#none of this is hyperbole either

[the-takosader]

Don't Ask Me To Play Wonderwall - a Thing I needed to say.

You know, I get quite a few requests from friends now and again to play Wonderwall, if and when I decide to play guitar "live" over a Discord call or whatever, and I always give the same answer: I refuse to learn it. Not only is it an incredibly overrated song (and Liam could certainly stand to lose a level of ego or two), but it's not even the best song off of Morning Glory.

Call it bias or whatever you want, my preferred answer is Don't Look Back In Anger, because it's by far the most Beatles track they ever wrote (and, considering that 1, the Beatles conquered the world for 8 straight years, and 2, they seemed to actively trying to be a pastiche of the Beatles but Mancunian, which they did pretty damn successfully, it's a "good going on that front, lads" from me).

But back to Wonderwall, it's a good tune, don't get me wrong, but it's a meme in music for a reason, not least that the better part of all amateur guitarists attempt to play it, in an attempt to show off. I honestly don't get it, either. Hundred years of guitar music to choose from, and you choose one of the easiest songs of the '90s. I don't say that as a diss against the song, it's just overdone. You've got a chord tab that's been viewed nearly 15 million times, and it honestly is a meme at this point.

Might as well outlaw it in guitar stores, like Stairway To Heaven and Smoke On The Water. And it requires a capo too, just to make it even worse. Yes, I do mean "requires", you're not getting those first A or F#m7 chords right if you play them first position or barred. Why? Because nearly all the chords require all 4 fingers, and it's bloody ridiculous. Why would you do 6 different chords for a song, and have 4 or 5 of them all require you're fretting with all 4 fingers?

I'd mention the last of my frustrations, but I can't think of how to word it without it seeming like a bit of a Thing. In short, just don't ask me to play Wonderwall - I'll just say no.

[aiura-stan]

yeah if u think of the main cast as a neurodivergent bunch of kids who become friends because they’re drawn to saiki it totally makes sense. He’s a neurodivergent person who simultaneously fakes being normal perfectly and also doesn’t hide it at all

the ~ideal~ neurodivergent. lol. everyone can tell, and also no one cares and he isn’t judged for being weird. People get the strangest sense that there’s more than meets the eye when it comes to saiki. other ND kids get that sensation twofold and find themselves inexplicably drawn to him.

he can and has literally rewritten reality so he appears less weird. and it isn’t always a good thing… but that’s discussion for another day I guess

[cogentranting]

The Hunger Games succeeds (and more so achieves sort of mythic effect) because it approaches dystopia through the timeless-- it (and Ballad) brings these universal ideas to a very personal lens and asks questions like "how do we begin to excuse evil in our lives" or "how do you hold on to goodness in the midst of oppression". And because it is so invested in the transcendent it lends itself to very powerful symbols, which give it that mythic feel.

Orwell's books (Animal Farm and 1984) both succeed through a very different approach to dystopia (Animal Farm isn't really a dystopia in the traditional sense but it has a lot of the elements). Orwell succeeds through real perceptive insight into the inner mechanisms of the subjects of his critiques. Orwell has vision that can cut deep into the way that things like propaganda or 'controlling the narrative' work and then, having dissected them, hold those tactics up for all to see.

And I think a lot of dystopias fall short because they get tangled up in the Idea of their story. The "what if" they've created. Either focused too much on the Issue-- too narrowly to be universal, too broadly to be revealing-- or too disconnected from anything genuine. And because they get stuck at that particular point they don't have much more to offer than "wouldn't this be bad?" And if you get a pretty good writer they can make that feel insightful but really it doesn't have much more to offer than whatever absurd YA book comes to mind first when you hear "bad dystopian novel".

[doing-downtime-hero-shit]

31 years on this earth and I still have no idea how to get the chip and dip ratio right

[inkpot909]

Your Relationship Trope (Bucciarati’s Gang)

↳ Gender Neutral Reader. Takes place after the events of Part 5 in a everyone lives!AU.

A/n: It’s been a while! I had to take some time for personal matters, so sorry for my absence. I wrote something just a tad more breezy to help ease myself back into it; I really missed writing. I hope y’all enjoy!

Warning(s): None.

Giorno Giovanna

-> Love at First Sight

This deeply romantic, cheesy, guy.

Because of how much he prides himself on understanding, and by extension owning, his own thoughts and feelings- he could tell there was something drawing him to you the moment he met you. A gut feeling that he’d really care to know you better; one that he knows better than to ignore.

Good luck trying to hide anything from him yourself, either. He is as good at reading others as he is himself.

Therefore, if you felt immediately drawn to him as well, he’s going to notice. You might not say anything outright or maybe try to bury it deep down… but either way, he can tell.

Not that he minds your affections, of course. Giorno gets into this cheeky habit of dangling the concept of a potential relationship above your head. Just out of reach.

Yes, it’s in part because he wants to tease you. Seeing you grow flustered at his unapologetically forward flirtations… it never gets old.

But Giorno is also a very busy individual.

It’s difficult for him to plan meetups with you, being gone for days on end at times. Even up and leaving at the drop of a hat if the need arises. He takes his position seriously, and has been a rather involved Don since day one.

And Giorno is a sucker for the details, so he won’t make the final push to become official unless it’s the perfect moment.

Luckily for you, he’s a patient guy.

And as mentioned, he can read you like an open book. He knows you’re not looking at other men or women. Keenly aware you’re waiting for him to make some grand gesture.

Some guilt inevitably spawns whenever he gets extra busy, but your happiness at getting to see him again quickly puts those worries to rest for the time being.

All that in due time… after all, if it’s really true love, he is in no desire to rush.

That being said, the people in his inner circle would absolutely like him to rush. Who knows about his feelings for you? Everyone.

That’s not hyperbole, he’s fairly certain everyone around him can tell.

He will never shut up about you. In damn near any situation where it may be appropriate. Not in any situation that it would potentially reach your ears.

Mista himself has commented that he doesn’t know which he would prefer: Giorno before a relationship with you or during. Either way he’s ‘dealing with a lovesick fool.’

Giorno doesn’t care much, already knowing it’s something his closest friends ought to get used to. Confident in himself and what he picks up on.

After all, your smile says what his mind is already thinking.

Bruno Bucciarati

-> Reunited Childhood Friends

Bruno Bucciarati is a man that has stuck with the same haircut and pattern of clothing since he was twelve years old.

Of course he’s still not over you by the time of the inevitable reunion. Like Giorno, he’s definitely a ‘one love’ sort of man.

Getting contacted by you felt like a dream… but it also brought forth initial hesitation.

Due to the specific turn his life took, he had to leave a lot of things behind. Some more regrettable than others… and you were one of his biggest regrets for a long time.

Regardless, his heart won that day- as he agreed to meeting up with you faster than he would care to admit.

The excitement and build up to it after a date was set is a beast in of itself. The prospect of finally seeing you again after all these years fills his chest with a warmth he’s only ever associated with you.

His mind whirls, all his thoughts leading back to the hope that he’ll get to know the person you have matured into.

Your career, hobbies, how your family is doing, the path you’ve been walking down ever since he’d left its course far too long ago… and him praying there’s a distinct lack of a ring on your left hand.

Bruno’s glad to say that his hopes were well-placed. Upon seeing you again, you proved to be just as eager to know how he’s been doing all this time.

Your questions leave him feeling bittersweet; something he knew would happen.

How could he even begin to explain himself? Would he even want to? You deserve more than a short explanation or a lie. But he cannot and will not bring you into gang affairs either. And if he was honest…. where would he even begin?

“I committed murder to protect my father when I was twelve and ended up entangled in gang affairs. Sorry for not giving you a phone call.”

… it needs work, to put it lightly.

He’s not the type to succumb to fear but… it’s difficult not to stress over what you would think of him if he’s completely honest with you. It’s a testament to how deeply special you are to him; hardly ever getting this mentally worked up over anything outside his beloved team.

The push and pull of wanting to be honest with you- yet not wanting to risk putting a target on your back.

Whether it’s due to the years of separation or just the undeserved kindness you offer him, at some point, you admit to only thinking of those old days fondly.

Regardless of being quite startled with his sudden absence in your life, you couldn’t hold it against him. You knew of his parents divorce, and the last thing you had heard, was that Bruno’s father was in the hospital.

At first, he’s just resigns himself into being grateful you had it within yourself to forgive him.

But how can he hope to ignore… how lovely of a person you have grown up to be- inside and out. In the long run, it just doesn’t happen. His feelings truly snowballing for the first time in years.

Suddenly, he feels like a foolish child again. Only now, he must be doing something right because you could cause traffic to stop with the way you start to look at him.

There’s a warm nostalgia to you. Someone who knows him; truly knows him. Outside of his work and the contradictions he over for it for years.

And it gets to a point where Bruno resolves he must tell you how he feels. And by then, he won’t dally.

You’re back in his life again, and he’s sure as hell not leaving. Especially not without expressing his feelings.

Only took him short of nine years.

Leone Abbacchio

-> ‘We’re Just Coworkers’

He doesn’t necessarily meet people outside Passione, not one to go out of his way to seek companionship.

He has the team. He has Bucciarati. There isn’t much he wants, or feels like he can, ask for.

It’s because of this that you both are most likely to meet through the organization.

And there’s no doubt that Abbacchio is… apathetic to your position in the gang at first.

Now, he’s not as harsh on you as he was comparatively to Giorno. You’re not a fifteen year old with a savior complex and a tendency to act with a sort of righteous grandeur.

So, in short, you’re already doing great as far as he’s concerned.

Not that he warms up to you quickly; quite the opposite. Weeks will pass before he starts to slowly accept and involve you in any meaningful capacity. A guy like him just needs time to get used to someone so new to him… lots and lots of time.

Once that need has been met, he figures you’re alright.

Not bad company- in or out of Passione business. Far favorable to other people around him, as far as he’s concerned. He finds that you’re much better to converse with than Mista or Fugo.

