#ray's theatrical theories

[uselessbiscuitsoul]

SBG headcanon [SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 50, 68]

*This is not mine, the original poster is u/adssfsjs_walnut83 on Reddit

*also I apologise if the image quality is shitty

[orangerosebush]

People online refer to Judith Butler's theory of gender performativity frequently. Understandably so! But to understand the idea, it's valuable to not just rely on random people's (often well-articulated and helpful) presentation of their individual understanding of the theory.

All too often, the role of heterosexuality in gender performativity is ignored -- which is a pity. Understanding the link between "correctly" performing one's gender and heterosexuality is key in contextualizing how and why it was difficult historically to, for example, access any form of medical transition unless one played the role of a heterosexual during intake interviews with clinics. Ray Blanchard, the father of many transmisogynistic discourses today, specifically divided trans women into two categories: heterosexual trans women (whom he "pitied" and deemed "worthy" of a tenuous, conditional validation) and bisexual/lesbian trans women (whom he deemed as being incapable of "truly" being trans).

And this did not just play out in medical contexts, as I know I have somewhere on my blog Lou Sullivan's correspondence with another queer trans man regarding the ways in which their shared experience of queer attraction called their transness into question socially -- even amongst other heterosexual trans men, who saw their political brothers' attraction to men as somehow incompatible with masculinity.

I think that this article also highlights that the process of being 'taught' the kind of ways we should perform our gender occurs both in public and in the privacy of the family. This process is neither passive nor harmless, regardless of whether one is cis or trans. Butler highlights extensively that this process is key to assimilating each generation into patriarchal modes of relating to one another and patriarchy, sensu lato -- an example being how (many) little girls are punished throughout childhood within a family unit for not adhering to the specific roles they "must" play within the family; roles that, in fact, are not at all specific to any family, but rather are roles that are particular to the prejudices within the society they were born into.

To be clear, I do not take Butler's writing on gender performativity as a dogma with how this accounts for the historical complexities of politicizing and policing the body. Many academics, activists, and everyday people have built upon and transcended the ideas articulated in Butler's work here. However, I think it is always helpful to know the legacy we inherit from the thinkers who came before us!

"Performative Acts and Gender Constitution: An Essay in Phenomenology and Feminist Theory" (1988)

“Philosophers rarely think about acting in the theatrical sense […]

When Beauvoir claims that 'woman' is a historical idea and not a natural fact, she clearly underscores the distinction between sex, as biological [...], and gender, as [...] cultural interpretation or signification [...]. [T]o be a woman is to have become a woman, to compel the body to conform to a historical idea of 'woman,' to induce the body to become a cultural sign, to materialize oneself in obedience to a historically delimited possibility, and to do this as a sustained and repeated corporeal project.

[…]

The contention that sex, gender, and heterosexuality are historical products which have become conjoined and reified as natural over time has received a good deal of critical attention[.]

[…]

Surely, there are nuanced and individual ways of doing one's gender, but that one does it, and that one does it in accord with certain sanctions and proscriptions, is clearly not a fully individual matter. Here again, I don't mean to minimize the effect of certain gender norms which originate within the family and are enforced through certain familial modes of punishment and reward and which, as a consequence, might be construed as highly individual, for even there family relations recapitulate, individualize, and specify pre-existing cultural relations; they are rarely, if ever, radically original. The act that one does, the act that one performs, is, in a sense, an act that has been going on before one arrived on the scene. Hence, gender is an act which has been rehearsed, much as a script survives the particular actors who make use of it, but which requires individual actors in order to be actualized and reproduced as reality once again”

[ask-sonicdragonfan]

Sorrel (ruin) dimensional SN

War hardened his British accent

Instead of a star pattern he has replaced his cap with cupcakes to help him stand out, and he wears military camo pants to not only stand out but also tells those around to not mess with him

When not busy he wears t-shirts that are themed over his fatherly nature and to his mischievous nature and shorts

Even though he’s a protective father and husband he’s still a ruin enjoying the theatrical expressions, mischievous jokes and plans, and he’s an excellent actor, and he hates the creator

Just like other ruins he does have a body count he will kill again in order to stop the creator but it doesn’t mean he lives in he will either mouths or just straight up say I’m sorry before finishing the deed.

Sorrel means sour in French

He knows how to read in ancient writings but saying them out loud is a difficult task so he simplifies of what the messages say

He is very smart so don’t take him for a fool when his plans turn bad he’s quick on his feet

He’s a British daycare animatronic originally so he does like British food, snacks and drinks but he’s willing to try anything from around the world

He doesn’t like dogs very much not because of the dogs themselves but the owners that handle them

He likes to read a book and watch movies when he’s with sugarcane it’s the child content stuff but when he’s with friends or with his wife it’s the mature stuff he has a distaste for animal rescues, csi type of shows, and horror (he likes to put the horror shows on purpose just to scare his wife into snuggling him more it’s out of fun than meanness)

He has the patience for kids and sun and moon but the person he can’t stand the most is puppet and Monty

He has no care for the astrals they were long gone in his dimension so he doesn’t care about them much in different universes

He has a soft spot for any kind of babies he gets gushy about them (example) *baby holds his finger * crying saying love he’s holding my finger can we take it home and everyone has to tell him no it already has a parent

While he doesn’t have his arm canon he is still capable of killing a person when he has to he knows how to use weapons and knives and with his high intelligence he’s more dangerous than jack and his just a prototype

He never blamed his wife for what she had done he knew war would catch up to her at some point in her life he’s just glad that the war is over and he and his family can rest comfortably until another serious event happens

He doesn’t fear his lover nor her brother the only thing he’s fears is them being controlled by a more powerful being or them loosing the ability to expel excess energy as he studied them seeing how dangerous they are if they falls into the wrong hands and it is catastrophic and he knows that they know how dangerous they are he’s never saw them in their dragon form but one time and they were no bigger than a skyscraper and that was the day he almost died when she took over along with being shell shocked and destroyed their entire planet causing devastation in it’s wake.

He has a theory about what happens to Witherstorms if a storm was evil it would turn into a black hole but if the storm was turned towards the good side it would become a white hole but he hopes to not see the day that happens for his lover.

If you want to know how skilled he was at being a double agent for the resents think like snape from the Harry Potter series when he did get found out he got himself a different position in the resistance team the scout and assassin sometimes going back to his daycare attendants when the parents were needed on the field

He got the chip in his ray by nexus

[sunfallsprophet]

ꜱʜᴇʟʟꜱʜᴏᴄᴋᴇᴅ.

Term made no sense when they first heard it a hundred years ago (or something like that). Only after reading the paper and seeing the sorry state of the soldiers returning from the WWI did they understand. At any rate, it had been another worthy addition to their age-defying dictionary that, now as they thought about it, they've misplaced somewhere. The perks of being a disorganized immortal.

Still, at least troops back then didn't have to look an atmospheric aberration snaking through the dark veil of nimbus clouds. But where they were simply men, the biological father of Nero and source of the young man's supernatural might was not of the same stock. But seeing as their theatrical sky-high performance put him on edge, Djahima figured that perhaps he was out of his depth. That could change, in time.

They sunned themself between steady sips, enjoying the warmth of the the sun's rays that were valiant enough to break through the barracks of canopies. At irregular intervals, light would reach their braids and catch on their tightly-wound hair, illuminating it so much like golden thread running through strings of beads. They paid no mind to the half-demon's sheepish behavior and only spoke when he managed to choke the words out.

"Oh? You got none. Hm." They tilted their chin up towards the treeline, feigning puzzlement. "Comin' to somebody house in the middle of the woods just to act dottish...that ain't right." And then, another inquiry: who were they? They pointed at him like a teacher might half-heartedly rebuke their pupil for being cheeky. "I the one who should be askin' questions, not you. But," they threw their hands up with low effort. "In-true, I don't much feel like gettin' into a bassa-bassa, so I not goin' fight you on this. I am called Djahima. I am from Barbados."

They didn't much care to make themself easier to understand for the intruder, so the shaman made no effort to reel in their accent nor the use of slang words. If he continued to remain out of good faith, perhaps that would change.

Although, when he broached the subject of their formidable prowess with the natural world, they couldn't help but grin. "It's bewitchin', ain't it? Maybe I can do anything that ol' Jehovah can do. 'Least from what old rag say." They said, speaking on the Bible. "I can control anything natural around us, in theory. I can even turn my body into the raw elements. That's all you gotta know."

⚔ ────▪ ❛ 𝚆𝙷—𝚆𝙷𝙰𝚃 ? . ❜ ⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻ Oh, he could sleep right about now. That always happened, didn't it ? Whether child or man. A raging storm, freezing cold. The warmth of a temperate aftermath. It left one completely drained ; made for a good slumber. Or perhaps it was still the adrenaline wearing off. Vergil couldn't tell. He couldn't even bring his hand up to take the tea so politely offered. That didn't stop him from trying, as pathetic a gesture as it was. He swallowed, throat dry and craving, and gave up. He could take a moment to wait. The person before him wouldn't be too offended, would they ?

                         ❛ My . . . Excuse ? ❜ Did he even have one ? What had he come here for, initially ? He couldn't remember ( yes he could, didn't want to admit it ). His eyes, as wild as they were, scanned the scene before him again and managed to shrug his way from his coat. It felt heavy, and not entirely due to the water seeping through. He needed it off. It was suffocating him in the wake of the calm he felt. It took everything just to use his voice. ❛ I . . . have none ? ❜                           He hated how unsure of himself he sounded ; he should know better. Should be a better conversationalist for the stranger before him, proper. This wasn't the way he was taught. Either as a child, or . . . well. He didn't want to slip back into such a state, so he tried not to think of it. His eyes calmed, a little, not sensing much danger any longer. It was easier to return to himself, though unconsciously, he crossed his forearms against his knees and began to slowly circle his left elbow with his right thumb. It kept him from biting his nails. ❛ Who . . . Who are you ? Why are—Why are you, uh, here ? ❜                           There wasn't much more he could ask, beyond that. It was the question he had wanted to ask when he had gotten there, but he had mistaken the calm for an ambush, and, well. Here they were. The gentle sun cutting through the canopy around them was warm against his skin, warming the rainwater and leaving him shivering a little—he paid no mind to it, and after some time, managed to take the tea cup and saucer in both hands, setting the saucer on his thigh so he could sip at the tea with both hands on the cup. It was still warm, and went down as such ; he hummed, quietly, at the taste. A tea blend he had not had before, but he . . . he liked it. He was surprised with himself.                          ❛ How did you . . .  ❜ But his voice broke a little, and he merely set the cup down, gesturing around. He hoped the question could be finished without words: How did you do all of those things ?

