wingsoverlagos

[ybklix]

Salvatore | 01 & 02

♡ hwang hyunjin

⤷ intro

⋆cw: mention of suicide ⋆notes: narrated from fem character’s pov. the character narrates the circumstances that lead her to meet hyunjin, in later parts. updated masterlist here! •⩊•

a/n: i had this in my drafts i just decorated a little to post it (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

chapters one & two

ONE

word count: 986

The world seemed to move the same. But it wasn't, she was missing. The days are long and the nights are a living nightmare. I don't think I'll ever get over something like that. The huge emptiness, the deep sadness and the endless constant guilt that kept repeating in a loop and managed to slowly consume me as I lamented over and over again for not being able to avoid something as terrible as death. Suicide.

A supposed suicide.

But it happened. And there was nothing else to do. The important issue, is that I would never see her again, or hear her, in the presence of her.

I think every second of the day I found out and the heartbreaking memory it was to say goodbye to my sister forever. The desperate, heartbreaking screams of my mother, dressed in traditional clothes on the most horrible day of our lives.

I don't think anyone ever thought something like this would happen. Much less in the way it happened… it was totally bizarre, as if I suddenly didn't know the person I was bound to by blood, forever; until now. Suddenly everything got weird, she stopped calling home, but I tried to go on with my normal, carefree life; as I didn't want to intrude and I assumed she had a busy life now, plus the time difference could be annoying at times.

Even so, what kept me motivated was that soon I would go to see her, it was only two weeks away… I would go to visit her, I would see her apartment and we would walk around the city. But suddenly nothing. Just a great upheaval in my soul.

Even so, in my ignorance, I continued with my activities. I was visiting my friends, graduating from high school and getting ready for what was next in my life, a university life, in the career I had shown interest in for a couple of years; unlike my sister, for me it was in the city near our childhood home, only a little more than 2 hours away in Rome.

It had been a while… yes I was curious about what was going on in her life; but with Bethany you never knew what her next move was. She was like that, spontaneous. Quite the opposite of what I thought I was. At 16 she left home, with the help of my parents convincing them to study out of the country, to a place far away but not foreign to our family.

She loved to talk, to explore, but with my parents she was always serious and distant, almost as if they dulled her glow. So taking advantage of them to alienate herself was the best decision she could have made. She shone on her own, for a period. Until it managed to extinguish itself so suddenly. Without explanation, leaving a huge void in the people who truly appreciated her, in me.

I guess things like this just can't be explained.

I can't even process it, my empty stomach is spinning, the insomnia became real and the tears are hard and burning as they slide down my face.

Despite all the chaos formed; seeing my sister there, lying motionless and lifeless —an action I didn't have the courage to take until the last moment before she was taken away—… I thought and thought about certain things, like how we were somewhat alike, about the fact that when an idea gets stuck in our minds… it's impossible to get out of there. I was more rigid; I wanted answers and kindness was not my forte, as she was. Charming, pretty, brave.

This couldn't stay that way. Not just like that. There had to be an explanation and I wasn't referring to needing it for my loss and despair. I was thinking logically, I guess, I need her. This wasn't just happening for the sake of it.

I hadn't slept in days. I guess I was losing track more and more, if it was Wednesday, if it was the fourth; not since what happened. I guess when this kind of thing happens you really seem to tune out. During the dark nights of that hellish summer I manage to remember moments… of which keep me afloat and think how sad it is that I haven't spoken in days and no one seems to notice. Everyone was immersed in their own world dealing with something like this; just like now.

I remember being 6 years old and she was 11, playing that we were looking for a reward chest, mysteries to solve that after all I took a great liking to… as Bethany explained that if it something happened there would have to be a reason, even if it was pure spontaneity… there was the cause. So why… why leave without even a letter. Should I have been a better sister and noticed the signs of depression? If I had paid attention, so I could have avoided it, none of this would be happening?