It’s in his nature to compare a little bit, so when he starts seeing you from a fairer perspective… that’s when a quiet appreciation forms.

Alas, his heart is not as immovable as he likes believing it to be.

Over time, the two of you start to metaphorically lean on one another.

It starts off professionally enough, relying on one another in the heat of battle. Then, it gets to a more personal level- quieter conversations maintained between the two of you beneath the usual noise of the others interacting just a foot or two away.

Still, you two only work together. It’s professional. Without question. At least, that’s the case if Abbacchio or you are asked about it directly.

But the others are oh-so-quick-to-point-out that him letting you crash on his bed during particularly exhausting nights is not exactly platonic behavior. Nor is just how sucked into conversations the two of you get, or how much time you spend one-on-one.

And Abbacchio is nothing if not the type to do the exact opposite of what everyone says.

He’s going to deny it for months. Hell, years if you let him.

Never mind the fact the two of you already act like a couple. Getting ‘mistaken’ as one when going out, regardless if it’s just the two of you or not. Each time, you’re both insistent that you’re merely work friends.

It would be ten times more frustrating if there wasn’t any truth to it that neither of you are prepared to admit to.

It takes a healthy amount of whack cartoonish logic for things to finally fall into place. Being locked in a small room for twenty minutes, or possibly an accidental kiss to the lips… that sort of thing.

Guido Mista

-> Coffee Shop Regular

Mista likes the simple things in life, no doubt.

There’s many ways that fact manifests. One example is that he often wanders around the city in order to check out local businesses. Diners, secondhand stores, and little coffee shops. He knows the area well, and likes sparking up conversations with the people he comes across.

And a cute worker at one of his favorite coffee shops? Makes his day even better, he’d figure.

He was already a regular at your place of employment long before you were hired. Meaning, when he saw a new face behind the counter, he had to offer a hello with a relaxed smile on his face.

And to his credit, it was incredibly easy to like him.

The type of customer who’s always in a decent mood, not too impatient, and always knowing what he wanted to order long before walking in.

Sprinkle in a pleasant ‘hello’ or a lighthearted joke every now and then, and he starts to notice your face brightening every time he enters the shop.

He won’t argue against the idea it fills him with something far deeper than pride.

Beyond finding you initially attractive, he considers you a good worker. He cannot imagine being a barista is always easy, but he’d care to point out that you make it look easy. You know his order by memory after a while, and conversation with you comes naturally.

And soon, the workplace barrier is finally shattered. Happening so casually it was practically thoughtless.

One day, Mista walked into the store just when you were sent on a break. He greeted you as always, and offered to sit with you while you decompressed with a cup of coffee of your own.

That’s when he’d say that something a bit more concrete formed. More real, past the relationship of worker and patron.

And he grows unapologetically forward by then too.

He’s not the type to hit on you at work, but certainly not above blatantly asking for your number after he felt it may be appropriate to do so.

He finds it to be a casual and natural progression, something that is in his nature to embrace.

Like Giorno, though, he’ll drag out the time before asking you out just in order to tease you. He doesn’t automatically figure out that you might be into him, but he’ll get the hint by the time you two start calling one another regularly.

He’s not easily affected by the others teasing him over you, either. He openly admits that he’s into you, why get embarrassed?

Now, if someone makes a comment about it in front of you, then he’ll get flustered. An emotion expressed through frustration and defensiveness.

Regardless of that, it’s such a relaxed progression that at some point he thinks meeting you may have been fate. There’s a ton of coffee shops all around Naples, yet you chose to work at one of the small handful he regularly likes visiting.

If his life is predetermined, like he believes it is, then he’s grateful fate is on his side.

Pannacotta Fugo

-> Friends to Lovers

This man looks at someone with a view on love like Giorno and scoffs with distain.

The notion of ‘love at first sight’ is one that is only entertained by foolish and idealistic individuals, according to Fugo. Rolling his eyes, a scoff escaping his lips… he thinks that mindset is ridiculous and is unafraid to express it.

Hell, romantic relationships aren’t even on his radar in general.

He doesn’t look down on or think negatively of anyone in one, of course. But it’s hardly ever on his mind. Focused on Passione and the team he is proud to be a part of.

And that doesn’t change one bit upon meeting you.

As usual, such a thing doesn’t cross his mind once. The prospect of a potential new ally and friend is the only one he cares to ponder, even if you start off on the right foot. He’s a little distant, but polite and fair enough to give you a chance.

Good thing he did to, as far as hindsight is concerned.

A funny individual and someone who hardly ever makes him want to flip a table? He’s glad to call you his friend once a foundation of trust is established.

If he thinks about it, he’d have to admit to himself there’s something very earnest and warm about the relationship.

You’re a good conversationalist, he respects your intelligence, and even silence around you is comfortable.

More than that, you’re reliable. Stress doesn’t come quite as easy whenever you’re around. And when it does, you understand him. You know just what to say and how to say it. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to express the same kindness.

He starts thinking of you when you’re not around, especially when he’s alone. Thinking of anything from a fond or humorous memory, or simply the curve of your smile.

Oh… oh no.

Tackling his own growing feelings is a lengthy process. He wasn’t interested in seeking out a partner, but he catches feelings before he even realizes it.

And figuring out your feelings on the matter? Forget it.

He won’t say a thing unless you make a move yourself, too wary to even admit he could realistically do something himself. A fact the others are quite keen on reminding him of.

His insecurity won’t last forever, though.

Being around you is such a joy that it’s hard to get trapped in his own mind in the moment. That smile on your face, and sentences leaving your lips in the familiar tones of your voice…

You are his friend first and foremost; someone he feels he can really talk to and trust.

And that’s why you turn out to be everything he didn’t know he’d ever hope for.

Narancia Ghirga

-> Will They, Won’t They?

Giorno is going to start making Narancia pay for his therapy appointments. Abbacchio once made a sarcastic remark about wanting to start drinking again because of this. Mista has given Narnacia approximately twenty three lectures over the subject. Fugo is pulling his hair out.

And really, who can blame any of them?

Having to watch you and Narancia interact on a regular basis is a frustrating experience- to put it lightly.

That feeling only heightened by the fact that it’s something no one feels as though they can even comment directly on whenever you and Narancia are both around. Simply swallowing any words bubbling to the surface.

All this to say, Narancia falls for you quickly and he falls hard.

At first, there wasn't a single complaint to be had from anyone on the team. On the contrary, the others took the time to hype him up with wide smiles and pats on his back.

Narancia himself is excited to be experiencing something as genuinely sweet and grounded as a crush, and that elation was contagious.

But then a couple weeks pass... then a month... then another month... then another....

If the others were a smidge more invasive, they would've just pushed you two in front of one another yelling 'to just get on with it already' months ago.

Specifically Fugo, who actively lets it get to him in a way that Narancia merely huffs at. Sometimes offering a noncommittal response if he feels it’s necessary.

It doesn't matter how much his former tutor gets on his case, Narancia’s not budging. A light blush present on his face when he insists for the hundredth time that there's no way you could possibly feel the same.

Your own friends go through a very similar situation on the other end of things.

Similarly with someone like Abbacchio, the two of you act like a couple far before anything is set in stone. Unlike him, it's less causal and downright mind-boggling to the people around you.

Your legs lazily draped over his lap, going on drives that last for hours at a time, one barely ever seen without the other, and talking about each other constantly.

The latter became so frequent that Giorno once had to pull Narancia aside and tell him to stop mentioning you at Passione meetings.

Narancia has to bit his lip just to stop himself, but he manages. Much to the Don’s relief- never wanting to have that kind of conversation with a friend again.

Giorno cannot and won't try to control him outside of work, though, so it was merely half the battle.

Not that Narancia particularly minds the others' reactions to it very much.

Months into his affections and he's gotten used to the constant stream of teasing. Besides, he lies to himself figures that maybe they're just jealous. He wouldn’t blame them if that’s the case, finding you as special as any person can be.

Regardless of what anyone says, the sweetness is there.

An amusement to be had over how truly clueless the both of you are, despite interacting with flushed faces and stuttering words. It’s sweet, then annoying to the point where it circles around to being funny.

But you and Narancia retreat into your own little world where all of that melts away. He’s loyal, and since you hold his heart, it would be an understatement to say you’re just important to him.

Who will give in and admit the crush first? It's up in the air.

[fuck-you-showerthoughts]

hello, I apologize on the behalf of my fellow angry people in your inbox.

I'm also a little angry but I'm doing my best to put that aside because I'm trying to understand you. Please understand that I'm not trying to hurt you with this or anything. This comes from a place of genuine intrigue (while also kind of mad).

Why do you feel the need to define yourself using the transfem label? I get that you think of yourself as approaching femininity from a masculine start point. You said earlier that it's a different, new kind of femininity, like two different sodas. How? Why? From what I understand being a woman is not choosing a monolith out of a henge but instead just identifying with a group. Why are you getting out of the group only to return to a different part of the same group?

I know men and other bigender/multigender/etc people who started as men, fucked around with being a woman or nonbinary for a while and then either returned to masculinity or kept it as part of them. None that I know of insist of saying they're transmasc the way you do. [I have also seen afab people do the same thing, I'm not making this a birthgender thing, I just used this example somewhere else] I myself, during a period of my life "detransitioned" from transwoman to nonbinary and I did not consider myself transmasc for that.

My kneejerk reaction is of course "fuck you, get your effeminate hands off my special little word" [I'm making fun of myself] but after reading through everything you posted recently and thinking about shit I'm asking myself why. Why do they want the word?

possible answers include:

they just want it

internalized misogyny causing them to grow disillusioned with their previous identity as a woman but they still feel like one and wish to return to it under a new pretext

genuinely feels like they have disconnected entirely with womanhood while transistioning and wants to reconnect

I'm doing a shit job of summarizing my feelings on this, I apologize.