[adamwatchesmovies]

1408 (2007)

Creative, scary and very fun, 1408 may lose some steam towards its conclusion but it doesn't have to. With four alternate endings available, the right "version" is just waiting for you to find it.

Cynical horror author Mike Enslin (John Cusack) travels from one supposedly haunted hotel to the next, collecting material for his next book. His next stop is room 1408 at the Dolphin, a New York City hotel. Its manager, Gerald Olin (Samuel L. Jackson), begs him not to enter. He warns Mike that no one has lasted more than an hour inside 1408.

This is a horror film with many frightening and/or unsettling scenes. As Olin attempts to convince Enslin not to enter the room, to take pictures in a similarly-laid out room, take the many reports of unusual deaths in 1408 and just make something up, we catch snippets of the strange events that have occurred within the walls. Chills will run down your snipe. You run your hand around your neck to make sure there isn't anything amiss there and you shift in your seat. In the next scene, you'll be surprised to find yourself laughing. Enslin never runs out of smart comments to blurt out and always has something sarcastic to say. He’s set in his ways. No matter what he sees, he's determined to prove to himself that what he is seeing is a trick. Every other haunted hotel he's been to is little more than a tourist trap. Room 1408 must be too. The fact that they don’t advertise it as haunted punches a big hole in his theory, but he insists on finding reasons to stay and by the time he, like you, realizes this is no ordinary place… it’s too late. 1408 wants to kill Enslin. Specifically, it wants to torment him until he chooses to leave – via suicide.

I can't imagine anyone in this role besides John Cusack. He’s perfect for the part. You like him but his mean streak also makes you a little happy to see him knocked down a peg. That's until 1408 just takes it too far with its sick sense of humor. Now, you want him to make it out alive again.

There are many great scenes as the room projects illusions or simply changes itself to grind away at our protagonist’s sanity. The best is when Mike looks out his window and sees another room, just like his, occupied by a visitor whose situation is just as dreadful. This moment and others are memorable, masterfully done and, unfortunately, mostly concentrated in the movie's first half. I saw the director’s cut and you can’t help but feel a little cheated at its soft conclusion. This is a horror movie. It's ok to be left disturbed after the end credits! Still, Mikal Håfström does a great job expanding upon the short story by Stephen King. Pay close attention. You’ll notice that each ordeal reflects a circle in Dante Alighieri’s vision of Hell and simultaneously reflects the different stages of grief.

Psychologically disconcerting, well acted, frightening and even funny at times, 1408 is a great horror film. I’d rate it higher but honestly, I can't recommend the cut I’m reviewing. My vote is for the original theatrical version (deemed "too much of a downer" but I disagree) but any other than the default one found on the Director's Cut caps the picture nicely. It may sound like a lot of work to track down the "correct" version of 1408, but it's worth it. (Director’s Cut on Blu-ray, November 16, 2018)

[sunfloweroranges]

𝕋𝕙𝕖 ℂ𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕕 ℍ𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘   𝒮𝓊𝓀𝓊𝓃𝒶 𝓍 𝓃𝒷!𝓇𝑒𝒶𝒹𝑒𝓇 ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳⁱᶜᵃˡ|ᶠᵃⁿᵗᵃˢʸ ᵃᵘ 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 Ⅰ

𝐀/𝐍 𝚆𝚎𝚕𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚎! 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚒𝚜 𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚋𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚛𝚢 [𝚊𝚏𝚊𝚋] · 𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢|𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚖 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚗𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚜 𝚂𝚞𝚔𝚞𝚗𝚊 𝚒𝚜 𝚊 𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘 𝚊𝚛𝚝𝚒𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚕𝚎 · 𝚊𝚌𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚊𝚝𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚝𝚒𝚖𝚎 𝚙𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚘𝚍 𝚘𝚏𝚌 · 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟷𝟷𝚔 · 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚏𝚘𝚞𝚕 𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚞𝚊𝚐𝚎, 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚐𝚞𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚜𝚌𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚜, 𝚝𝚛𝚊𝚍𝚝𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚊𝚕 𝚝𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚘𝚘𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚎𝚌𝚑𝚗𝚒𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜 (𝚞𝚜𝚊𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚗𝚎𝚎𝚍𝚕𝚎𝚜, 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚜), 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚍, 𝚟𝚒𝚘𝚕𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎/𝚏𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝𝚜, 𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎, 𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 · 𝙴𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢!

ℙ𝕥 𝕀 | ℙ𝕥 𝕀𝕀

𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

 · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · · ·

Gazing down, between pale clouds, floating along the winds of the wild sea, coast emerged in its waves.. Japan was a land of art, invention, culture, tradition, truth be told, this realm wasn’t normal, laced with things, beings called curses, land where the thought of men could create powerful monsters, where hate seeped into creation leading to demise or redemption… This province, decorated with mountains in which resided creatures most men feared to think of, cut with rivers, flowing with hills, made of beauty, heritage, decorated with shrines, some old forgotten, rundown and taken back by earth itself, some vividly colored, decorating the ground they were resting upon, risen in praise to gods men believed, risen for protectors, for those who bless with good harvest, which carry victory for its prefecture. This motherland which contained so much beauty so many stories associated with every mountain, every river, even a rock under which resided a spirit providing safe travel, all of that spun from the mind of men, their stories, myths, their conceptions....

· · · · · With a flutter of dark wings, a bird of prey circled one of the fields looking out for pests rummaging in the yearly yield of food for a nearby settlement, in the field worked people, with big straw hats protecting their heads from sun, which slowly rose from behind one of the magnificent mountains that enriched the view from the village.They weren’t the only ones that rose with the warm rays, the animals, their caregivers, the people gathering themselves to go off on a journey far deeper into the land of cherry blossom, with them rose students, in this quite big village, named Tokyo by the prefectures governor Yuga, under care of few, Lead by Nanami Kento, a land owner, respected for his knowledge and sober, clear judgment, people lived prospering lives, educated to the role assigned in their lives by fate, fate which looks unclear until someone, someone like villages takusen or oracle as they were called, cleared their clouded fates and set them on clear path of life..

To become one of the roles, people with their fates leading them to be, either farmers, caregivers, healers, governors or oracles, they were taught, from youngest of ages, taken into schools, to learn the sacred knowledge of their path, this was the tradition after all, though some paths were clearer than others.. which ones? The perfect example would be one of Twins, two humans born of one woman in the same day or night, how were their paths clear already? You see, there’s this thing everyone here has for tradition, legends and mysticism, twins are one of the more buzzing subject, their existence tied to mankind. Every prefecture, every village, had their own word on it, here in Tokyo twins were a dual flame, thought of as one spirit separated into two bodies, with their approach to life being- good always comes first, they thought out their own look..

· · · · · ℌ𝔲𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔰 𝔞 𝔡𝔲𝔞𝔩 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔱, 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔥 𝔰𝔢𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 ��𝔱𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔴𝔬. 𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤- 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢, 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔩𝔢𝔡𝔤𝔢, 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔩𝔬𝔶𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔶, 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔶, 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔫 𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔟𝔲𝔱𝔢𝔰 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔴𝔰 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔫𝔶, 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱, 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔡, 𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢.. 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔦𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔞𝔡.. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔠𝔯𝔶 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯𝔰- 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔨𝔢𝔭𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔳𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔤𝔢, 𝔞𝔰 𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢- 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔬𝔣 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔰, 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔭𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔬 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢 𝔞 𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔞 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔬. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔢, 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔞 𝔴𝔞𝔯 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥, 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞 𝔴𝔢𝔞𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔫 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡, 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔠𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱.. 𝔗𝔴𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔯𝔬𝔩𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔪𝔶, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔢𝔫- 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡, 𝔬𝔟𝔧𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔰 𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔭𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯, 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔲𝔫𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔡𝔲𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔞 𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔢, 𝔟𝔞𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔴𝔬 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔞𝔣𝔢𝔱𝔶..”

With a small shuffle of pages and hands tracing down virtuous letters came a sigh “Well, that’s just harsh don’t you think Kugisaki?” a tired voice brushed through the morning air, two people sat on velvet pillows by a small table, one known by the village, born and raised here in Tokyo, the other.. had a more patchy story, being adopted by a group of scholars when found on the libraries doorstep. “Why?” A bored tone responded, Nobara was staring blankly at the pages full of scribbled in rush notes not even reading them properly, her shorter hair fell messily still not fully settled after a good night’s rest /s. The two were sleep derivated, not only them, almost everyone with maybe a few exceptions, everyone in this year was close to the final exam, the test that would truly determine if their fate was to become a villages miko or takusen.

“People aren’t plain black or white..” y/n spoke with a saddened tone, there they go again, Nobara rolled her eyes and turned her head towards her dear friend, her hand placed down the small notebook, closing it which just proved the theory, Kugisaki wasn’t really learning but just staring at her notes. Y/n sighed and shook their head, there was one thing they knew, how pointless miko or takusen names were, why not just call them oracles? After all they were believed to have both spirit parts, masculine and feminine, if one wanted to become the master oracle their parts should balanced like the lives of twins are.. “You know we can’t go against sacred texts, it’s just what we have to remember.. Knowing only one of us will become the oracle..” Nobara added with little to no hope of actually passing, she already looked into her fate with one of Tokyo’s smaller miko’s, just so she would have the security and clarity of what comes next.

While these words fell Y/n got up from their seat and looked to the beautiful landscape stretching out before their e/c eyes, mountains, countless buildings, some being homes, some small temples, some stores, y/n could never understand how Tokyo was still called a village with the amount of people and the sheer size of it, but what do they knew about governing over land, they were no Yuga nor Nanami to know anything about it, their specialization was in spirits, curses, the mystical side of their land.

Their train of thought was disturbed by their wary eyes catching a glimpse of a flock of birds startled by something, their brows furrowed a little with confusion.. With a moment of thinking y/n came to a conclusion that it was no other but the temple of Tokyo’s head takusen, the most powerful of all, not only in their prefecture, but in the whole sacred province of Japan, Sukuna. The same one that was to take in one of their group in a month or so, when the final test decides who is worthy of working beside the King of Curses, as they called him.