Why would the person who since she was a little girl kept firm and mature ideas standing, determined to her philosophy suddenly decide to leave like this. Something strange was going on… or she was just going through a mourning that was hard to accept.

The whole world was going absolutely crazy. Or at least mine. Because that was all I have. All I know, unlike my sister, I wasn't as adventurous, or a born visionary as she was.

I just lived in the present and that was my problem. Bethany always seemed to have a bundle up her sleeve, just something new and fun so she would never get stuck and bored.

But my days in my comfort zone were coming to an end. From now on. I would finish whatever Bethany couldn't and find out the truth because something deep down inside doesn't seem right, my heart tells me so.

And when an idea like that happens… the universe knows I could become someone else.

TWO

word count: 1.7k

It all started a while ago, years ago. 7 years ago to be exact, during the spring. Bethany was enthusiastically showing me, with a big smile on her face and her school uniform on, pictures taken in the park near her high school, with 3 of her friends, Mia, Isabella and Chiara. She had told me how Mia was able to buy a digital camera and then take them pictures, she thought it was so much fun.

I know now, that that evening was more than just one of her types of goodbyes, as she was planning something that day that suddenly changed everything.

We had just left school. She was leaning on my bed holding the pictures she had taken with her friends gently passing them, one on top of the other. I don't remember the day but it was maybe, sometime in April.

Bethany asked me if no one else was home besides me, leaning against the edge of the doorway before making herself comfortable in my room. I replied that our mother had most likely gone out to buy something.

I asked her about the sudden interest, more as an automatic response than out of curiosity, “why?”, “I have to tell them something”.

I didn't make a big deal out of that sentence, I didn't want to intrude plus she quickly changed the subject. At the time I was eleven and Bethany was fifteen, a month shy of her sixteenth birthday.

She told me about her friend’s plans, Chiara's trip to Ibiza, Mia at her grandmother's vineyards and Isabella's summer job helping her mother at her store. When I asked her what she would do a grimace appeared on her face, unsure and doubtful of what could be the right answer; from which I assumed it was because of our parent’s sudden change in not spending the summer in Seoul, as every year, but to wait until the winter vacations, where it would now be with our aunt, for the island. It was usually on both occasions when we would visit South Korea, to be connected to that part of the family we shared with our mother.

I remember suggesting to her to go to the beach, both of us; which she complied with at the end of May, a week before she left home. We had our 3 days at the beach, under the Fregene sun, eating soft ice cream. Only 40 minutes from Rome by bus, and just over an hour by train. I remember everything so well. The sound of people talking, the sound of the sea, Bethany's noisy sandals slapping the sand and my mother's sudden cursing in her first language, sitting in that blue beach chair with her hat. I loved the beach, every aspect of it… My sister seemed to be darker, and tended to like to play hide and seek, being a big part of the crowd, under the city lights, I always thought the town we grew up in was never for her. So she found her place once she got away from us.

After the first day Bethany's friend had joined us, Isabella. At times I watched them primp and preen, in awe; ready to stroll through the noisy city, leaving me wondering what two teenagers were supposed to do when you feel the city belongs to you. Giggling, putting gloss on her lips and high heels, glittery eyeshadow, fixing her hair between the two of them, once again leaving me with ideas in mind, like whether I would ever do those simple little things with my older sister once the age difference is not so stark and when I'm no longer a child. Once I start getting interested in those things more and more; maybe when I'm 15 too. But Bethany wasn't around after I turned eleven. I did get interested in those things and I did it too but with friends. During those nights, I would just stay up late with my parents, watching TV; waiting for Bethany to come back. But that day in April, after dinner, with both parents gathered; after clearing the table and cleaning up, when I was finally supposed to go to my room, I stopped to listen to what Bethany had to say.