Also, why do you refer to yourself as a trans^4 multigenderqueer (hyperbole) but still have your pronouns listed as they/them.

off anon because I think people who hide behind it are cringe.

hello! thank you for such an excellent breakdown of your feelings, and for taking the time to think about your own emotions (completely sincerely, I had a similar journey like this a while ago and getting rid of first impressions is HARD). I think the main disconnect here is the idea of masculinity and femininity being separate (inherently and for me specifically) -- like i said in the answered ask before this, I'm already both a man and a woman, together, at the same time. This, for me, means that both of those aspects of me are trans simultaneously -- I use transfem while being afab because my femininity is trans. (The same would be true of my masculinity had I been amab)

I can't leave cisfemininity because I never belonged there in the first place, and I would never abandon being a girl altogether, so to me the obvious (and quite honestly only) conclusion is queer femininity (which naturally mtf trans women are an immediate part of). The bullet point explanation you've missed here is that I use transfem because it's simply the most accurate word I've found to describe my identity, and gender limiting things in 2024 of all times just doesn't make sense to me :]

(Also I have they/them because that's what I'm most comfortable being addressed as by *checks follower count* almost 20k people. I use different sets with different people -- but also sometimes expression is a lot simpler than identity haha)

[spacechild-glitchypix]

A lot of people are making a lot of public statements considering this is a situation that has pretty much nothing to do with them.

Look, I'm usually one to be pretty civil on conversations like this in public because I generally feel like people are less likely to listen when you're angry and shouting but I'm also acutely aware that none of you are really paying any attention. You're glossing over statements, you're intentionally reading Rose's statements and apologies in bad faith. If you aren't going to have the good graces to truly listen to either Kab or Rose then, respectfully, back away. You're not contributing anything positive to the conversation, you're talking in circles about points already being addressed and claiming they aren't because the answer doesn't suit your narrative

You can think Rose's comments made in the privacy of his own server are unprofessional until the cows come home but, frankly, his professionalism isn't any of your concern unless you're employing him. And, as for the biphobia comments, I'll speak as someone who was literally in those discord screenshots.

The stuff said in Marshie's post is true but, on a larger scale, this was a common discussion in this server. It wasn't started by Rose, it certainly didn't end with Rose, this was an entire server of queer people who were just sick of the heteronormative way some people would develop their MCs. And if you took that as a personal attack then I apologise but I can't help you with your own feelings. We never expected this to reach public eyes, none of us would've actually said this to a person's face about their own MCs. We're not bullies, our words were posted in a public setting without our permission, the fact you people seemed to have missed that (or even claimed that we apparently weren't private enough because somehow we were supposed to just know one of our members was leaking screenshots of our conversations which is a stance I have seen at least one person take) is honestly very telling.

No one should be expected to be 100% polite or civil in their own spaces (this also includes Rose's blog, before one of you fires blossoming-attorney's post at me), we're allowed to have areas where we can speak our own grievance with friends and be hyperbolic without having to worry about people taking our works out of that space to be put completely on blast to the public. Have none of you people ever complained about a boss before???

But more importantly than that, I just think the level of tone-policing and dogpiling and harassment being leveled at one of my friends over a racist smear campaign is fucking appalling. I don't care if you do not think this is racist because race wasn't brought up, if this wasn't racism then why is Rose the only person you people have thought to go after. Why is he the only person that was named, why did no one try to find anyone else in those screenshots.

This fandom is, quite frankly, a racist cesspit, the people who started this harassment campaign by publiclly posting this bullshit on a throwaway reddit account are scum, the people who pushed it without any sort of critical thinking should be deeply ashamed of themselves and every major artist in the community making a statement as to their stance on this whole ordeal needs to back off

This community has destroyed an incredibly important space where me and many others made a number of good friends for nearly a year over the adrenaline rush of jumping on a bandwagon. You've hurt one of my good friends and tried to get him fired from his job to further a racist smear campaign because you didn't like that he's an outspoken black person.

I hope you're fucking proud of yourselves

[aiyexayen]

aita meme shen yuan

AITA for not telling my new siblings that I'm not their real brother?

Look. Let's get something straight. I didn't ask for this.

I (???M) was living my previous life, in my prime, on my own, just minding my own business, and out of nowhere I get zapped into this fucking fantasy world. I wake up in a body that isn't mine, surrounded by strangers I've never met, with a computer voice in my head telling me how to act or else it will KILL me (again, I guess). Not hyperbole.

I figured it out, though. Who I am now, what I'm supposed to do to appease that damn computer system. Some of the characters--people, were pretty suspicious at first, and I had too many close calls for comfort, but it turns out I'm really good at posing, probably because the guy I'm posing as was the biggest poser around to begin with. Hah!

Now I'm practically immortal (not that I'm complaining about that) and I've got a mountain full of students to teach (that part's fine, too, I guess; they're good kids) and eleven other sibling-teachers bound together by sacred vows on adjacent mountain peaks at their own schools. Eleven. And none of them know that their real brother is dead.

It's not like I killed him myself! I don't know what happened to him at all! I just got stuck into his body! And he's the one who should feel bad, anyway--he was basically a villain! Scum of the earth! I had so much work to clean up after him and all the shitty things he did in his life just to make this place livable!! Fuck!!!

I'm a way better teacher than him and I'm not even qualified! I don't even like kids, either. I'm just not a complete monster. Nobody could be as bad as him.

Besides, he was a jerk to all of his siblings. None of them even liked him! Well, except for my oldest brother. I mean his oldest brother. He's way too nice and forgiving. WAY too nice. As in, I think he'd even forgive me for replacing his darling little brother and not telling him, if I confessed. Which I don't want to do! Why would I? I have everything I could want here to just quietly live and enjoy my life. Doting students and good food and cool abilities that came with the body. All the books I could read, all the music I could play. I get along so well with these brothers and sisters. And I'm so much better to them, too--like anyone would be. It's not like they'd want the scum brother back even if they knew I was an impostor this whole time. Probably.

There's no reason for me to feel guilty for not telling any of them! It's unscientific! I'm absolutely not the asshole here!

Right?

[abundantchewtoys]

Beyond Canon, re: p666.1, 666.2

So, I want to comment.

The fact that the "session" Vriska has begun is no S***b at all but a therapy session in the hyperbolic helltier chamber. Hilarious.

It's cool how the page is basically Homestuck: The Visual Novel. The talksprites & dialogue do the heavy lifting, the background & music's there for the ambiance.

Upon seeing the time skip, Blaperile had the good idea that she might be in here for 6 to 8 years. Bringing Vriska closer in age to the other Meat timeline kids. At least, near the start of their journey to Deltritus. Plus, most of them are functionally immortal.

In a lot of ways, Vriska was left lagging behind. Her insistence on going out to fight Lord English meant that her own personal timeline has been so short until now compared to the rest. Terezi went out to search for her for years upon years, while for her, less than a week passed on Candy Earth? Crazy.

I was wondering what introspection could be forced upon Vriska, that would feel earned. I mean, the post-retcon version of her already did much of this on and off screen, it could've ended up feeling repetitive somehow. But no.

No, this feels right so far.

She spends the first two years (???) trying and failing to move forward with Tavros (and Davepeta). I would've assumed she only had those two locations to explore in all that time (Tavros' hive's terrain and her own). Until she started venting there.

Seems everything in Helltier Alternia is available to her. It probably just never stops feeling fake. Which reminds me a lot of the (revised) ending to qntm's Ra.

SCROLL TO THE NEXT ARROWS TO AVOID SPOILERS ========> . . . . . . . . In which the characters end up on a simulated version of Earth with the story's self-proclaimed protagonist swearing up and down she can feel the difference. And nothing what the people in here do matters as none of it's real. . . . . . . . . <================ END SPOILERS

So, what are the people in the hyberbolic chamber, truly?

Tavros & Aradiabot seem like self-aware versions of their past selves, like unawakend dream selves. Tavros even felt more confident than I've remembered him ever seeing. Hope this isn't because this was his pre-paralysis self.

I kind of wonder if the sprites are standing in for themselves in the chamber. Aka that Vriska hung out with GCATavrosprite-as-his-past-self all this time? Not sure though.

Aradiabot, you ask? Well we know that Alpha Aradia has been travelling to all sorts of alternate timelines and is very much much older than she looks. So she could've gone and filled in for Aradiabot here, too. She used to be her own sprite, after all!

But that doesn't feel entirely satisfactory, either. It kind of feels nicer to imagine Vriska's been engaging with "meta Tavros" and "meta Aradia". Aka, an amalgam of who've they've been in the story, to the people reading Homestuck. Very much a function of the Point, but also very much the character themselves as well.

In other news, how many times will Vriska end up 'dying' in the chamber, on screen? I mean, in the last part she went to lie on her quest bed. Not a lot of sleep happens on those! At least, not for long.

It's hilarious that Davepeta seems to have been designated Vriska's "handler" but has no real experience to help her along. I mean, that's most of the sprites in a nutshell, but still. If the chamber's supposed to give her growth, you'd have thought she'd be given a better helper.

Then again, the sprites might be constructs of the chamber too. Vriska might really be in here alone and the chamber just has her own psyche to work with. She's internalized she's a badass who doesn't need help.

And now she's slowly unlearning things. By now, she's learned to ask other people what they want to do. The prompt "What will you do?" was never about her, it was about the others.

It's going to be interesting to see what she has to confront in the Mindfang path, though. It would be wild to get talksprites for Mindfang or Spidermomsprite! But if it's about her toxically near-religious obediance to Alternia's obsession with ancestors… Yeah I can see her talking with a version of pre-retcon Vriska. Or Aranea. We don't know if she ever did meet a version of her dancestor post-retcon.

Loved how the page went and took in a larger part of the page, like during [S] Cascade. And the branching paths evoke the paths we got to choose from during the time the cartridge was corrupted.

Yeah, on rereading the text, I think Tavros & Aradiabot are elements of the chamber trying to guide Vriska along.