· · · · · On the other side of Tokyo, in a peaceful temple, with beautiful garden right by a calm porch sat no other, but the powerful King of Curses himself, in his favorite white gown embedded with most expensive purples on its hems, sipping on a morning tea before his work would begin, already knowing waves of sorcering warriors would come pleading for him to work their skin, give them power and resistance to fight against enemy, whether it be curse or men. This lovely and most probably the calmest of moments in takusen’s day was cut short by a very particular lanky man, dressed in black with the most annoying voice making the pink haired man want to rip his ears off. “Sukuna!~” All too familiar mess of white hair poked out from behind a corner, this startling a flock of birds from one of the cherry trees and earning just a click of tongue from the tattooed male which just about spilled half of his green tea. “What the hell do you want?” His words were sharp, honestly Gojo was pretty sure everything was, his nails, eyes, even his hair though looking like it was taken care of, if one would dare and touch it their fingers would be cut off. “How harsh” The blindfolded man theatrically clutched his chest, as if pretending to be hurt, though both of them knew that it couldn’t happen, not with how much power the annoying man possessed. “You never come here without a demand, what is it?” Sukuna spoke sparing a glance to the other which rushed over with an idiotic smile he wanted to slap off of this pale face..

While Sukuna wiped dry a small table on which he spilled the tea, Gojo humming sat down and rested his head on one of his hands, a sly smile evident on his face, of course he wanted something, he wanted to see precisely, he wanted to watch The Final Test of the oracle students, but this was a month from now. He already waited 10 years! A decade!! Do you know how excited do you have to be when the one time you’ve seen this miracle show of a test you’ve been 19 and didn’t give a shit about it?! But Gojo had a plan, a plan that was foolproof, doomed to succeed with just a few words.. “Kyotos Miko said you’re weak.” That’s it. A pair of two ruby eyes sparkling with rage fell onto the blindfolded man..

“Oho, but don’t worry, no one questioned your mastery, she questioned, or rather, challenged your ability to ‘teach the mastery of curse tattoo’s to a hatchling’” The man rose his hands in ‘I didn’t do anything’ position. Gojo felt like Sukuna would burst this second if he didn’t calm it a little, his plan might’ve worked just a tiniest bit too well. “Eh? Teaching ability? Who is that bitch..“ The strawberry haired man was stopped from getting up by a lanky hand on his shoulder “Now now, we both know you wouldn’t let your reputatuion suffer, nor let anyone question your power right? But you don’t have any new apprentices, not until next month’s test-“ “The Ceremony is happening tonight.”

Sukuna’s words cut off Gojo which couldn’t help but internally smile like an idiot, his plan worked so much so the most powerful King of Curses made such a decision on a whim, not like the blindfolded man didn’t like it, he loved this idea, he got what he wanted, surprisingly so. Improving his bluffing skills could be checked off of his bucket list for this year. Sukuna got up brushing the white haired males stick-like hand off of his shoulder “Go and tell them already, preparations have to start immediately.” The sly sorcerer didn’t need to be told twice and was gone with the wind as soon as Ryomen finished his sentence.

· · · · · Before Nobara could take a peek through Y/n’s notes, or them even opening their lips to scold their friend for it, the door to the shared dorm flung open, behind them ever so excited Gojo-sensei which seemed to buzz with enthusiasm, which definitely was not reflected by his students which tiredly crawled out of their dorms as their morning calmness was disturbed by their dear teacher. “Y/n, Nobara, go to the outside training field, I’ll meet you there when I gather everyone else.” With those words the white haired man disappeared, something was weird, the sudden spike in their sensei’s eagerness felt off for probably everyone who wasn’t half asleep while walking to the training ground.

The news of sudden, pretty big move of a very important event spread like wildfire, the town having barely woken up was suddenly buzzing with preparations, the streets slowly decorated with vividly colored lampions and flags, tapestries hung out, even animals treated to a good bath and dressed in their best decorative gear, everyone though suddenly rushing tried their best. Nanami, the land owner which probably could be the only one to stop such sudden not well thought out decision seemed to keep silent and move on to assisting and cooperating the giant event that had the whole prefecture keep their eyes on Tokyo which transformed from one moment to another into the most lively, colorful, celebrating village of Japan.

“The big test, your final exam, is moved to...!” Gojo-sensei stood in front of a group of almost 20 half awake students jumping around and moving his hands in a drumroll motion “TONIGHT!!” this word was enough to wake every single one of the students “EEEHHHH?!” “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me..” Y/n whined while Nobara had a hard time gathering her jaw from the floor “Ah ah, language dear y/n-chan~!” Came from the white haired teacher which probably just earned a few more enemies in his class, what a love- hate relationship he had with the class, but who cares?! He was about to witness the greatest festival of them all, The Final Test!

“Now now, everyone calm down! I know you’re excited but there’s a lot to work for! I’ve already prepared a schedule ahead, that was supposed to happen in a month but here we are~” Gojo pulled out a stack of papers seemingly out of nowhere, or everyone was just too tired to notice where they came from but it didn’t matter. The white haired man handed out everyone a single paper which contained a full schedule “The ceremony will start at 10pm! Of course the carnival part will begin two hours earlier, can’t let any kids miss it and bedtime’s at sunset!” Gojo spoke with some weird spark going out of his, probably winking eye which was covered by a blindfold. “Of course I had to change a few things, in a moment you’ll be served breakfast, after that you’ll have two review periods, one for theory the other for practical skills, between them you’ll have a short break to change, since you’ve been split into four groups, two first will have theory then practical reviewing, while the other will have practical and then theoretical periods.”

Now that was a lot of information to take in from the very morning, while Gojo rambled on explaining everything Y/n felt the stress build up, they were close to the top of the class yet the dread of The final exam loomed over their shoulder for a while making them anxious over their performance, this was no joke as Gojo-sensei has repeated between his ramblings.. A shaky breath left their parted lips which felt extra dry now “Alright, that will be all, remember that after dinner there will be a big 3 hour period for practical test and then right after theoretical, no one wants to miss the carnival right? Lovely, now go off, I’ll be meeting all of you here after the meal where we’ll part into two groups!” This felt like a damned summer camp, but demanding like an army training, after all, Gojo was sorcerer warriors commander, y/n had no idea why this guy was in charge of them, but there was no time, everyone had to focus and pull whatever was left of their energy to perform their best.

· · · · · Now the whole day was a rush for everyone, but that didn’t mean that the preparations were half assed, this actually was the opposite, even more attention was given to details, paper and straw figures emerged from under hands of common folk, more intricate decorations or costumes were woven or taken out of their storages in the higher parts of Tokyo, dances and theatrical stunts were practiced. The big event was planned since last year’s summer, yet this one month less, and sudden need of perfection within ONE day was something that truly hasn’t happened ever in the history of any prefecture.. Sukuna’s sudden order shocked the higher up’s but none could protest, whether it be because they feared the head takusen or enjoyed the big event and wanted to see it happen, after all it would trade for one month more of calmness between these once in a decade event.

While in the sorcerer school last year students reviewed all their skills, from intricate designs being pierced into men skin, their design and placement to every miniscule detail, as the speed of each poke, as the ingredients of their tools, from ink to the twine that tied together a sharp point that pierced the skin and a stick held by the oracle. Y/n luckily ended up in the first group which got to theoretical review first, this let them read up on everything they felt a little unsure in, of course the groups weren’t left unsupervised like Gojo would probably leave it be. Nanami Kento himself appeared in the school, being one of the scholars that adopted y/n he was like their father, his presence gave somewhat comfort with a big dose of weight, as if making those which still couldn’t believe it too well, how serious the situation was.

Nobara ended up in something she liked much more, which was kicking ass of weak curses beside the practical application of temporary boosts, which were tattoos applied with special paste and sealed in for a specific amount of time with cursed energy the students learned to harness in around 10 years of their 20 year long education, everyone had their own specific way of harnessing the energy, of applying it to each task, from sealing the paste on an object such as a rock to defending themselves with their cursed tools. Nobara was a blunt woman, and so was her tool, using a hammer, or two, no one was really sure how many she had in her possession, but many feared them, even the rubber squeaky hammer she used most often while practicing the fighting techniques with other students.

“𝔈𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔱𝔢𝔠𝔥𝔫𝔦𝔮𝔲𝔢 𝔳𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔭𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔲𝔩𝔱𝔰 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔳𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔡, 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔱𝔶𝔭𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔩𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔦𝔰 𝔡𝔦𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔯𝔶  𝔰𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔟𝔧𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔶𝔭𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔳𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔩𝔰, 𝔠𝔲𝔱𝔰 𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔬𝔞𝔩, 𝔟𝔬𝔫𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔫, 𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔞𝔩 (𝔰𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔷𝔢 𝔬𝔯 𝔤𝔬𝔩𝔡) 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔭𝔦𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔨𝔦𝔫. 𝔓𝔩��𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔭𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔫, 𝔰𝔨𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱’𝔰 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰, 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔭𝔲𝔱 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔲𝔩𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔬.” With a sigh y/n brushed their fingers through loose strands in their brushed back hair, focused like their life depended on it- because it very much did, they knew just bits and pieces of what awaited, they knew they had to remember each tools usage. That using a young rose thorn and charcoal/eggshell ink provided best working vigor, stamina tattoos rather than using an old thorn and ink made of charred bone which provided agility and core strength to the subject. So much information and so little time to actually fully repeat every single thing. Some students overwhelmed themselves while trying to repeat every single thing, y/n kept to an advice they were given by Nanami-sensei at the very beginning of their journey ‘complete a list with your weaknesses before each test, better yet, every week, and practice over those areas, focus on your weakness instead of repeating things you’ve already caught a proper grasp on.’ Their e/c eyes scanned over their complied notes and the list that was almost halfway checked out, time flew by when one dreaded what was to come.

· · · · · The break that gave the four groups just enough time to gather themselves up, change and attend the opposite groups activity, came too early for y/n’s liking, but they couldn’t do anything, just push themselves just a little more, striving for this, they worked for this for 20 years, this was their fate, everyone here had the same fate, but the result depended on this night, on today, how the hours passes painfully struck these which worked till blood, sweat and tears would mix into success. From sparring between students, alone, in pairs, groups, against each other, against curses, to applications of their knowledge, painting barriers of infinity taught by Gojo-sensei who seemed to master the art of being untouchable, working on their permanent applications on things that weren’t as alive. Gojo made it clear “This is nowhere near what the real skin worked on feels like, as you know having had a chance to feel live skin under your hands! Be prepared to work on skin that you’ve never felt before.” Of course Gojo didn’t know much, but various miko’s and takusen’s gathered and taught individually every single student, from advice to practical showcase of their art.