The sentence was as simple as: I want to go to study in Seoul. Finish my high school and start college there. And all of a sudden. Silence. I couldn't see them but I could perfectly picture the scene in my head; of which it was approximately like this, with the two of them sitting, slightly leaning on the table, Bethany standing in front of them, with her hands together, a gesture she used to make when announcing something. The bright light of the room reflecting on my sister's forehead and the confused face of my mother, who suddenly started speaking to her in Korean, in confusion, her confused expression permeating my mind even though I didn't see her, what, "what are you talking about", she would suddenly say in her strong korean southern accent.

I can't quite memorize what my exact thoughts were at the time… as I just wanted to hear everything and then generate an opinion. I guess it just took me by surprise too.

She went on to explain that, for some time now she has been in close contact with Joomi, a cousin a year older than Bethany whom she is very close to, and spends all her time wiith her, whenever we go to visit. She said that they talk a lot on the internet and that she somehow managed to convince her to study there and rebuild her life in that faraway place.

She argued with a tone that tried to persuade them, saying that she had all the support of my uncle's family, my mother's brother. That if they allowed her to have that opportunity there would be no reason to let them down and she would finally be fully connected to her roots that our mother instilled in us so much.

Her answer was no. No from my mother. A 'I don't know' from our father.

2 days later, Bethany received the final answer. She would finish the rest of the school year and leave for the summer to try to adjust and go to study at the same school as Joomin, living under that family's roof.

My mother just wanted her to suddenly connect with what she suddenly felt was lost and out of her hands, among her other two older siblings, she had been the only one to marry a foreigner, migrate and raise two of her daughters in a different culture than her own… and suddenly her first born had the idea to take a big step… it was hard for her; especially when her future was strictly planned, to graduate at the top of her class and continue her studies at the university in Rome. It was surprising the sudden change of plans, especially when my mother had everything in the palm of her hands and with how extremely stubborn her character was; but her older brother managed to interfere and persuade her; he promised to take care of her and love her like another daughter.

And I knew all this from Bethany's spontaneous change of mood, her smile was bigger, her eyes sparkled and she had her characteristic grimace of when she manages to win or something goes as planned, in victory. I was told in detail a week after confirming to her that yes, she would be leaving.

Honestly at the time I don't think I said any words; there was nothing clear to say… other than "wow, I really hope everything goes very well". And I meant it with my biggest will and heart.

I guess I stayed in shock for a while until I saw her leaving, boarding that plane; that's when I could finally come to my senses. I saw my mother and then my father, simply letting his first 16 year old daughter leave. It was all confusing, I thought everyone over there was trying to run away from the school system… I guessed Bethany really had a plan.

And she did. She even managed to get into college… but the career of her choice was not at all satisfactory to my parents. It was, to a certain extent, disappointing, causing Bethany great sadness, I could feel it in her eyes that summer when we went to visit her. Suddenly she would contact us less, making excuses that if we were to see her that summer, her stay would be short because she would be very busy… which, what was once an annual visit, became a very irregular tradition, every two years… separating us little by little.

The first three years were strictly adhering to the family rule of our annual visit to my mother's and Bethany's home country, who unlike me, I was born in Italy, like my father. During that period everything seemed fine; my talks with Bethany consisted of being amazed at how much I had grown up, apparently, what I had made of my life in Italy and simple things like that… until the year she entered college, during that summer, the pressure from my parents was very high; Bethany tried to remain calm, but nothing worked out for her. The following year, she announced the news of her career causing discontent. I tried to cheer her up and that somehow created a bond again in us that I thought was lost, since she left I felt she was not the same person I admired so much, suddenly her life was a mystery to me, who her best friends were, her life at school, her daily routine, even everyone knew her by her Korean name, she seemed like someone else.

The change in her was there. For good, while she could. And for bad when the poor thing felt she was the family failure. Despite the estrangement between our parents; Bethany always tried to keep in touch with me, calling constantly, leaving e-mails in my inbox, giving me little things that reminded her of me… the truth is that I found it tender and funny the way she didn't know me, since with her demonstrations of affection she reminded me how much she was stuck in my tastes when she was 10 or 11 years old. But that quickly and without warning turned into 15, 16… the age when she left.