If she'd only contemplated what WORDS could've been better than the ones she said already, instead of jumping to ACTIONS (hers or Tavros'), it wouldn't have taken two years for her to get there with Tavros.

But that's the road she had to travel: Apologies -> Revenge -> Actually sitting down & sorting it out with the other party.

Now for her to unlearn all her other unhealthy coping strategies! Yeah she's going to be here for a while.

Neat bit, that bit about projecting though. It's true, underneath all the bluster, she was just a kid trying to find the best way to deal with the world she was given. And then, when she thought she found it, she put everyone in the same box with her.

And hey, Tavros' reaction (pointing) at realizing she might be projecting… Was that a reference to the Turnabout fangame?

Him proposing they could be projects for one another… Imagine them as moirails, dear god.

Tavros can very much pretend to be blue as he is now (as a sprite).

It's interesting to (re)learn how much Vriska was obsessed with trying to patch things up with Aradia. While Aradia was like "whatever, bye", lol.

And, is the helltier rung thing a real thing? Cause we saw godtiers physically represented as platforms! This seems more like Vriska's finally truly scaling her echeladder.

Like she skipped a few steps in growing as a S***b player, which seems just so like her.

Real on the nose that she spends all this years. Stuck. In her old home. Bent. To return to her hive each time.

Aradiabot's spiel about incremental change & the danger of cycles reminds me of the song. "I'm going around, not in circles but in spirographs." It's the difference between getting stuck in this chamber vs. the dreambubbles, too, I guess.

Waiting to see if this all really will end up with a Scourge Sister fond reunion!

[wyrmguardsecrets]

(1/22) So we've just entered a second trump term and it's already proving to be a fascist circus. Do yourself a favor and don't get swept up by the ridiculousness - i.e. shit like the "roman salute" - because it's going to distract you from what's happening in the oval office. Yes, it was wild Musk basically zieg heiled on national television twice but we already know what he is. We already know what Trump is. None of this is new.

Not everyone is going to make it through the next 4 years because of the shit this administration is going to try to pull. For that reason we should keep ourselves informed and not get sidetracked by whatever ridiculous hyperbolic bullshit that comes out of trumps mouth. We'll be inundated by it all on social media because doomscrolling through emotionally charged content is how these companies keep us engaged and how they get paid. Be proactive in your search for information. Seek reputable sources because the algorithm won't feed it to you.

And since there are groups who will be impacted by trumps policies, maybe be kinder to each other. I get this is a rp blog for world of warcraft but it's a giant community and you or someone you know is already feeling the dread of what's to come. So be kind and compassionate if you can. Cruelty is easy and it's going to flourish on it's own over these next years. Don't suffer assholes but don't be one either.

-

[popculturebuffet]

The Little Engine that COuld: A Cinematic Trilogy of Train Madness (Commission for Lachey V

Happy new year all you happy people!

This year was rough and i'll get into it more in my best of the year lists but for now let's talk about Trains again. Once again Lachey has asked me to cover trains. Unlike Thomas though this one did have a part in my childhood, it's the Little Engine That Could.

The Little Engine that Could, for those who didn't grow up with this one, is a story that had been passed around some time, evolving and even getting a book in the 20's that didn't stand well as a folk tale about a little engine who thinks she can , she thinks she can.. and she's right. The story got popularized by a 1950 version that's been the standard since by publisher Arnold Munk, who wrote a bunch of stories under the pseudonym Walty Piper, one of many. It's a book I cherished as a kid, an inspiring story of not giving up and trains and the cover always stuck out ot me

So when Lachey asked me to cover the various adaptations of it, I was all aboard. So today we're covering the 1963 short, the 1991 tv special and the 2011 Movie. So get aboard for film strips, murder mountains, and nightmare trains, this is The Little Engine that Could

The 1963 Short

Our first is also our shortest with each version ramping up in length and rediculouness. The initial short is just a 1:1 adaptation of the book, which was a nice refresher for me. The story is simple: An engine gets derailed while trying to deliver the birthday train, a train filled with sentient toys for the children

None of the other trains will help him either because their too old or because if they were an ice cream flavor they'd be pralines and dick, the latter being consistent across all three versions. Thankfully a little engine happens by and thinks she can and despite her size and struggles she perseveres. I'ts a good story about overcoming your limitations. I could pick apart this aseop.. but I won't. While perseverance can be a BAD thing sometimes, see our current political state, it's not a bad thing to teach childern especially onces who might have confidence issues. It's a solid short with a good message and nice narration. Not much to say on it but a good time nonetheless.

The 1991 VHS Special:

The 1991 version is Lachey's faviorite, even having a cell from it and i'm happy to say out of the three it's mine too. This special oozes with charm, having a nice soothing tone to it, bright vibrant animation and and starring voice acting legend Kathie Sourcie as the titular engine, named tilly, a child train whose constantly told no to actually getting to haul cargo by the dickish water tower what runs the train yard.

This one nicely expands things, introducing the other engines first so we meet the one whose old, now cartoonishly sputtering and the one whose an asshole who refuses to help because it's beneath them who looks a LOT like a certain other asshole

It's a nice bit of expansion and needed in a half hour specail without overdoing it. It simply gives the trains more fleshed out versions of thir persionalities; the train carrying the birthday train whose name i'd forgotten is kind, motherly and supportive to Tillie, the train whose too old is a milk train, and the train whose an asshole is a bully to tillie.

The entire world hates tillie in this one. That's not an exageration: the tower screams in a child's face no at her desires, and when she does finally sneak out to think she can, the entire world is determined to stop her. That's not hyperbole. A random eagle screechs at her ot turn back. The winds turn against her. A fucking mountain bellows at her TURN BACK TURN BACK. The entire world wants to make sure she can't.. and she proves them wrong. We even get a jaunty musical number that slaps

Also Frank Welker can fucking belt.. I do not understand why they didn't have him sing for the Scooby Doo Musical. But Nothing Can Stop Me Now is a belter, an adorable song that gets the message acrossed amazingly, written by the same chaps what made the ducktales theme. It's a fucking triumphant song.

And naturally after all the trials it plays again when our heroine wins the day, delvering the birthday train to a kid. As you can see not only are the toys fleshed out a bit, but we actually get a story behind the train: it's a train that delivers a ton of toys and good times to someone on their birthday as before but we now get a kid waiting for it while his sister mocks him because older siblings be dicks sometimes. I have a teenagerdom of being called stalin to prove it.

The 1991 special is a great adaptation, taking the general outline of the book and beefing it up into a charming little specail. 30 minutes is just about the right runtime: enough to flesh out the story but not so much you have to add a lot of weird shit to make this a full movie. I mean there is the eagle telling a child train to go back, but it's the normal amount of nuts. For our next one though....

The DTV Full Length Movie (2011)

So in 2011 unviersal studios said "Quick we need a film to put out on dvd grandparents will buy for their kids not knowing better!' and thus the Little Engine that Could 2011 was spat into the world out of a stygian hole in the sky.

The Little Engine that Could has a BAFFLING array of talent behind it. The cast includes Phineas and Ferb's Alyson Stoner , Whoppi Goldberg, Patrick Warburton, Brenda Song, Jim Cummings, Charlie Schlatter and all around legend Jamie Lee Curtis. All fantastic actors who badly needed a paycheck.

LETC takes the bare bones of the main idea, an engine hauling a cart of toys, and makes it the story of Dream Haulers, trains who deliver dreams to children. A concept that could make a good show for younger children, have trains help solve their problems and such, but here is just a backdrop for a very by the numbers plot: A quirky determined underdog wants to live their dream but THE MAN won't let them, meanwhile a child is bullied and needs to learn a lessson or something so he ends up in a fantasy world but it's a BIIIIGGGGGGGG disaster for that world, so our plucky underdog takes him on a journey home with the help of a bunch of oddballs she picks up along the way. She looses faith after the villian tricks her but finds her courage again after a pep talk and everything's fine.

This film felt weirder watching it: you have big names doing this thing, a weird concept that's vaugely defined, usual so bad it's good stuff.. but the film is so bland. Looking back on it for this review it just.. exists. It was a slog to get through and the more I think about it the less it appears. The voice performances are good for the most part: Allyson Stoner, a veteran from Phineas and Ferb at this point, does a fantastic job, using a similar voice to isabella and giving the train a lot more character than the script, Whoopie Goldberg does her best as the stern yet well meaning control tower.. thing, Jamie Lee Curtis is a clown toy, one of may toys the engine fines because THE BOOK DID IT and has a lot of fun and Patrick Warburton is his usual fantastic self as the train's car/sidekick. He dosen't get to do much but that's more because the film is so paper thin. Every character is just... a bland description. The plucky hero, the snooty bully, the valley girl bully, the strict but well meaning boss, the worn out mentor who causes this whole mess and needs to be saved, the villian, the secondary mentor you find on the quest, the comic relief.

The exception to this.. is the most obnoxious character in the movie and sadly our Co-Lead, Richard. Richard is memorable.. because he won't shut the fuck up and won't stop complaning the entire film. He starts out being bullied, with the film giving the old cliche you should stand up to your bullies. That always ends well and surely dosen't still get you a cup of punch in the face. I'm not saying don't stand up, but the film treats it as a weakness of richards for not going back to get his grandpa's pocket watch they take. That he's cowardly. Him avoiding telling his grandpap is a bit but in fairness Richard probably dosen't want to have to bury the bodies. So he hops on a train which rusty, little engine's mentor played by Jim Cummings who tries his best, who taking a nap doesn't notice a child on the train which shatters the barrier between worlds and forces the little engine to take the long way. Just as a quick aside before I gripe about a fictional child... Rusty himself.. is a weak character. We're supposed to WANT him to get his job back, as little engine does.. but he's tired, falling asleep on the job and his negligience causes their tunnel to collapse. All the control tower does is demote him to moving shit around. She doesn't even fire him... if i'ts possible. It's sad.. but even Rusty admits this was his fault. Granted everyone ignoring his backup plan to go over the mountain as an ass saving lie is stupid, and they shoudl've at lest sent someone to scout to see if it was possible. But i'm giving too much credit to a film that is trying for the youngest audience possible as an excuse to fart out crap.. whcih it isn't. I mean i've reviewed 5 seasons of Thomas and Friends at this point: it may be bonkers due to things they didn't think through, but boy you can just feel the love and effort squeezed into every frame, the creativity, the pomp.