Sitting in their work gowns every student of the group on a special outdoor desk worked off on what they were given, practicing from simple paper sigils that turned into sparkling butterflies that would light the night sky like starts before fading with the wind to applying temporary tattoos to the carnival animals, such as horses making their appearance so much brighter and eye catching, or giving the nervous ones a light help with a few strokes of a brush that let the animal feel tranquil for the night.

Y/n worked on one of the fruits, with a slender stick made of cherry trees young branch finished with silk thread that held 3 bronze needles on its end, these were one of the more fancy tools, but knowledge of their use was important, a desk over worked one of y/n’s classmates, she held a chestnut stick and a birch rod to which on a 90 degree angle were fixed dried thorns, with light taps of the chestnut stick the woman worked away on the skin of a pumpkin creating one of the most intricate designs one would lay their eyes on, Yukine was the very top of the class after all, no one expected any less.

· · · · · The pressure was immense in the sparring y/n almost losing to their classmate in one on one spare, before remembering that, only killing wasn’t allowed, they used a long stick against a katana of choice of their opponent, this could end bloody but, after all, all tricks were allowed, their e/c focused on their opponents forehead which was hit by invisible burst of cursed energy from y/n, giving them the advantage of shock and tumbling back of their opponent to make a move, flinging the long rod around just to point it at the students throat as he laid on the ground defenseless, point for them, winning this one on one spare y/n set their weapon aside and offered their hand to help the other up…

This may have been a competition but it didn’t mean they hated each other all the time, sure an outcast happened from time to time, but cooperation and bonds with other students were important, as much power as they could harness turning a weak old man into a vigorous giant dragon, one person would never amount to cooperation between works of miko’s and takusen’s, unless you were Sukuna, the one ‘human’ that was able to create spells groups of four couldn’t amount to in power. Cooperation here was key, and they had to know it, take it into account as much as the balance of self within them, whenever they had the chance, fighting or working in pairs or more, they needed to work it out in a way that they would perform best, ‘otherwise they were as good as dead’ harsh but painfully true words that were repeated by probably every single teacher of theirs.

Y/n helped the classmate up “Good fight Seto-kun, but you leave yourself open to other tricks!” Gojo spoke from the side of the sparring ground. Seto nodded to his sensei and left the rink, y/n would face another person, a winner of their own spare, this elimination lead by Gojo’s somehow comprehensive thinking to picking out the weaknesses of his students as well as seeing who was the most capable of combat in this, human on human sparring. Y/n was lucky ending up in top 5 of the students, Yukine, the top class student won the first spot in this group. All of this sparring let the students work on their weaknesses, for y/n it was focusing on disarming their opponent first, without going into much defense or offence, this lead to minutes on end y/n trying to confuse their opponent with no success, which lead to stress and mistakes resulting in their loose.

· · · · · The cool water after countless sparring till they fail was just what y/n needed, the refreshing sip felt like a blessing cooling their hurting lungs and dry throat, sweat glistened on their forehead, just to be wiped off with a small towel, each student had those, it was nice they were given them alongside the water. Y/n’s eyes observed the top 3 students spar against each other from the side, they sighed wiping their nape of sweat, their attire was soaked too, luckily the students will get enough time to have a wash before dinner, today was going to be full of preparations, from here Y/n could see how Tokyo slowly was decorated colorfully. The training  grounds filled with people, changing their activities preparing for the big test right after.

With a blow of refreshing cool wind a brass bell was rung by one of the miko’s calling everyone to the diner to eat what would be their last meal till the carnival to which they still had 7 hours, this first 5 hour period was a pain, imagine now a 6 hour one after this.. Y/n groaned softly realizing how much work was still ahead, the adrenaline still buzzing in their veins seemed to dull the stress for this moment, but surely not for much longer.. They got up and picked up their bo staff putting it on their shoulder, minding everyone around of course, don’t want this stick stuck in anyone’s eye. Y/n deposited the staff with everyone else at the racks where the weapons were taken by school personnel, a luxury in this school.

· · · · · While students of the oracle school worked away on their reviewing and polishing their skills, other schools gathered to help with organizations of the main arena, where the tests would be performed, they worked in a specially build spot, which had beautiful engraved, art in itself, stone walls, which had one entrance for public only and one secret entrance for the participants, which lead underground and into the specially build storage house behind the arena. It had to be cleaned, as if woken up from its slumber, a decade of bare minimum cleaning showed the lack of usage, but it just showed how important the oracles and this Final Test was to the prefecture. People worked on the field, cleaning out any weeds that outgrew a garden that was settled in the arena, which itself was giant, fitting probably all of Tokyo inside its walls, all for 20-30 students of oracle school each decade.

Within these walls were three areas, two similar in size, one being a clean fight rink, the other being a wild garden, that grew in such a way it looked like a piece of wild forest was taken and planted within these walls, the last area, which was smaller, was used as a tattooing space, all of the equipment, such as stools or tables were brung in from the storage house at the back of the arena, which while cleaned was also decorated by students of the art school, with banners, flowers from florists whatever they could find fitting. The fighting area of the ground would be also used as a performance spot before the final test would begin. Every person participating in the parade would end up going to the arena, where they would perform, whether it be theatrical, musical or gymnastic stunts, it all finished here. From this arena they could go to the storage house, which had a fenced off area for the carnival animals to rest in while the Final Test was wtached by Tokyo folks.

The walls were put into sections, for common folk, for scholars, for orchestra which would provide the lovely atmosphere of the arena, and the last section which was right above the main gates, the oracle section, where miko’s, takusen’s and Sukuna himself would be seated, in the same area a little above them the leaders of Tokyo would be seated, because of such rush Yuga could not appear in this decades show, but his prefecture had its own show, he couldn’t complain about missing this one. Nanami left the school while the students of the school were dining, and now a few hours later was the head decision maker to the preparations of the arena, his assistants were send out around Tokyo to look over everything else, the parade, the streets, even the shops and small stalls set up for the carnival itself...

· · · · · Once the sky turned from blues to reds which faded into black, when the sun dipped down behind the horizon and the sky was littered with shimmering stars, once the roads to all nearby temples were lit with sacred fires of their gods, Tokyo began its carnival, music played down in every corner of the colorful village, people like ants flooded the streets, from children to elders, everyone gathering to watch the event which they so carefully prepared.. Now that everything was done, every street beautifully decorated, every performance polished to perfection, the fun, the dance, the singing began.

Paper puppets in shapes of flying majestic dragons swirled around above onlookers head, music and bustle rung in everyone’s ears, food sold in stalls made in a way it looked like a performance itself, with fire lit beneath big iron plates or bowls, with sweet caramel like syrup hardening once swirled in shapes of fish or animals for the children to wonder at and enjoy the sweetness of, with ingredients being swirled and thrown in the air while fried, the streets came to life more than ever..

The students of oracle school finally went down from their school in the mountain, everyone dressed in their carnival robes, which they have had made by other students, students of the craftsman cast, most people took this as a break, as a time to rewind and join the common folk before they would be taken to their final test. Nobara and y/n stuck together, following instructions of their teachers to keep in groups or at least pairs, of course their arrival caused bustle, as much as they would want to just blend in, it was the day they all awaited.

“Look! Mum, look! Shamans!!” one of many children called to their mother which held her child close as the group went down the main street, people parting to make way for them, this felt really awkard for a few people in the group,, y/n included, but they tried not to let it show, holding themselves properly and smiling to the common folk, they were treated almost like a royalty. Y/n followed with the group, they were walking like so to the closest open space where usually people could find a market, but now in the circular spot waited for them the higher-ups, on their front stood Nanami, who was assigned to welcome them an wish them a moment to relax and good luck in their oncoming exam.

When finally, the formalities were done the students scattered around the carnival enjoying the most of it, Nobara and y/n went together to look at two things, the big red and white dragon performance y/n was so excited to see and to take a look at some stalls Nobara was interested in, they went almost hand in hand to make sure the crowd wouldn’t separate them. While caramel haired woman looked at jewelry in one of the stalls y/n watched with their lips slightly parted the swirling dragon to the music played by the artist which went down the street, while they watched a group of small kids approached, much to y/n’s dismay..

Y/n never really liked kids, they were fine, just over there and not here. The children started asking stuff about magic since they’ve seen y/n in the group of shaman students, they were blabbering yelling over each other asking questions that made y/n’s head ache, but they were prepared after their experience on other carnivals. They reached into their gown pocket and pulled out a small folded paper with beautiful swirling pattern on it, just when Nobara  turned to look y/n handed the paper to the children and spoke “If you want to see something magical, think of your favorite color and blow on the paper.” The children curious turned to discuss which color would be best to pick, using this moment y/n grabbed Nobara’s arm and dragged her away “O-oi, y/n!” she exclaimed a little surprised at the sudden escape.

A pair of crimson eyes followed the small interaction, Sukuna was here, and he observed the students which were to compete against each other in just a few hours time, his brows rose curiously when he saw a small paper be handed to a group of children just for the two students to flee the scene. He was about to look away but a burst of countless beautiful crimson and gold butterflies kept his gaze there for just a moment longer, lingering on the magical sigil creatures which illuminated the air around for a moment before falling apart in glitter like dust and fly away with the air...

· · · · · “Suku-“ A roar of flames suddenly appeared, just about saving the shaman from the annoying blindfolded male, for a moment everything looked as if the sun was still out- the deafening rumble of flame slowly died down another noise joined in, first drums slowly picking up speed as a big figure rolled in, an actor with a mask on, red faced man with long white hair, moustache and beard, dancing between live flames which bursted between his moves, other artists around operated the flames or played the wild music with drums and stringed instruments, a group of strong men carried the platform with the actor and behaved as a choir which was deafened by the flames as they yelled their war cries of some sort, this was a part of some big street performance as a few streets over another flame appeared and some other drums joined in, above the roofs towered a figure of a dragon swirling between flames.

Sukuna used that moment to walk away from the blindfolded man which was dressed surprisingly in something else than his atrocious tactical outfit which didn’t even resemble the traditional warriors clothes. The pink haired man was no different, dressed in a special occasion kimono of his- of course some people said these were for females- but who were they to dictate what he wore? The material of these was always so much softer and silky unlike the male gowns! Sukuna slipped past groups of people watching the performance from the side when he ensured Gojo was lost for a moment, a moment to let Sukuna calm down and not fight the annoying man.