Despite all the ups and downs… I never really knew the way her life was, her own life thousands of miles away from me, still, I tried to be close.

[lurking-latinist]

re: these tags

THAT'S SO COOL AHHHH!! good for you aubreyad community stays winning

[introducing this with a disclaimer in case i'm wrong about everything: i am only halfway through the series rn (just about to finish 10) and also am but a mere undergrad classics major who has yet to even declare said major and I probably don't have the right to be yapping about propertius. nevertheless i shall.]

anyway i have been growing persistently more insane about diana's proximity to a Lot of classical imagery, like how her first appearance in post captain is literally during a fox hunt + all the gender stuff she has going, obviously linking her to mythological diana (and artemis if we're going to conflate the two) but your take has sent me in a whole new direction with that-- because she doesn't actually really embody the artemis archetype all too much overall (an emphasized character trait being that she's notably Not Chaste) EXCEPT in relation to stephen, w/ whom her relationship is much more brotherly than it is sensual i guess?

which would align very well with your idea of diana as elegiac puella-- sort of in a way being mythologized by stephen-- resulting in the reader actually being able to see two different manifestations of her character (one through the eyes of an omniscient prosaic narrator and one through the perspective of stephen as a "poet" figure). and i just think that's neat.

my latin class has also been looking at a few of propertius' love elegies and, at least to me, they read a lot like if stephen 1.) hated himself significantly less and 2.) were less indecisive in writing about his Feelings?? 1.8 (and all of the poems concerning cynthia moving/traveling away and propertius being all moody about it) is very reminiscent of the arc from post captain to the surgeon's mate imo. 1.12 is also Literally Him-- "cynthia prima fuit cynthia finis erit" can be compared to stephen's poetic catastrophizing about how his life is Literally Over and Love Is Dead when he believes to have fallen out of love with diana!?!? i'm going to lose my mind.

sorry for dumping all of this on you unprompted and also sorry for the fact that it probably does not make sense. peace and love

if undergrad classicists don't talk about propertius literally WHO WILL. (genuinely my currently-being-written phd dissertation chapter is based on an idea I had in the class I read propertius in freshman year. never feel like you're not a 'real scholar' or something yet, because you honestly never do become something different, you just keep reading and talking and this is what we do! there's nothing realer than this!)

oh wow that's really well put--we kind of get to see her from an omniscient-narrator perspective and through the eyes of her lover who is Not Being Normal About Her. very nice!

yeah I keep reading bits of propertius and being like "hmm is po'b going to quote this one I wonder." (he doesn't mostly but I keep thinking he should. because I want the aubreyad to be denser and less accessible I guess? :P) there's a lot of catullus woven in too of course - I associate Catullus 72 with the 'falling out of love' arc (my dude that is not what falling out of love looks like).

oh gosh yes 1.8 -- that was one of the things I was trying to describe to Distinguished Classicist, the way she's so -- what's the word I want? not volatile... she disappears. she's constantly Gone. you turn around and oops, she's eloped to Sweden. (honestly though if Cynthia and Propertius could manage to have *fake* revenge affairs that would actually be *great*, for them that would be an improvement.) Gareth Williams (in a chapter called, amazingly, "From Grave to Rave") describes Cynthia as "ever only elusively visible in the narratological mist" and I feel like that's a bit what's going on with Diana. For her there's a genre element as well--she's a woman in the Men Going to Sea books, and even though the Aubreyad gives way more time to women than the average Men Going to Sea book, the fact is the camera frequently simply isn't on her. We see far more of Stephen thinking about her, hearing rumors, etc. than we do of her actually being on the page. Now in elegy nobody seems to be quite fully on the page, we only get "fragments of story" as Genevieve Liveley and Patricia Salzmann-Mitchell say (excellent collection by that name btw, I recommend checking it out if you're at all interested in narrative and lyric/elegy). But Diana manages this while being in a novel, which is impressive to me.

yeah stephen as a character is a lot more... self-reflective? than propertius' speaker. for one thing he's in a novel, I think, so he can actually... have a series of contiguous experiences. he's also a compulsive diarist which is helpful for self-reflection I guess. and more mature, like, as a human being, than propertius' speaker, who apparently does nothing with his life except be in love and write poetry, he doesn't exist outside of as a poetic voice whereas, again, stephen benefits from a third-person narrator and has medicine and spying to do and so on. also he's Catholic.