Here it's just a lifeless film that plops a troubled boy into it because ad executive law states if you make something with a girl protaganist kids won't love it.. which makes me giggle uncontrollably when I think the most popular younger ages show today not only has a female lead, but actually you know tries. But back in 2011 you had to staple a penis onto a project to get it made, and thus we have Richie who just whines the whole journey. now granted he is right to be a little sore, he's in another universe because he went in a train car to mope. No one would handle that well. But the way he just complains or whinges about the dreamland they pass through being "girly" and asks where all the superheroes are. Richard spends the whole film just not shutting up and only occasionaly lightneing up and is only really useful when there's either no other choice or it's the climax so he has to be. His character development is also weak as he just .. grows a spine because he went on a life threatning adventure?

It may also be because he threw pies at nightmarish simulcra of his bullies. Yeah this film suddenly takes a turn in the last act as for no decsrinble reason we get a proper antagonist. The bullies are just the setup and normally it'd just be the other trains and the tower doubting the engein..which really is enough. When she goes for their help they mocker her like assholes. The only notable one is Brenda Songs, who dosen't have a name, and even then she's just a typical airhead/brat character way bellow her va's paygrade and talents. Song hadn't done amphibia yet but she'd done enough suite life to show she had comedic chops that are never left out to thaw here.

Instead we get THE NIGHTMARE TRAIN, an evil train that tricks the engine into giving her it's cargo and plans to uh.. run around with it, do stuff. He delivers nightmares and.. is never brought up before this. He is intresting, the idea of this oppisite numbers, his plan to only deliver nightmares, he's a little creepy.. but like the rest they just don't do much. We just get the bully hullcinations because it's all production could afford and a chase scene once the little engine is encouraged by patrick warburton to go kick this man's ass.

So everything wraps up okay and this film... it.. sure did happen. That's about it. This film is bonkers but not enough to be so bad it's good, has a cast way too good for it. It exists and that's about all it does and it's questionable if it even does that well. Thankfully the perfect adaptation had only been made and as ravenous for IP hollywood is, this mess hasn't been attempted again. Maybe some day we'll get a tv show, a thomas and friends like affair. But for now i'm glad we got the terrible dtv half assed phase of adapting this joyous book out of our system. Remember i'm pulling for ya, we're all in this together.

[forbiddenchapel]

Every Catholic Martyr Story

(Note - The word 'Every' is hyperbole. But there are so damn many of these that the whole concept of Christian martyrdom becomes ridiculous.)

Random Old-Timey Christian gets busted for being Christian, or trying recruit others into joining a religion that will get them murdered.

Said Christian gets dragged in front of the most important Roman official in the area. Ideally the Emperor, for maximum wow factor, but governors and such will do in a pinch.

Christian gives 'powerful testimony' and/or performs miracles.

Roman official either A- In case of Testimony) doesn't give a shit about the beliefs of one more weird cult member

or B - In Case of Miracles) acts like an un-Pagan idealogue who believes in concepts like heresy, rejects the Christian and orders them killed.

Romans try to kill the Christian ten different ways from Sunday. But, miraculously, none of them work. These profound displays of supernatural force somehow don't impress the intended audience. Because these stories are clearly ripping off the story of Moses and the Ten Plagues.

Romans finally manage to kill the Christian. Because this is a martyr story, and because otherwise Christians would have to explain why there's no record of a Christian pwning the Romans with supernatural powers.

And that's the real, though certainly not the only, problem with all of these stories. According to Christianity, Christians were demonstrating clear proof of their supernatural bonafides all over the Empire. And yet there's no Roman record of any of it. Just accounts of rounding up weirdoes who didn't respect the Emperor, and clearly wanted to get killed. Due to a possible suicide kink inherent in their religion.

Imagine if even half these stories were real. Roman Governors would be sending reports back to Emperor. The Emperor would be at least moderately disturbed by these dangerous cultists who can demonstrate their occult powers/divine blessing/etc right in front of him.

At bare minimum, the Romans would have been worried that a plague of wizards were actively corrupting the Empire for nefarious purposes. And they certainly wouldn't have ever stopped hunting Christians if that was the case. But the bouts of persecution always faded away.

Pwning, or just over-awing, the Romans with supernatural powers would have been way more impressive then just dying in front of Imperial audiences. How do we know that? Because it's how Constantine was supposedly converted.

According to the stories, the Christian god offered him actual military support, instead of sending a bunch of people to commit suicide by cop. Which, you know, he could have done at any time. With any Emperor. Saving his followers from getting mass murdered.

[f0point5]

I think the funniest thing about the wag hate is when they try and cancel them for things they have legitimately said or done that could be seen as offensive. And act like they were big secrets when they normal aren’t. Which means the men they are dating know they said/did/think something. So they either condone it, flat out agree, or don’t care.

Like if I knew someone I was dating was racist (this is an extremely hyperbolic example not something that’s actually happened with one of the WAGs) I would simply not date them. If I was still dating that it would be because I agreed. People don’t just date people with opposing views to them. They date people who are similar to them so all these wags being hated on for their opinions likely have the same/similar opinions to the guys they’re dating

Basically what I’m getting at for the parasocials who need it spelt out differently is:

If your fav drivers WAG believes something you disagree with, you better hold your fav driver to the same standards/hate bc he 99% likely feels the exact same way

I have to say, I don’t think dating someone means you agree with all their views. I certainly could go out with someone who’d said something dumb that I wouldn’t say myself but in the larger context of who they are I don’t think is that deep. People forget you’re with a whole person, not just that one comment or that one small part of their views of humour or whatever. Everyone has their line in the sand and it’s different for everyone but being with someone doesn’t mean you necessarily agree with everything they’ve said or done. It just depends on what is important to you and what your dealbreakers are.

But for sure none of the stuff people “expose” about wags is something a driver wouldn’t know or their team would not know once they enter into a relationship. It’s all publicly available information, because we don’t have any information that’s not public because we aren’t in these people’s private lives. So yeah it’s wild when people dig stuff up and act like they are about to save a driver from the evil clutches of a mad woman 😂

So I guess my point would be - if you have a problem with a wag because of what you think their views are or something they’ve done…your fave driver knows and doesn’t care.

Sit with that. Chew on it. Deal with the reality that he is not a victim, grieve your pathetic obsession and move the fuck on 😂

[haliotropes]