With a small sigh the pink haired shaman headed down the streets and alleys, observing the students he saw, recognizing them by a sting of wooden beads on them, weather it be on their necks, on their wrists, ankles or tied to their clothing, this was a symbol all of them carried, each cast had their own symbol, this rosary of sorts was used for various things, mainly for meditation which the shamans performed before after and sometime even during their work- tattooing, imprinting the skin of their subject with sacred symbolisms, with 108 beads they were there to keep count of the prayers and mantras the shamans performed during their rituals.

Sukuna had his own, string of cherry wood beads on himself, usually he had it wrapped around his hand rubbing the beads or seemingly repeating mantras or praying on the daily just as he walked and did his thing, it was a small quirk of his, that special string of beads was made from a branch of a cherry tree Yuji and Sukuna planted over their parents graves deep in one of the mountains, with then a dangerous spread of curses, the two couldn’t visit the grave safely, this was something the shaman kept close to himself, somehow sentimental which wasn’t very known of the fearful king of curses.

· · · · ·

Y/n twirled a string of green sandal wood beads in their hand as they watched with anticipation the biggest performance going on now- the clash of two most powerful beings of the past! The special grade curse dragon and the greatest of shamans, one which could live with a flame flowing though his veins, the idol and admiration figure for all shaman students- these which of course had their path true and wanted to pursue the art of sharp point and ink embedded in skin infused with the magical part of the cursed energy. Their e/c eyes followed the movements of the figures, the flames that danced and licked onto the air around them, the music making y/n’s blood pump faster, they knew the whole story by heart, they were very passionate and loyal to their path, and yet every time this legend was depicted, talked of or shown in such awesome show, they couldn’t help but hold their breath with excitement.

Nobara also was there, well she just joined with two sticks of dango in her hand, one was handed to y/n with a small nudge to their shoulder “Hey- y/n you’re going to catch a fly if you keep your mouth open like that” The brown haired woman chuckled only for y/n to scoff and bite into the treat with a small hum, their eyes once more sticking to the figures which fought between flames, with deafening rumble of the fire and accompanying drums, the earth felt as if it was shaking, the whole performance was so intense l/n felt as if they were sucked back into the old times where it actually happened, the clash of the most powerful beings of their time…

The clash of the legends, this was the leading performance of the parade that slowly but surely moved towards The mountain, on which towered the arena, lit up with countless lamps, paper flying lanterns were lit and left to drift into the clear sky adding stars to it, from few places Y/n’s sigil butterflies appeared, some were from the kids, other were from them handing out a few papers to their classmates to wish upon when they saw a lampion falling, which symbolized a falling star to wish upon. Giant parade, filled with song, music, dances, colorful clothing’s, flowing creature puppets that seemed alive in the artists hands, they all moved towards their final destination… · · · · ·

The giant doors were opened, first to come in were the two fighting figures, which also positioned themselves in the centre of the arena continuing to fight, which symbolized the countless days the shaman had fought with the cursed dragon right here, where this arena was build over the corpse of the very cursed dragon which fell defeated and exorcised after 3 weeks and two days of the fight- this was what the legend spoke of anyway.. The arena filled with people, then came in one by one the other performers, which finished their gigs by the feet of the main two characters and disappeared into the back doors of the arena, where in one room all the students were preparing in a rush, they were changing their clothes and hair, long hair was to be tied in a very specific way, short hair had a special string braided into their strands.

Y/n felt their hands shake as they tied the last knot of their gown, the top was kimono like shirt, laying close to their skin, their chest bounded with bandages, which was the preferred way of y/n’s appearance, they felt more comfortable like so- The red string they tied was around their hips, keeping in place special pants, that when stood in looked almost skirt like, plaited black material was light and was made especially for what was to come, everyone had their uniform made to their needs. y/n had long sleeved top which provided cushion to their elbows and forearms, which were most exposed to painful hits of their bo staff, which was their weapon, which was the last to be picked up by them.

Nobara had a special belt like slot build into her gown which held the nails and hammer of hers, everyone was scrambling around, dressing up fixing their hair to make sure it didn’t fall loose during the first round of which they knew- it was the showcase of their fighting skills, this was what Gojo told them, they would fight in group, then pairs and then alone, all to show off how well they could adapt placed against curses with help or without it.. Y/n let out a shaky sigh as they tightened the band around their h/c hair. Their hand grabbed onto the staff and turned it to vertical position as not to bump into anyone, with a soft pat the staff rested against the guards of their gown, the adrenaline was getting to them, this felt so unreal their whole body shook, they weren’t alone either, someone ended up leaving their dinner in the changing room because of stress…

Y/n’s knuckles turned white as they gripped the staff, outside the roar of flames, the deafening drums and the cheers of the common folk, the whole Tokyo was out there, watching as the legendary shaman defeated the cursed dragon after 3 weeks and 2 days of non stop fight, as the dragon figure fell and the shaman actor rose his weapon the cheers got so loud l/n was pretty sure that the creatures within miles were awake. Fireworks were set off as the actor ‘dragged away’ the defeated dragon, with that the students were motioned to get out there, y/n felt their head spin for a moment as they saw everyone line up with their weapons by their sides, their hands felt cold, the throat tight but they put on a brave face and marched outside, just to be blinded with countless lampions, some floating, some hung, some held or set down on the railings, it was beautiful, but at the same time, completely terrifying…

As the 26 students lined up in front of the main gate, their eyes fell to the figure that rose from his seat, the head shaman, Sukuna, the glint in his crimson eyes as he scanned his plaything- students and soon to be judged apprentices, was piercing, y/n felt as if the air was knocked out of their chest as the pair of mischievous eyes lingered there while staring in their general direction. Sukuna approached the balcony like structure and when a special cone was placed near his mouth his lips parted to speak, the drums on the band side were soft but played in anticipation, truly the musicians were the masters of their path, especially in providing ten times more stress than necessary…

“Welcome, soon to be judged students, one of you will become miko or takusen, the one which will be granted to work alongside the master of their cast! I expect you to do your best, you climbed your way here, you followed your life’s path, time to prove which one of you is worthy! Let’s begin!~” Sukuna’s voice rumbled through the cone which somehow made his voice so much louder, ringing in y/n’s ears repeated ‘prove which one is worthy..’ their mind was somewhere else for a moment, their focus snapped back in place as soon as another voice rung through the surprisingly quiet arena- all of Tokyo was able to shut up in anticipation of what was going to happen. “First test! Showcase of cooperation fight against a high level curse!”

As the bald man in black gown spoke through the cone two groups of men came out from the back doors, each group had a caged curse which was contained for now, the 26 students were split into two groups, 13 people each against a high grade curse, the announcer wasn’t kidding, these curses were dangerous and everyone could feel it- a special veil was casted by group of miko’s and takusen’s which guarded the arena in case anything went wrong, the veil was see through from outside, but from inside it looked as if they had a black courtain pulled over the starless sky. The groups were to fight one after another against the two curses. The order of the groups was chosen by chance of picking out a paper from a bag and this determined which group was first- to Y/n’s demise or, most probably blessing in disguise they ended up in the first group, the first group to fight the high grade curse… · · · ·

The screeches were horrible, gurgling between inhuman roars, almost forming words as bones were cracked, the team worked to their best, they knew this could be the first and last test for them, Y/n clutched their staff which was covered in goo like liquid, supposedly the curses blood, the bastard was hard to kill even with such amount of people, two were already down, l/n didn’t even want to think why that one classmate hasn’t moved in a while, the adrenaline that rushed through their veins burned, it burned so much they were determined to save everyone else, they had some kind of formation, attacking, distracting the beast and attacking from another side, with another technique.

Y/n wiped the bit of blood that was splattered on their face by their classmate, who luckily didn’t loose an arm in this attack. They knew this wasn’t enough, their eyes scanned the area, covered in blood, kicked up dirt, in classmates that fought for their lives,  not even to pass the test, but to come out alive as the curse rampaged inside the arenas fighting ground, there was nowhere to hide, nowhere to wait out, nowhere to run, as the bodies crumbled, horrible cries of their classmates filled their ears, the beating of their heart in their ears felt deafening, almost dulling the loud crack of yet another leg-

Y/n barely spared a glance to one of the boys which tried to get up as their calf bend in half and yet another sickening yell tore through the air, this was a bloodbath that needed to stop.. They never imagined such thing would be happening, no one expected to die here, to loose an arm or  break each and every possible bone in their fragile body. L/n swallowed the bitter taste in their mouth before gathering the most of their sorrow in the densest controlled way, this fight has been going on for much too long- “Just STOP ALREADY!!” Y/n cried as their weapon flared with so much dense cursed energy people outside of the veil stared in shock, Sukuna rose his brows, this particular act of desperation was cute, but he didn’t think this was enough- oh how wrong he was, the blast of the cursed energy, the dense power that sliced right through the demon was enough to collapse the veil held by 8 masters of their cast.

The crimson eyes stared in shock at the figure which stood in the centre of what was a demon just a second ago, now being a splattered mess, Y/n was no different, holding their staff with white from pressure hands, their breath shook, as the dust fell to the ground everyone scrambled to prepare the next group, l/n felt as if they were about to pass out, their chest heaving as the kimono of theirs was now drenched in blood of their classmates, covered in dust and torn by vicious attacks of the by now non existing curse. With a deep shaky inhale Y/n twirled their staff to vertical position behind their arm and bowed to the judges before leaving the scene, the first group was now attended to medically and some were covered with black silk- this didn’t feel real, how did they let these monsters kill their classmates so easily?! They were here for 2 decades, living their lives up to this and yet- and yet..

Y/n clutched their head in their shaking hands, they knew some would have it so much harder later on, loosing fingers, hands, limbs and yet still forcing themselves to perform further, this was a disaster- Y/n ended up with a painful cut to their thigh which was a lucky one at the same time, a bit deeper and y/n would bleed out on the spot- everything was sewn back together, healed to the best extent of takusen’s which were to attend to the students medically, while miko’s prepared the fresh change of clothing and a bath- of course there would be a longer break for the students- those which would survive the first test..