I love the "Catullus-and-water" line, it's like O'Brian just put in a little wink to those of us who would notice this, like, "yes I am doing this on purpose." All in all I've pretty much defaulted to assuming that O'Brian is doing things on purpose. although he did forget Babbington's first name that one time and retconned it very awkwardly

[winwintea]

an explanation for belladonna.

i'll be posting the "good" ending tomorrow, but i'd like to post this first to clear up some confusion. (also so u dont think im moving on lol.) some parts of this won't make sense until you read tomorrow's chapter, but i hope this can offer some clarity!

as i said before i would explain everything. this explanation combines both elements of the bad and the "good" ending, however the basic storyline of the fic is still the same.

the bad ending is the true ending. my original intent was for renjun to actually be the killer like in the good ending, but i changed after learning how predictable that might be, plus i couldn't come up with a clear motive for renjun to be a murderer. i later changed it to y/n after realizing i could spin the whole story, making it seem like in y/n's eyes that renjun was actually the killer. it makes for an even bigger plot twist, since y/n is as confused as the reader is too.

who is y/n?

as revealed in the "good" ending, y/n is karina's supposed dead twin sister. how karina killed her was never explained by karina, but it involved a lot of toxic chemicals. toxic chemicals that unfortunately scarred and damaged y/n's face. although she was able to fix her looks, she never looked the same. which is why karina never recognized y/n. y/n took advantage of this fact to manipulate karina into thinking she was "y/n".

y/n is not y/n's real name. (lowkey could not come up with a name for karina's twin so it's up to your imagination here.)

y/n came to the theatre with an intent for revenge on her twin sister. she planned to expose her sister for her lies and find the truth in those lies.

how does y/n not know she was the murderer?

y/n was never a reliable narrator. period.

her trauma from the karina-twin accident caused her to develop a split personality disorder. one personality was the newly created "y/n" ready for a new life and ready to become a detective. the other personality, is y/n's old personality hardened to become a protector and have a desire to exact revenge on those who deserve justice. y/n represents the negatives and positives of achieving justice. like her twitter handle, she is "lady truth". the truth is ugly. but do you still search for it and seek it no matter the price? belladonna plays heavily into the ideas of truth and justice.

i invite you to take a look at johnny and y/n's twitter handles. a detective's job is to make an inference. y/n on the other hand wants to find the truth. even kun's bio echoes this idea of truth.

another big clue you could've picked up on was the "anonymous" murder texts. obviously this was a reference to y/n having conversations with herself under the guise of texts. the texts aren't real. they're made up in y/n's head. she believed she was communicating with the murderer when it was really just her talking to herself. ever wonder why y/n never reported the texts or told anyone about it or did any ip tracing? she couldn't. the texts aren't real.

how is y/n connected to every character death?

this will obviously be further elaborated on in the "good" ending, but y/n is connected to every character death except for mark.

minnie - y/n was her drug dealer 🤩🤩

jay - "childhood best friend" she was never jay's childhood best friend. manipulated him into thinking she was one day (karina's twin or y/n had very good social and people skills!) and he was simply just a pawn in her plan to get to the theatre. she needed the invite in order to meet karina under normal circumstances.

mark - he pissed her off when he called her out lol. (rip mark)

kun - his wife (jiung's mom) got an abortion at the same clinic that did y/n's facial reconstruction. hearing her story made y/n want to extract revenge.

karina - y/n's twin sister.