Vigil (Francis Crozier x NB!OC) Preview

This post is a preview/ temperature taker for this fic. My biggest musing is whether to keep it 3rd person or make it 2nd. Either way, mc is non-binary named Bronte. Please enjoy the preview and let me know what you think! Fic below cut.

~~~~~~

Bronte followed James Fitzjames like a dog, and they would have no part in denying it. That's what happens, as Bronte could tell anyone, when you devote yourself to a person completely, and Bronte did, to a very definitive fault. They told James they'd follow him to the ends of the earth; it was considered hyperbole until they actually did.

It was a difficult sell to Sir John Franklin for a great number of reasons. One, Bronte's rank among the men at Singapore had been disputed, despite the fact that they had gone with James from boat to boat, shore to shore, war to war, all the while assuming whatever identity helped them survive and, by promised association, helped James survive. The second reason was the more obvious one: the thing everyone immediately wondered about Bronte, the thing they refused to speak on, because what did it matter? It didn't matter to them, and it didn't affect their marksmanship, or their success as a sailor and soldier.

Bronte and James both knew that if they could convince Sir John to take Bronte, no one would dare question it aloud. Once it became clear that Sir John wanted James, Bronte was all but guaranteed. Because, as much as Bronte followed James, James wanted to go nowhere without them.

Bronte was given no official rank among the Admiralty, which bothered them none. John knew of their exploits, and James would see to it that they got what they were due. It gave Bronte as much comfort as it needed to.

The first time Bronte saw Sir John Franklin, Francis Crozier, and James Clark Ross was not the first time they'd meet them. That date would come later, when they would set sail for the Arctic passage. The night in question came in 1844 at the London Royal Opera House. Bronte sat comfortably in the Admiralty Box, the political implications of which they were blithely aware of, with James, Sir John Barrow, and his son, George. Bronte liked them well enough. A play was being put on about the group of men in the box opposite theirs. It seemed a bit on the nose for Bronte, to tribute someone when they're still alive. Sir John looked at these men thoughtfully.

“Come spring, the Admiralty is going to make one of those men very happy.”

From their seat next to James, Bronte watched as George gave James a knowing smile, and James returned a doubtful, albeit genuine one. He had a right to be doubtful because James had about as much a chance at leadership as they themself did. Where for Bronte it was a matter of appearance, for James, it was a matter of breeding.

“Father means the Passage,” said George. “He thinks it's time to try again-”

“It's high time. I want to see it found while I still live,” Sir John cut in.

A broad, important looking man in the aforementioned box stood and bowed as he was cued to by the actor on stage. Sir John nodded.

“I do not jest when I say the future of Britain very likely sits somewhere up in that box,” he mused. Bronte cast a side glance to James who was, while presumably defeated, as stone faced as ever. He had grown accustomed to second-best since childhood. Bronte, even in their often casual and perhaps uncaring nature, was not too ignorant to deny that their attitude would never hold them back from station. The highest they could climb was always rungs below James. It was a good thing, for both of them, that Bronte did not seek power.

What Bronte wanted was adventure and a death in glory, if James would permit it. Bronte lived to keep James alive. A promise was made, and Bronte would have rather died than see that promise go to ruin. Little did anyone know that the Arctic that called them, the one everyone raced to, would render that promise, and so many others, broken beyond repair.

[sephirthoughts]

Vincent's New Kid Just Dropped CH 10: More Deepground with Some Hojo Mischief

Rating: Mature

Warnings: hojo, canon-typical violence, referenced abuse and medical torture, two guys saying some misogynist BS, and i was gonna say nudity but it's just written, so it only counts as nudity if you imagine the character naked you dirty minded perv

NOTE: There's a scene in this chapter that was directly inspired by @siringadev 's beautiful artwork of Nero and Weiss and they gave me permission to post it with the story! Hit up their blog or twit for more awesome arts!

Unbeknownst to either of the brothers, Director Hojo had decided that now was the time to initiate his planned breeding program, for Weiss. The other scientists begged him to reconsider (out of fear for their own lives, more than any particular compassion for the twins), but he was adamant.

With Nero safely out of the way, for at least a week, including recovery, what better time to put Weiss to work servicing the various incubators he’d chosen to gestate his precious subject’s progeny (Hojo’s actual words). 

That morning, after Nero had been taken away, a handler came to inform Weiss, who was grudgingly teaching some parrying moves to Rosso, that Director Hojo had selected a group of high-performing individuals, as potential entrants to Deepground, and that Weiss was to test them and choose the best candidates, after lunch. 

When these ostensible prospective teammates were shown in to the arena, later that day, Rosso rolled her eyes and snorted audibly, at the transparency of Shinra’s intentions. All of them were female, and of a certain phenotype—small waists, round hips, and large breasts, with pouting lips and big, doe-like eyes. Most notably, none were mako-enhanced, which was the clearest indicator of their real purpose here.

As if it were a legitimate ranks inspection by their new commander, the young women lined up and stood at attention, then introduced themselves, giving their names, ages, and qualifications. They were all educated, accomplished, between twenty and twenty-five years of age, and despite their rather delicate appearances, combat-trained officers or elite troopers. 

Naturally, they had been informed of their intended breeding partner’s age and inexperience, and had been quite expecting to find a gawky teenager. Thus, they were pleasantly surprised to see that Weiss was tall, hyperbolically fit, almost shockingly handsome, and in all ways looked like a full-grown adult male. 

Their flushed cheeks and heated gazes were not lost on Rosso, who was a predator herself, and knew another when she saw it sniffing around her territory. She may not have had any interest in taking Weiss as a mate, herself, but he was her idol and leader. The idea of her leader having a gaggle of silly concubines following him around was an affront to her personal dignity, and got her hackles up.

Weiss, however, far from being enticed by the prospect of healthy, attractive females with which to mate, appeared entirely oblivious to their feminine charms. To Rosso’s endless amusement (and the flat disbelief of the observing scientists), he took the characterization of the situation as ‘vetting prospective teammates’ at face value, and proceeded to do just that.

When the introductions were got through, he ordered Rosso to test the candidates in hand-to-hand combat, then stood by looking bored, while she gleefully thrashed them, one by one.

To add literal insult to actual injury, Weiss ruthlessly rejected each one, as they were defeated, pronouncing them ‘weak’, ‘pathetic’, ‘worthless’, and so forth. 

At the end of an hour, the fifteen bewildered and badly beaten young women had all been sent limping away, to complain to Director Hojo about that evil little harpy, who wouldn’t let them anywhere near Weiss, and beat them all black and blue. 

“Well, the boy is young, and he’s not exactly versed in the ways of the world,” Hojo reasoned. “Perhaps he requires a more direct approach.”

When Weiss arrived at his quarters, that evening, two young women were waiting, lounging in a provocative pose together, on his bed. He stopped short, tense and wary, as the door shut behind him. Desiring to communicate that this was not an ambush (not that kind at least), the young ladies smiled and winked, sliding their hands invitingly up and down one another’s bare thighs.

Weiss’ silver-blue eyes flickered over their soft, curvy bodies, then he turned and slowly shrugged off his jacket, his ropy back muscles flexing and rippling with the motion of his arms. 

This only encouraged the girls, and they redoubled their seductive efforts, beckoning to him and pressing their ripe, round breasts together, under the transparent lace of the lingerie they’d been dressed in. 

Weiss hung his jacket on the hook, then approached the bed, with a beatific smile on his perfect lips.

At that point, anyone who was at all familiar with him would have been making peace with the god of their choice, but the two young ladies had never seen him before today, and took his placid demeanor for approval of their presence.

“I guess Professor Hojo sent you here,” he said mildly, looking down at them. “He really expects me to fuck this kind of haggard trash.”

At these unexpectedly harsh words, both young women bridled indignantly, jumping to their feet and dropping the femme-fatale theatrics.

“Hey, asshole! We don’t like it any more than you do,” one shot back. “We’re following orders, so just hurry up and fuck us, so we can leave, ok?”

Weiss summoned a blade to his hand. “You have polluted the bed my brother and I share, with your whorehouse perfume. Would you like me wash out the stench, with your blood?”

“Brother?” the first girl asked, confused. “Wait, what do you mean, you share a bed?”

“Please, Weiss!” the second girl begged, actually folding her hands in a supplicating pose. “If we don’t get your seed, Professor Hojo said he’ll use us as test subjects for his horrible experiments!”

“Oh—yeah, he did!” the first concurred, nodding vehemently. “You’ve seen the twisted shit he does to people, right? We’d rather die.”

Weiss lowered his blade and hesitated, furrowing his white brow. “It…would be cruel, to allow you to be taken and used for the professor's experiments.” 

“Right!” the girls agreed. “So please, help us out, ok? We promise we’ll show you a good time.”

He drew a deep breath and then nodded. “Very well, I’ll help you.”

Neither of them even saw him move. But neither of them ever saw anything, again. Hojo later remarked, (far more admiringly than was strictly proper, given the circumstances) that not even a world-class surgeon could have done a cleaner, more elegant job of severing a human being’s brain stem, let alone two, and within a millisecond of one another.

Weiss, pleased with himself for his uncharacteristically charitable deed, dismissed his blade and went to the bathroom to shower, leaving the two young beauties lying on the floor by the door, neatly wrapped up in the bed linens they had lain in, which now stank of their unpleasantly heavy, floral perfume. 

While he showered, he reached out to Nero, using their psychic link, only to find himself firmly rebuffed. He was so stunned, that he immediately tried again, from sheer disbelief. Once again, he ran into a solid wall. Weiss was dumbfounded, and immediately worried. 

It was a shared ability, but Nero’s was far stronger, so he had the power to shut Weiss out, and Weiss would be helpless to do anything about it. Only, he never had, before. Why would he do it, now? 

When he emerged from the shower, the bodies were gone, the linens were freshly changed, his supper was waiting, and there was a video call flashing on the monitor. He touched the screen to answer the call, and continued drying himself with his towel. 

The face that popped up was a thin, weathered, middle-aged man, with long black hair, a hawkish nose, and round spectacles, which reflected light in a way that often concealed his eyes.

“I see you didn’t like any of the gifts I sent you,” His nasal voice said, in a tone of exaggerated disappointment. “Well, no matter. I have many more to choose from. Why don’t you tell me what you prefer, and we’ll go from there.”

“I prefer not to find your ‘gifts’ in my room,” Weiss returned, tossing his towel into the laundry bin. He was stark naked, but had absolutely no sense of bodily modesty, having been watched every moment of every day, since he was born. 

The old man on the screen pushed up his spectacles, running his eyes over his subject’s flawless body, in undisguised admiration. This truly was the body of the perfect SOLDIER. Of all his experimental results, over the decades, there was only one who’d turned out better, so he had something of a soft spot for Weiss (as much as a eugenics-obsessed psychopath was capable of, at least). 

“Fair enough, fair enough. There’s no need to send them to pester you in your down time. I can arrange for you to visit them during training hours, if that’s more convenient.”