Y/n looked to the boy that had a silk black material pulled over himself- Seto-kun ..Their breath hitched in their throat, this was the same guy they spared with just a few hours ago, their eyes watered, feeling sick, the realization hit them like not one but 17 cursed dragons at once. Y/n covered their lips as one of the takusen’s rushed over to replace the bleeding through bandages on their side and soothe the nausea with some herbal tea, sure it helped, but it somehow didn’t at the same time, seeing the pain, the reality of what fighting a grade one curse was.. Y/n’s mind wandered again, will they be exposed to pair and single fighting? They weren’t even sure if there will be enough people to pair with! This was sick- so so sick… · · · ·

After what felt like hours and at the same time just a few moments the remaining people of the two groups were summoned to the main arena again, from 26 people only 11 were left, some didn’t make it in fight, others were lost soon after the defeat of their opponent, everyone was cleaned, dressed in clean gowns once again, a few were missing limbs, two lost a part of their legs, one lost their whole arm, another lost fingers, other went half blind, they didn’t feel as much pain now, the reverse cursed techniques of the skilled takusen’s were enough to heal their injuries but not regrow their lost limbs, but they all had to perform their best, with new fresh scars, with new fresh traumas.. Their eyes once again fell onto the pink haired, crimson eyed tyran- shaman of the prefecture…

His voice rumbled once again, first, as if mockingly congratulating the students on passing the test, and then announcing “..Since most of the contestants have been, disposed of.. There isn’t a way to pair you accordingly for pair and single fights, most of you unable to perform to their fullest.” Sukuna’s eyes narrowed onto the lacking limbs of some of the students “These parts will be skipped, as you’ve been judged accordingly to your performance in the first, group fight.. Your next test is the performance of your skill with edge and ink.” As the shaman spoke, his hands hid in the sleeves of his kimono, a few people came down to the arena, one held a metal bowl with pieces of paper..

“Each one of you will come up and by chance have their work decided, each paper has a different work an effect assigned to it. The technique and tools are up to your, creation, you have to make your own tools, for gathering your materials you will be given time to explore this part of the arena, you’ll be able to find what you’re looking for if you know what you need.” Another, mocking smile appeared on Sukuna’s face, one that Y/n wanted to slap off of his face, they expect how quickly this idol of theirs, the figure they always looked up to, suddenly turned to the worst being that existed in their eyes.

Each student from right to left was choosing their topics, picking out with fate a paper that would either let them show their best side, or challenge their weaknesses… Y/n’s turn came, their name was called out and they stepped out of the line, no one had their weapons anymore, their hand reached into the brass bowl, the metal cold against their fingers as they caught one slip between their middle and pointer finger, they pulled the single piece out and unfolded it.. “Skin of steel, wise yet greedy, breath of fire with sharp scale. Impenetrable skin, fire breath” Y/n already thought of what they could create, what material to use and what inks, knowing all too well this wasn’t an easy one thing prompt, but two, and two which would definitely be tested, two which could easily lead to demise of their subject. Y/n folded the paper back and held it in their hand, nodding to the judges and bowing to the people in front of them before backing out into their spot in the line, watching and listening to everyone else’s prompts, a lot of them contained hinting at transformation, a complete one, which could be pulled off only by knowledgeable masters, was this some kind of a joke? Or was it truly what they as barely students could be capable of? · · · ·

All they were handed was a small knife and their weapon back, then they were given just a few moments to complete a list of what they needed, before they were let inside this forest in the arena, truly it was a part of the wild, once one entered they felt as if they were in another dimension, but this wasn’t the point, Y/n didn’t have time to admire the beauty of the wilderness contained inside this arena.. They had a list of ingredients, the set they needed was made of three tools and three types of inks, one of which was a paste. Y/n pushed through the bushes looking for just the right plant to take a branch from before stumbling on another piece they needed, a small box which contained a comb like formation of needles, three rows of 4 needles, they took the point and wandered deeper, they needed two more sharp points, a bronze blade and a steel needle, these were harder to find and it was also a rush against time, someone could’ve grabbed that exact blade y/n needed but they weren’t aware of it..

An hour passed, the shield of the full moon rose to its peak as the 11 students emerged from the wilderness with all or lacking a few ingredients, y/n was somehow lucky, able to have gotten all of the necessities to their tattoo, they found a little bronze blade, it definitely needed polishing, but they would be provided with a sharpening stone in their work station, as much of a beast Sukuna seemed to be for organizing this test, he made sure to provide enough things to make this part of the test at least a bit more civilized.. but of course, with that came the price of time..

Sukuna appeared once again on the balcony and spoke to the 11 students, which stood by the prepared stations with what they have gathered, form sharp points to twigs and stings to soil and fish blood for inks.. “You have  gathered your ingredients, time to create your tools, while making tools you have time to come up with your designs, come up with size, complexity and placement, on your subjects.” With his words a group of 11 warriors came down to the arena, they were dressed in only specially tied cloth around their hips, to keep most skin exposed, for the students to have the most of work space and planning they could have. Truly the pink haired shaman was cruel, work the ink, create the tools, design and plan out the tattoo at the same time?!

There was no time to complain though, they didn’t have all day, they honestly barely had any time, the test was supposed to be finished, and the final apprentice was to be chosen before sunrise, they were already up for so long, the adrenaline rush kept them awake but as soon as they had time to sit down, the wave of crushing exhaustion rammed into their sore backs.. Y/n looked at their subject, a warrior, experienced, luckily his back wasn’t as littered with scars as his limbs were, scars were a pain to ink over, y/n ground the paste ink which was to be used as the lines, cut with a bronze blade which was already waiting prepared to be sharpened into perfection with their skilled hand… The students worked away on their tools, tying the sharp points to rods in one way or another, grinding up inks, mixing colors and sharpening their blades, this was a spot of focus, the musicians luckily chilling a bit and giving a more traditional ambience almost letting them relax, but keeping the music fast and jumpy enough to keep the students on edge. · · · · The final bell was hit signaling the begging of their time, they had around 5 hours to make and complete their work, the cursed energy that seeped through the inks, tools and the shamans themselves was suffocating to the onlookers, Nobara was nearby Y/n but the two acted as if they didn’t exits, each student was in their own zone, in their own world working away on the skin they were provided with, some had less luck and had skin that barely took in, some were half lucky, having skin that took in but was littered with scars, there was no perfect skin to work with here, they had to adapt to what they had..

Y/n held the bronze blade with their dominant hand while their other hand pulled the skin stretching it to have the cleanest cuts over a sketch they made with normal ink over their subjects skin, the dark haired warrior luckily laid still as a stone on their table, letting l/n work away on the skin which while littered with freckles took the ink in a bearable way. When the lines were done, each rubbed with a special mixed ink to provide for the impenetrable skin once finished, Y/n grabbed two rods made of sandalwood, one tipped with silver points which were dipped in two inks throughout the process, one in the color of blood and the other in the color of the purest of gold’s, these were embedded into the skin as flames already burning into the skin of their subject the shaman worked away laser focused on their work, switching their tool by the very end to the single point steel needle, which dipped in cold blue ink colored the scales and details of the intricate design, a dragon made of steel, surrounded by fire it breathed, or rather, the fire it created with its presence..

The time flew by so fast Y/n didn’t even notice till the last time the skin was pierced by the steel needle the bell rung again calling the end of tattooing, the tools were all put down and taken away by miko’s that came up to each station taking away the tools in case anyone dared to cheat.. Sukuna’s crimson eyes scanned each student as they were handed the last ingredient, a specially made ointment, they didn’t have any other effect but the protection and quickened healing of the tattoos. His skillful eye caught the sizes, the tools were brung to him too and to other judges, to inspect the mastery of creation, as well as the inks, everything was inspected, a lot of these tools were made well, some even now away from their creators hands radiated dense cursed energy, some inks were better, some worse, some made by people who had both arms, some by people who had to improvise and make up for a lacking arm- which lead to lacking strength, some more potent than other’s..

Each student once finished covering their work was left to clean up their work station as their subjects were healed by takusen’s just a few feet away, this was the magic of the tattoos, fresh they didn’t mean anything, but once healed, fused fully with the skin of the wearer they could gain power unexplainable to normal warriors, these after all, were jujutsu sorcerers, the warriors that fought these grade one curses probably too many times for their liking… Y/n glanced to their subject which seemed fine, there were a few that didn’t take the healing well, something must’ve been off, one from what they overheard, didn’t want to heal at all, as if something was blocking their reversed techniques…

Y/n really just wanted this to be over, somehow they felt so drained and yet so on edge all this time, it felt sickening so long that now it was a dull uncomfortable ache in their chest.. But sooner than later, each subject was to be presented to the final judgment, this being 76% of the whole test grading, the fight didn’t matter as much, though l/n’s classmates lost their lives because of these, every single one of these 11 people, because of making it alive were able to become takusen’s or miko’s if only they wished so, but only one was to be chosen to work under the masterful eye of Sukuna himself.. · · · ·

Each subject was taken out to the arena with their artist and then was tested.. most of the tattoos worked, one transforming a giant warrior into a deadly tiny spider which to test its venom killed a cow within moment, another failed, deforming the subject which then passed from blood loss on everyone’s eyes, another which wasn’t the best but worked, helping the warrior camouflage, not perfectly and sneak soundlessly around anyone. Then came y/n’s turn, their subject stepped out and proudly presented his tattoo, a blue like dragon across his back surrounded by flames, the traditional style was mesmerizing, with swirls and the pattern of coloring definitely catching Sukuna’s eye, this one was quite a piece since the begging, from single handedly killing a barely injured first grade curse, to the technique of their tattooing, but here came the final test, does the tattoo work..?

The man burst into flames, Y/n felt horrified, after all they did everything right! The inks, the needles it all should be perfect why?! Out of their sight at the giant flames Sukuna’s lips tugged into a sadistic smile, maybe the application was right, but seems like the poor little h/c wasn’t so special after all.. Wrong, again, was Sukuna’s judgment clouded by something? From the flames rose a snake like body, besides the hot flames a roar tore through the air, a steel like dragon emerging from the flames, fire licking at the scales which didn’t seem affected at all, of course this wasn’t enough, the dragon, which was honestly so impressive Sukuna had to back out into the shadow to hide his gaping mouth.. Was to undergo another test, the impenenetrable skin, the dragon was attacked, with spears, stones, flames, nothing harmed it, the tattoo was completely impeccable..

The judges had a hard time deciding between a trio of the highest graded students, it took yet another hour, in which they were allowed to finally rest, have a drink of water or green tea and anticipate the final judgment.. “L/n y/n.” The name was called, the h/c figure choked on their beverage almost spilling it all over themselves before jumping to their feet and meeting the judges and Sukuna in the middle, the cheers weren’t there yet, a lot of the towns folk knew the judges sometimes threw out the losers first, but then Sukuna stepped out and looked down at the smaller frame, his head tilting to the side “I hope you will grow stronger, my apprentice.” With these words that sounded so clear, spoken in no risen tone but in a completely silent arena the crowd erupted, the music once again played as Y/n stood there in shock, was it really happening?

The situation still didn’t fully sink in,, unlike the silver needles which pierced the delicate skin of y/n’s left wrist, slowly but surely creating two black bands around it, with every beat of Sukuna’s masterful hands the information slowly sunk in, making l/n laugh and cry at the same time, it happened, they passed, they really did! “oi don’t move l/n..” The crimson eyed shaman spoke as he sat cross-legged on a silk pillow, on the arena still performances happened, a lot of Tokyo folks decided to stay till the tattoo was done and the apprentice would officially join under the wing of the master Sukuna, the King of his cast, that was challenged, challenged by someone who clearly didn’t know what kind of fresh hatchling the shaman got himself… · · · · @ryosmne​ @love-amihan​ @falling4fandoms​ ||if youd like to be added to the tag list, send an ask or a dm :)) cover art belongs to HDL on twitter

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Train Cars and Sun Spots - Kaminari Denki

—/—

You think he’s beautiful.

A disarming, reckless sort of beautiful as he barrels into the train, jumping headfirst through the doors just seconds from closing. He erupts into a flurry of fidgeting as he skids to a stop, one hand patting down his wild blonde hair and the other dusting off his sweats. It’s like he can’t sit still. Like he’s got an itch in his skin that’s shifting his weight around, balancing on one foot and then the other- rinse and repeat as he grabs onto the handrail above his head for stability.

Another second passes and then he’s pulling a plastic water bottle from his bag, twisting it open and crinkling the plastic. It seems to you that that he’s trying to make as much noise possible, but then you notice his headphones. They’re black and yellow, undeniably playing at full blast in his ears. You then decide it’s much more likely that he just can’t hear himself- that he somehow doesn’t realize how much of a scene he’s making in the otherwise quiet train car.

You find it a little refreshing, him seemingly appearing out of nowhere. You’d been riding this train for weeks now, to and from school, and you’d seen the same people day after day. The same old businessmen and their same old brief-cases and their same old silence. Not him though- never him and his noise. You were sure you’d remember hearing someone as loud as him.

Still, you try not to stare.

Although, you suppose, it wouldn’t really matter. He probably wouldn’t be able to pick you out of all the other people staring. It’s like he’s got the entire train car arrested and staggered; all eyes stuck on the strange boy who was moving far too much for a 7:00AM commute.

Shifting in your seat, you balanced your book higher in your hands. You hoped that by just barely skimming your eyes over the top, hiding inconspicuously behind the pages, you could look and not be noticed.

You were wrong.

When you glance over at him, he’s already looking at you. He’s got eyes like molten gold, and when he smiles they crinkle closed into happy little slits. That smile is easy and unrelenting when he pushes away from the handrail, hands shoved into his pockets as he nears.

“Hey there!”

His words are friendly, but god, if his voice isn’t loud. You wince, beginning to think that you’d severely underestimated the volume of his music. You’re sure now that it absolutely must be bursting his eardrums.

“Oh-“ He looks sheepish. Then he’s yanking the headphones from his ears, and dropping into the seat next to you. “Too loud, right? Sorry! Didn’t realize.”

You’re stunned.

At first, it seemed unbelievable that this conversation could’ve arised from just a single glance; but then you look a little closer, at his shifting eyebrows and his grin that’s colored shades of flirtatious and it’s a little more believeable. You realize quickly that’s all it ever would’ve taken with him- A single look.

“I’m Kaminari.” He announces confidently, your silence not deterring him in the slightest. “Kaminari Denki.”

“Oh. Okay. Um, hi?”

“Hi!” He greets again, and then he’s pulling that same water bottle from his back. It’s crinkling and half-empty and he’s extending it to you. “Want some?”

It’s in the way his eyebrows wiggle, the mischeivous glint in his eyes- you can see his intentions plastered across his face. The water bottle’s just a front for an indirect kiss. Quite literally the oldest trick in the book.

You want to roll your eyes, but then you look at him again. At his bright eyes and long lashes and shaggy hair falling softly over his forehead. He’s the sort of pretty that gives a lot of second chances- you were no exception to that rule.

“No thanks.” You laugh, easily dazzled by his sunshine smile. You raise a palm to push the bottle away. “Keep it to yourself, yeah?”

“Aww, but you’re too cute not to share with!”

The line rolls off his tongue smooth and easy, and you’re sure now- Kaminari’s a flirt. A shameless, brazen one dripping honey between his words as he fluffs his hair. It’s all a little too natural, a little too practiced. It takes only seconds, and you know definitively that you’re far from the first girl he’s offered his water to.

He’s still cute though, if only in a fleeting way, so you decide to humor him. It’s not like you’ve got anything more pressing to attend to.

“Mhm. And just how often do you use that line, huh?” You ask, rolling your eyes playfully.

“I-“ He starts, but then he’s slouching into the seat laughing. “Yeah, maybe not my best work. Meant it though.”

“I’m sure you did.”

“No, really! I did!”

You look at him again.

Kaminari’s straightened himself, eyes earnest and smile kind as he gazes back. He’s fiddling with the strings on his sweatshirt, idly twirling them between his fingers. It’s a human gesture. Unrehearsed and unpracticed and seemingly only for your eyes. You begin to wonder if that’s his real tactic- coming on strong just to melt into warm, sun-soaked softness.

“Alright. I believe you. Maybe.” You say. “But you’re on thin ice, Kaminari.”

“I’ll take it!” He fist-bumps the air. “See normally, I’d be totally crashing and burning by now!”

“So you are admitting I’m not the first girl you’ve tried that on?”

“What I- Okay. Yes? Maybe?” He laughs nervously, hand once again twirling his sweatshirt strings. “In my defense, I’m not the smartest guy, alright?”

“Nor the quietest either.”

“What?”

He’s got his head turned, cocked to the side as he blinks slowly at you. You think he looks like a confused puppy.

“You practically screamed at me when you said hi.” You tell him easily, letting an amused smile crawl across your lips. “Kinda thought I was being yelled at for a second.”

“Oh. Yeah, sorry! Really! I didn’t mean to do that.”

“It’s okay. Can I give you just a little advice, though?”

“Sure?”

“Don’t scream at the next girl and then immeadiately offer her something to drink. That’s generally pretty suspicious.”

You watch the light leave Kaminari’s eyes and then he folds in his seat. He snaps at the waist, dropping his face into his palms and letting out a theatric groan.

“God, I messed this up.” He whines, peeking at you through his fingers. “Messed up real bad, didn’t I?”

“A little,” You laugh. “But it’s alright.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re good.”

He smiles then, so relieved and happy and just downright giddy that it nearly blinds you. It’s the kind of smile that makes you think he swallowed the sun; like rays of light were bursting through the tiny gaps in his teeth.

“So, what’s your name then?” He asks.

“L/n Y/n.”

“Y/n. Hmm, I like it.” He sighs happily. “Pretty.”

“That’s my first name.”

“I know.” He grins, all pearly whites and crows feet. You think he’s got a dangerous smile- one that lets him get away with anything. “Figured we’re close enough for that, right?”

“I’ve known you for two minutes.”

“Hey, 2 minutes, 2 hours, 2 years- who’s counting?”

“Me.”

“Okay, well good then.” He snickers. “Because I’m like, really bad at math- Wait. Shit. Should I have told you that?”

“Probably not.”

“Man, I am bad at this.” He whines. His knees knock into yours when he throws himself back into his seat. “It’s not my fault, alright? Usually I never get this this far with girls like you.”

“Girls like me?”

“Mhm. Cute ones.”

“Oh my god.” You roll your eyes, only so forgiving. “Really laying it on thick, huh?”

“For sure. My stop’s next so I gotta make sure you actually like me at some point in the next few minutes.”

Something evil slithers into your mind, and you’re smirking when you turn toward him. There’s just an inkling, a tiny little theory in your head, and you want to test it.

“Who said I didn’t already like you?”

Kaminari jumps, his cheeks reddening by the second. There’s nothing cool or composed about him and your theory is confirmed.

Kaminari is a dork. A massive, massive, dork desperately pretending to be a cool guy.

“I- what? You like me?” He asks excitedly, voice rising higher. “Seriously? Like, actually?”

“Sure.” You giggle. “You seem pretty harmless, all things considered.”

“That’s- is that a compliment?” He asks playfully, squinting his eyes at you. “Because harmless wasn’t exactly what I was going for.”

“Oh, so you were trying to creep me out?”

“No!” He shakes his head, cheeks slightly flushing as he laughs.

You giggle too, unable to help yourself. Kaminari really is cute, a lot more so when he’s not recycling tired lines.

“You’re mean.” He smiles something small and pleased. “I like it.”

Suddenly the train car jolts, brakes squeaking and squealing as it skids to a stop. You rock forward with the force, and Kaminari knocks his shoulders into yours. When you look at his face, he’s got that mischevious glint back in his eyes, as he bites down on his lip. A second passes and then he touches his shoulders into yours again.

“Really sorry.” He smirks. “Bumpy ride, you know?”

You roll your eyes again, but you are actually feeling a bit charmed. He’s got a sneaky way of buttering people up, you realize- of somehow weaponizing his own embarrassment.

“But I actually do have to go.” He stands, and then he’s pressing his hands together and winking. “I’ll see you here same time tomorrow, right?”

“I don’t know, are you gonna yell at me again?”

“Absolutely! Gottta yell at all the pretty girls, you know?”

“Stop.” You laugh, blushing. You nod towards the doors. “I’ll be here, but go. Door’s gonna close, you dork.”

Kaminari nods and then he’s shoving his headphones back in, still crinkling that water between his fingers. There’s nothing quiet about him as he leaves and you come to think that maybe that’s how he really gets you- it’s not with lines or indirect kisses or grace, it’s with air that seems uncomfortably vacant when he leaves. It’s with the vaccuum he leaves behind.