“Not interested,” Weiss said flatly, as he sat down at the square, steel table, and began to eat his dinner.

“Don’t be difficult, my boy,” Hojo admonished. “You were always slated to be a sire for this breeding program. I won’t hide from you that the success of the project is depending entirely upon you, now. The other intended sire has turned out to be sterile.” He said the last part with an air of grievance, as if the individual in question had been infertile on purpose, to spite him. “Since the girls don’t appeal to you, tell me what incentives we can offer, to smooth the—”

“Professor, you are wasting your time,” Weiss interrupted, setting down his fork. “I will not be acting as a breeding stud, rutting with females at your command, like a pig in a sty. The prospect is as repulsive as it is insulting.” 

Hojo was out of patience, now, and the mask of civility came off. “But it’s perfectly acceptable to you, to fuck your little brother? Who can’t even make use of the valuable genetic material your are wasting on him? Which, I might add, is proprietary Shinra biotechnology!”

“My brother is still a virgin,” Weiss replied tersely. “He’s not old enough for sex.”

“Semantics,” Hojo snorted. “Does it really require penetration, to count? Or is that just what you tell yourself, to excuse what you’ve been doing to that naïve child, who trusts his elder brother so much.”

If Weiss had the intelligence of a normal sixteen-year-old boy, or a much lower opinion of himself, this attack may have worked. However, he was neither stupid, nor plagued by paralyzing self doubt and ego shattering insecurity, like that certain subject that Hojo had been accustomed to dealing with. As such, the blow glanced off his hide like a wooden spear from the hull of a supertanker.

“I love my brother, professor. I will not betray him.”

Hojo waved hand irritably. “Oh, please. Don’t feed me that trite sentimentalism, it’s just copulation! Biology!! What does love have to do with it? Come, now. I’ve been more than reasonable, but I am growing impatient. Everyone has a price, so name yours.”

“There is none.”

“I see. I did not want it to come to this, Weiss. But if you persist in refusing to cooperate, I’ll be forced to use the stick, rather than the carrot.”

“Is that a threat, professor?” Wiess asked.

“I don’t have to make threats, my boy,” Hojo chuckled. “Don’t forget that I own you. And your precious brother. You have twelve hours to name your terms, or there will be consequences.”

With that, the video call disconnected and the screen blanked. Weiss sat perfectly still and calm, finishing his meal, betraying nothing of what was passing in his mind, through his posture or expression. Internally, however, his stomach was twisted into knots of anxiety. 

Hojo’s message was clear: do as I say, or I’ll hurt your brother. But doing what Hojo said would hurt his brother anyway, and thus Weiss was chained between two unacceptable choices. 

Agonized with indecision, and utterly lost without his other half to guide him, he tried to connect to Nero again, but that solid wall was still up.

What could he be doing, that would make him shut Weiss out like this? They’d always used their connection to comfort one another, especially when they were injured or undergoing some painful procedure or another.

Then a dark thought crossed his mind. What if the prototype prosthetic was an excuse, and they’d separated them for the purpose of making similar overtures to Nero, regarding breeding. 

What if he’d agreed, out of concern for Weiss, and was with a woman, right now? What if he’d refused, but they’d drugged or restrained him, and forced him to… 

No. That was paranoia talking. Nero himself had verified the information about the cybernetics specialist, from some handlers’ minds. He’d have known if he was being lied to.

That still left Wiess in this precarious position, alone, which was certainly Hojo’s intention, knowing the Nero was the brains of the operation. Now, it was up to Weiss to think of something, quickly. When Hojo contacted him, the next morning, he found the boy in a more cooperative frame of mind.

“Why does it have to be sex?” Weiss asked. “There are other methods of creating a pregnancy. Isn’t that how Nero and I were made?”

“Of course, in vitro fertilization is my preference,” Hojo answered. “Much cleaner and more reliable. Easier to control all the variables. But the costs for extraction and cryo-storage and implantation are prohibitive, on the scale I desire. Deepground’s budget is tight, and the board is already looking for excuses to slash it. They’ll never approve the extra expense.”

“That must be because they haven’t seen any results, yet,” Weiss pointed out.

Hojo pushed up his spectacles. “Ah, I see you’ve been using the enhanced brain I gave you. Well, go ahead. I’m listening.”

“Why don’t you let me show them that Deepground deserves just as much attention as SOLDIER. That it could be better than SOLDIER, like you always said. If we convince them that it’s worthwhile, they’ll increase the budget, which will free up funds for the in vitro procedures, and benefit the whole program, as well.”

“Interesting, interesting. But that’s a tall order. Just how do you plan to convince them?”

“Let me fight Sephiroth.”

Had the old man been sipping a beverage at that moment, he’d have spit it out, all over the monitor. “F—fight Sephiroth! You??” he sputtered, nearly choking with laughter, now that the initial shock had worn off. “You fool, he’d kill you six ways before you hit the ground!”

“I didn’t say I have to win,” Weiss returned, gloomily. “I just have to not lose badly enough that it’s an embarrassment to Deepground. He obeys you, right? Set up a match between us, for the executives. The board will love it, because it’ll be good PR for their poster boy, and it’ll also show them how successful the work you’re doing here has been. All you have to do is tell Sephiroth the plan, and that he has to beat me without making me look too bad. And get him to endorse the Deepground program. Unless…you can’t control him.”

“Tch, that child is putty in my hands. There’s no need to worry about his cooperation.” Hojo sat back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “The tricky part will be creating a pretext for a sparring match between Shinra’s superstar and a total unknown, like you.”

Weiss shook his head. “That, I can’t help with. I’ve never even been outside. I have no idea how things like that proceed.”

“Never been outside,” Hojo muttered, absently removing his spectacles to wipe them with the sleeve of his lab coat. “Pity, too. You’re such a good boy. The only one who hasn’t disappointed me.”

“Except for Sephiroth, you mean.”

“I mean just as I say. Sephiroth may be well ahead of you, but it’s only because he’s so much older. If you work hard and don’t get lazy, you’ll surpass him, one day.”

This was news to Weiss, and happened to stroke his ego in exactly the right spot. “You…really think so?”

“Indeed. Your genes are purer, since his parents were chosen…impulsively, whereas yours were carefully selected. Most importantly, your mentality is superior to his. You are much less morbid and sensitive, and you have drive that he lacks. You’re ruthless and calculating, and you’re not ashamed of it.”

“Sephiroth seems fairly ruthless and calculating, to me,” Weiss hedged.

“Bosh. He knows how to seem cool and in control, for the public, but it’s all a façade. That boy is moody and temperamental and capricious, like a woman. Not only that, but he doesn’t enjoy success, at all, and spends all his time moping about killing people. And he’s always on about not having mother. You don’t have a mother, and I don’t see you crying about it.”

“What does he need a mother for?” Weiss asked, with a disdainful curl of his lip. “He’s the greatest warrior of all time. He should be proud of how he was raised, without the influence of a woman, to make him soft.”

“Ha! Try telling him that,” Hojo snorted. Then caught himself and cleared his throat. “Ahem. Well. I’ll take your suggestions into consideration. One way or another, we need to arrange a demonstration of your abilities to the board. It’s high time I got a chance to show you off.”

“Professor?” Weiss said, stopping Hojo as he was about to disconnect the call.

“Hm? What is it?”

“My brother. Is he alright?”

“Yes, yes, no need to trouble yourself about that. Dr. Ikari is the best in the world. I’m going to look in on him now, in fact. I’ll make sure everything is proceeding as expected. Is that all?”

“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”

Weiss spent the next two days going through the motions of training, gazing absently off toward the surgical ward for minutes at a time, and letting Rosso follow him around everywhere, because it made no difference to him, if she was there or not.

He actually grew from grudging tolerance to tentative acceptance of her, during those few days, because she obeyed his orders without question, and didn’t try to talk to him, otherwise. Both excellent traits in a subordinate.

They were in the middle of a particularly intense virtual battle, when the simulated beasts and mountain landscape around them suddenly disintegrated, and the room went pitch dark. Then the flashing, red emergency lights came on, casting the room in bloody crimson. The floor shook, with the heavy clang of the reinforced blast doors coming down, over the top of the doors to the training room, as the alarm klaxons began blaring. 

“Lockdown,” Rosso muttered. “But we’re both here, so—”

“Nero,” Weiss said, finishing the thought. 

Rosso stood tense and ready, awaiting further orders, but after a minute had passed, and he hadn’t spoken again, she could no longer bear to remain silent. “Commander? What are we going to do?”

“Nothing,” Weiss said tranquilly. “They will come to us, shortly.”

Rosso glanced reflexively toward the doors, then back at Weiss, who was seating himself in a lotus position, with his long sword balanced across his knees.

She knew better than to question him further, so she did the same, swallowing her deep dread of being locked in a training room, in the dark, and forcing herself to take slow (though rather shaky) breaths.

Perhaps five minutes passed, then suddenly a voice came crackling loudly over the intercom, nearly startling her out of her skin.

“Weiss! There you are! Get the hell over here and control your lunatic brother!”

“Good afternoon, professor,” Weiss replied calmly, looking up toward the camera. “I’d like to comply with your order, sir, but we are in lockdown status. The blast doors have closed.”

There was rustling and some garbled cursing from the other side, then Hojo’s voice returned, sounding annoyed and impatient, but not particularly worried. “These imbeciles can’t lift the lockdown for that room, without lifting it for the entire complex. I assume you can get out on your own?”

Weiss’ eyes glinted in the red glare of the emergency strobes. “Not without causing damage to Shinra property.”

“I hereby authorize you to damage whatever you need to, just get to the surgical ward ASAP. He’s already killed three squads of guards and Hades knows how many doctors and scientific staff.”

“Yes, sir.”

Rosso was a bit confused by what she saw next. Weiss seemed to vanish, from his seated position, and almost simultaneously reappear, standing before the doors, amid multiple flashes of white light. 

“Go protect Director Hojo. Stay with him, until I am sure my brother is safe,” he said over his shoulder, as the steel doors to the training room, and the three-foot thick reinforced blast doors outside those, collapsed to the ground, cleanly sliced into dozens of geometric fragments. 

“Y—yes, sir,” Rosso answered. 

Before the words were even all the way out of her mouth, Weiss had vanished again, displacing air behind him like a small explosion. 

Rosso stood gaping, for a few seconds, before she dashed off to obey his orders. Her heart pounded and her breath came short as she sped down the hall, but it wasn’t from the running. It was from the adrenaline pumping through her body, at the sudden, staggering revelation of Weiss’ speed and strength, and the swiftly dawning realization of just how little of his power she’d actually ever seen. 

She wondered if the Shinra people were even aware of his full power. They must not have been, if they thought that lockdown doors like those were enough to contain him.

Though, Professor Hojo hadn’t seemed to harbor any misguided notions. He hadn’t questioned for a moment that Weiss could break through those doors, and only told him to hurry up. 

What was their relationship, anyway? The two spoke so familiarly with one another, and the professor seemed to have quite a bit of trust in his imprisoned test subject. Well, whatever it was, her orders from Weiss were clear. Find Director Hojo and keep an eye on him, under the pretext of guarding him, as insurance, in case Nero wasn’t alright. 

She almost wished he wouldn’t be. Not that she wished Nero any particular harm (she rather liked the vampiric little psychopath), it was just that, in the case that Nero was killed, or even irreparably harmed, Weiss would certainly revolt against their captors. 

Then she would be free to slash and slaughter to her heart’s content, as they fought their way out of this place. And then…and then she would find either her death, or the open sky. What a glorious day that would be.

Weiss reached the surgical ward, within two minutes of departing the training room, moving like a rush of wind, far faster than the human eye could perceive him, and blowing through the many layers of locked down security doors on the way, like they were nothing more than tissue paper. 

The last set were the double-doors leading into the ward. He kicked them open with a boom, and surveyed the situation. The lights in the main hallway were out, and with the equipment and papers and things strewn all about the floor, and the place lit only by the red emergency strobes, it looked very much like a hospital from a horror film.

Weiss had never seen a horror film, however, and wouldn’t have been frightened by one if he had, and strode into the scene of pandemonium unconcerned.

The hallway branched left and right, and he didn’t know which way Nero was. The cameras and intercom were out, as well, so Hojo couldn’t tell him. The only way was to try their connection.

When he reached out, this time, he thought he’d hit that wall again, but when he tried to draw back, he found himself unable to do so. It wasn’t like Nero holding onto his strand, but more like he’d collided with a wall of thick, sticky tar and sunk a few inches in, and now it didn’t want to let him pull himself free.

Rather than struggle like a fool, he relaxed and let himself sink deeper and deeper into the cold, clinging slime, till suddenly, he popped through on the other side…into a lightless void, so black it was like swimming in ink.

He was pondering which direction to go, when he heard screams, suddenly, and looked over, to see faintly-glowing bluish shapes, being dragged deeper into the blackness.

Seeing his bright, white light, they reached out and begged him for help, probably mistaking him for an angel, come to save them. He ignored their pleas, only following behind as they wailed and bawled, struggling impotently against the inexorable force that was pulling them along. 

This force that was pulling them along was actually thin strands of sticky, black shadow, like nightmare spider’s silk. Weiss knew this, because the strands kept brushing against him, but they never grabbed hold of him or even adhered to his body (or rather, his human-shaped psychic projection).

For what seemed a long time, he followed the doomed souls into the darkness, till at last, eight red suns rose in the black sky, a crown of immense, bloody jewels, emitting no light and yet bathing everything in their crimson glow. 

Weiss realized with a thrill that sent shivers up his spine, that these things were neither suns, nor jewels, but titanic eyes, belonging to a spider the size of a planet.

It was a colossal beast of ancient power, impossibly massive in size, wreathed in writhing shadow, blacker than the abyss, as if the essence of its being was the negation of light, rather than simply the absence thereof. Its eight segmented legs reached out from its thorax, spread wide enough to encompass galaxies, had there been any stars in the abyss. 

With careless ease, it consumed the microscopic souls, which passed in through its fanged jaws in the blink of an eye, and were no more. Then its eyes fell upon the tiny, silver-white star, that had descended into its domain. 

Rearing up suddenly in defense, as high as a nebula rising into the reaches of space, it raised its enormous forelegs and snapped its mandibles, with a sound like the crackling of thunder. 

Weiss, who alone had the strength to maintain a human form in this realm of chaos and annihilation, spread his arms in response, and a ray of light reached out from him to pierce the darkness. 

The spider shrank back, curled into itself, drew its galaxy spanning legs in tight against its black bulk, and hid its eyes from the blinding light. At the same time, hundreds of thousands of black strands of web shot out and wove themselves into a defensive mesh of shadow and confusion, to disorient and keep the angel away. 

To the behemoth’s disbelief, the light passed right through its barrier of webs, and the tiny angel kept coming, unhindered and unafraid. 

The closer it came, the more the spider curled and shrank into itself, until it was hardly larger than a human child. A tiny, pathetic thing, trembling and quaking before a towering angel of light. 

“Brother,” said a voice, as soft as a baby’s breath and as mighty as the roaring of the sea. “Why are you afraid?”

The spider shook harder, and tried to hide what it knew was its hideous, arachnid face, with fanged mandibles and eight eyes, but the angel reached out and took its head in his strong hands. 

“Nero. You are so beautiful,” he said, gently stroking the horned, oil-black exoskeleton. “Never hide your face from me. You may conceal yourself in darkness, and hide away from all the world, but never from me.”

As he said these words, he leaned in, heedless of the huge, venomous fangs, and pressed his perfect lips to the spider’s horrific maw. 

Lured by his warmth and softness, the spider reached helplessly toward him, with its black pedipalps, which seemed to suddenly look much more like human hands, where they touched his broad shoulders. 

Slowly, very slowly, its eight legs uncoiled and wrapped themselves around the angel’s silky, silver-white body, taking care not to hurt him, with the sharp tips of the arachnid appendages. As the angel deepened the kiss, the spider’s fanged jaws spread wider and wider, and began to recede altogether. At last, they revealed the smooth, white, lower half of human face. 

The angel laughed softly and kissed him again, holding onto his bulky thorax and pushing his lips apart, sliding his tongue into his mouth, eager and possessive, and infinitely tender. A kiss filled with a love so profound, it shattered the rest of the spider’s black carapace and fully exposed the tiny, fragile and vulnerable human body, that he had been trying so hard to protect. 

But that didn’t matter now. Weiss was taking him in his arms and holding him close, against his big, solid, blazing hot chest, and Nero’s mind was filled with his strong heartbeat, that sounded in his ears like the music of life itself. 

Nero buried his face in his brother’s neck and breathed a shuddering sigh. It was alright, now. Weiss had him. The spider could hide away in abyss inside, again. Weiss would protect him. Everything would be alright. 

At that time, he had truly believed it.

LINK TO NEXT CHAPTER:

[strawberrynightmere]

I have made this post simply to vent about three characters from Philomel the Fake / There is no place for the fake princess.

Warnings include: an ungodly amount of complaining, child abuse, the effects it has, and spoilers for the manhwa/novel (but I'll try to be as vague as possible, or you could do the sensiblething and not read this post if you don't wanna get spoiled) and so much swearing that it would make Vivian Medrano say "tone it down" (hyperbole, also a lot of that too).

How can one hate fictional characters to the point of just wanting to punch them in the face whenever one sees them? Now, there were a few instances where I was like, "Yeah, understandable," but that was only one character pre fandome, but three? In one fandom? (Technically more, but most are unimportant to me as they get what's coming to them), and all three of them are the protagonists' parents?

Now, let's start with the least worse because this one is tame compared to the other two.

French Gumm Wizard. You pulled the short end of the stick in the Manhwa Shitty Naming Poll (tm), and I pity you, but only a little beraly existent bit. The sole reason for you having 4 different fucking kids with 4 different fucking women (in the most biblical possible way) just for the purpose of a god fucking dammed experiment is mind-boggling to me and the fact that you forgot about the fourth child because once that pregnant woman was out of sight she was also out of mind for you.

Now, anyone who knows his character knows he's a fucking phycopath, and this is not a hyperbole, he genuinely is a phycopath.

He is a terrible parent because of the 3 kids he was aware of existed think of him as an anoying-ass colleague who, if they saw walking their direction, they would immediately teleport to their ass to the othe side of the rode just not to be in his close vicinity. And if they had the power, they would choke him to death, but murder is illegal, and they would be the prime suspects.

The moment you met the daughter you forgot about, you asked if she needed money? Like, alright, it's not like there were people coming to you for that, but for fuck sake, that's a fifteen-year-old that ran away from the imperial castle, she might've stole something from there so she could be well off.

But good for you for feeling bad for the first time in your fucked up life and trying to atone to her, and wanting her to move in the tower with you and the sons even though she didn't have magic. However, you need to draw a line somewhere when it comes to murder. It's one thing to kill someone who planned to harm/kill Philomel, but it's another thing wanting to kill someone who Philomel has been on good terms with.

Now, this bastard, the reason Philomel had to mask her personality during her childhood, that the mask ended up being a part of her in her teenage years. Eustis, it's the name of a terrible man who abuses a dog with anxiety, and the only reason he's married is because his wife pitied him (ifykyk).

There is a lot to unbox about his character, but none of that can excuse what a burning pile of trash he was to Philomel.

Oh, he was just a child when his half siblings wanted to kill him for a decorative piece of metal that indicates that you're a monarch of a country.

That doesn't excuse the way he treated his assumed daughter.

Oh, but he was sad his wife died. Besides, Philomel didn't look like either of them.

But did she deserve the kind of treatment since she was a newborn? And did anyone hear of recessive genes? Oh, right, this is a fucking fictional world so recessive genes are a non existent thing.

But what about the things he did for Philomel?

Philomel doesn't remember the limited times that he wasn't a gaping asshole to her, and she has a photographic memory or used to have because when she discovered that he fait was gonna be at the guillotine was the moment she realized nobody actually cared about her or even loved her for who she was.

But Philomel committed crimes!

Look at this child!

Look at this nine-year-old who just discovered her own future just because of a baby swap that she was not guilty of. And tell me that she deserved it! Tell me that she deserved getting punished just because she was being a child!

Eustis knew she was at the door of his office when he said he wanted her to be quiet like a dead rat! And yet he was surprised when those exact words came to bite him in the ass at full force?

That burning pile of shit did not deserve Philomel, nor does he deserve his biological daughter. If the baby swap never happened, I doubt he would've ever been a good father to her.

And now for the scum who started all of this.

This delusional ass bitch that would make me advocate against women's wrongs!

You're gonna tell me that the reason for not only Philomel's abuse but also Elencia's is because this nutbag has a thing for men with dark hair?

This crazy-ass cunt that agreed with the experiment that Le Gummdrop was doing, ran away from the mage tower, heeding the safety warning and going to the empress who she worked under in her youth and was on friendly terms with, only to swap the babies when the empress died due to childbirth and booked out of the empire right into the woods because she was attacked to the emperor?

Now, she might've felt guilty for it, but that didn't stop her from throwing things near Elencia, almost hitting the girl and screaming at her. Believe it or not, that's abuse.

And yet this mentally unwell trash had the nerve to yell at Philome to leave them alone because she loved Elencia like an actual daughter.

This pure girl!

This pure soul that she kidnapped and abused. This child who cleaned up after this grown ass woman's temper tantrums.

All because she was physically attracted to her father.

I don't care what shitty excuse someone could pull out of their ass to defend her. It won't excuse the crimes she has committed.

No amount of garbage manhwa parents would ever top these three for me.