You watch the doors close after him, but he’s stops on the platform, shooting you a thumbs up through the window. There’s a goofy grin plastered across his face, wide and sunny and brillant. It’s the kind of smile that leaves you wondering if Kaminari knows just how brightly he shines.

When the train kicks into motion again, you’re smiling too, rubbing your eyes as you blink away the sun spots he left behind.

//—//

jus a lil somethin for denki,, as a ~treat~,,, may or may not turn this into a tiny lil series we’ll see :))))

[notdysfunk]

YES YES YES!! PLEASE, ABSOLUTELY THROW UR THEORIES AT MINE I WANNA BOUNCE OFF EVERY THEORY AND SEE WHAT WE CAN THINK OFF!! RUIN SPOILERS AGAIN ///

Building on your theory and mine. Sun in the base game is VERY talkative, he talks and talks and has very long sentences. (ive memorized them) When you first meet Sun here, though? Totally different. "REBOOT. REBOOT. WE NEED TO BE WHOLE.!" "LIGHTS ON. TURN THE GENERATORS ON." His sentences are very quick, and the beginning of them are the most important details. I think this is because Moon is still controlling their PHYSICAL BODY. Where they move in the real world is where they move in AR. Sun is trying to choke out the most important details before Moon flies them away. Why Moon? Rewatch how Sun STARES down at you as he floats off. He hangs his arms, and is quite limp. This COULD be because he's sad, but I still feel he'd fly with some theatrics or urgency. No, he just hangs there. I believe Moon flew them up there, and Sun was choking out the important details before that happened. Moon noticed Sun was talking, saying naughty, naughty. Then flew them off. Sun singing backs this up a little, I think! He is able to make full, drawn out sentences like he used to. Albeit very sad, song ones. So this means his fast paced talking wasn't just "oh he has to strain to talk in ar" I might be repeating myself but i think his desperation is BECAUSE he himself has been trapped in AR. Which means Moon is trapped in the real world. And I think the broken down, decrepit world around Moon has drawn him kinda bonkers. Sun just wants to be able to switch again, to let Moon rest in the happier "castle in the sky" AR world. As for the pain surrounding Moon's screaming lines. I think how it works is it is TOO DARK in the daycare for Sun to come out- Turning on the lights that flashbang Moon essentially TRYY and start the transformation. The Helpi says that the daycare attendant is /malfunctioning/ in the tooltip. So I think there is a malfunction that makes it so Sun isn't able to override and come out during these bright beams of light. But the pain of the ATTEMPTED transformation gets Moon stuck, grinding gears in his head might be the rays trying to pop out etc. I also think pre-virus Sun/Moon were also very comfortable and such! Which I think is somewhat hinted at by the way Sun says "No not me, the other me!" Like I said that line sounds something akin to "my other half" which people usually call someone VERY close to them. Needing to be /whole/ might have a double meaning. yes Eclipse, but also fixing their "malfunction"? Allowing them to function and cooperate correctly again? Giggles,, I've analyzed every inch of this game bro PUHLLEASEEE /endrant?

He was practically a vampire hissing at the light!

ALSO INFO DUMP TIME. RUIN SPOILERS BELOWW

holy shit. I'm a mixed bag. I rlly wish we got even more of them,and I'm honestly not sure how to feel about eclipse- nothing too negative tho :o

I've analyzed every bit of dialogue and made edits already and compared how they look and came up with theories. Personally I think Sun was trapped "down under" but is visible thru the mask, of AR.

He has been waiting for someone to come and fix them, leaving arrows and directions in the play structures for Cassie to follow. Once you do the two generators, you can approach sun and moon.

If you have the mask on, approaching Sun will cause him to scream "NO, NOT ME! THE OTHER ME!"(which is honestly cute bc he sees moon as "his other half"? theyre that close? <3)

So he's well aware Cassie is in AR, and he is too. Weird but cool. @ilsole Suggested that the AR is something akin to Sun's imagination.

This is backed up by the fact their tether is absent from when they fly away, perhaps he likes to pretend he can truly fly. There are also clouds and flowing nets and pirate themes, like imagination.

Another piece of evidence is the fact that in AR their room is nice and tidy, where it is otherwise not without the mask. Back on the pirate theme, the hallway to their room has portholes where it does not outside of AR, and the boxes in the hallway are pirate themed.

on top of that pieces of Sun are fixed, or missing in the AR version. One peculiar thing is Moon's side's eye is TOTALLY GONE in AR, unsure why.

And finally, when Eclipse lets you go- you aren't in AR. And for the first time you hear Sun say "thank you" so sweetly. There's no voice filter, and in the real world. Meaning whatever you did, you fixed it where Sun could return to the real world.

tl;dr - Sun is stuck in the AR side, essentially built around his imagination(?)- and eclipsing them allowed Sun to come back out.

[uselessbiscuitsoul]

theory or something

*contains spoilers for episode 54*

The gang started to going to the phantom world when they Had A Haunted Experience. They woke up seperately in their own homes when they got back, and had to figure out how to at least be in the same area. Now Ashlyn, Aiden, Ben, Taylor, and Logan are at the gas station and we all know damn well where Tyler is.

So

The parents (or grandparents in Logan's case),

Just had a Haunted Experience. So I think we can assume they're gonna end up in the phantom world, or at least have to deal with the phantoms at some point.

What worries me severely is

Lily. Tiny, innocent, our adorable birthday girl Lily. She was present while the Haunted Experience with The Parents occured. So does that mean she's gonna have to deal with the phantom world too? God I hope not

(istg red if you put this precious being through the torture that is the Phantom World imma pull a Tyler and fall off a cliff)

[longitudinalwaveme]

Arkham Sessions: Captain Cold

These vignettes, and, more specifically, the characterization of Dr. Hugo Strange, are based on the wonderful Arkham Files YouTube videos produced by Mr. Rogues.

Here's his channel:

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCyxNOHiNclZlVpeRhYV2QRQ

Since I am a huge Flash nerd, I decided to use this idea as a jumping-off point to explore how the Rogues would respond to therapy sessions. Again, all credit to the basic format goes to Mr. Rogues.

Not everything Dr. Strange says should be taken as truth; his bias against costumed vigilantes affects most of his interviews with the patients.

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Leonard Snart, also known as Captain Cold. The patient displays a number of antisocial tendencies, but no formal diagnosis has ever been given to him, and since he arrived at Arkham only a few days ago, I have not had the time to give him a complete psychological examination. Session One. Good day, Mr. Snart.  

Capt. Cold: Len. 

Hugo Strange: Pardon? 

Capt. Cold: Just call me Len, Doc. I ain’t the type to stand on formalities. 

Hugo Strange: Very well, then. (Pause) So, Leonard-

Capt. Cold: Not Leonard, Len. 

Hugo Strange: I take it you’re not especially fond of your given name? 

Capt. Cold: Believe me, Doc, if your name was ‘Leonard Snart’, you wouldn’t be fond of it, either. 

Hugo Strange: Fair enough. So, Len, what exactly influenced you to put on a parka and go running around robbing banks and jewelry stores with a freeze ray?

Capt. Cold: It ain’t a freeze ray, it’s a cold gun. 

Hugo Strange: Besides semantics, what is the difference? 

Capt. Cold: Mr. Freeze-you got him locked up somewhere in this loony bin, right?- has a freeze ray. It shoots ice. Me? I’ve got a cold gun. My gun negates thermal motion. Stops protons and electrons dead in their tracks. People too. Even the Flash slows to a crawl when I hit him with it. 

Hugo Strange: (Surprised; a bit skeptical) Do you mean to say that you have invented a weapon that can create temperatures of absolute zero? 

Capt. Cold: Yep. And I did it years before that lovesick freak got turned into a popsicle man. 

Hugo Strange: Your records indicate that you dropped out of high school at the age of fourteen, Len. How could you possibly have the requisite knowledge to create such a weapon? Are you even familiar with James Prescott Joule or J.J. Thomson? 

Capt. Cold: Who? 

Hugo Strange: J. J. Thomson is the man who discovered the electron. James Prescott Joule is the scientist who discovered the First Law of Thermodynamics. If what you’re saying is true, you managed to exceed the wildest dreams of either of these illustrious men, without even knowing of them or their theories. 

Capt. Cold: Huh. Guess I did. Well, how about that?

Hugo Strange: How could you possibly have managed this, Len? 

Capt. Cold: Just ‘cause I’m trailer trash don’t mean I’m stupid, Doc. 

Hugo Strange: Clearly not. So, how did you do it? 

Capt. Cold: Sorry, Doc. Trade secret. 

Hugo Strange: Len, we gave you a number of psychological and intelligence tests upon your admittance to Arkham Asylum, and-

Capt. Cold: (Cutting him off) About that-what’m I doin’ in this loony bin, anyhow? I ain’t crazy, and even if I were, I’m from Central City. That’s a thousand miles away from Gotham. 

Hugo Strange: A few weeks ago, Iron Heights Penitentiary’s southwestern wall was destroyed in a mysterious accident. As a result, it is currently incapable of holding supercriminals, metahuman or otherwise, and you and your cohorts had to be housed somewhere. Through a series of political and judicial decisions that I confess make as little sense to me as they probably do to you, all of you so-called “Rogues” were transferred to Arkham Asylum until such time as Iron Heights is properly rebuilt. 

Capt. Cold: I get havin’ to send us someplace else if Iron Heights is destroyed, but...I ain’t insane. Why not send me to Blackgate instead of the loony bin? 

Hugo Strange: Many people are of the opinion that anyone who puts on a silly costume in order to commit crimes is insane by definition, Len. 

Capt. Cold: That include you, Doc?

Hugo Strange: Whether or not you are insane in the legal sense of the term is not for me to decide, Len. That being said, I do believe that your decision to commit crimes in such a...theatrical...manner indicates some level of emotional disturbance. 

Capt. Cold: Hey, Doc, you’re the expert on this stuff, not me. 

Hugo Strange: In that case, why don’t we return to the subject of your astonishing invention? 

Capt. Cold: I’m stuck in the loony bin anyway. Might as well. 

Hugo Strange: Can you please refrain from describing this facility as a “loony bin”, Len? The term is pejorative, both for the staff who work here and the other patients who live here.

Capt. Cold: Pejorative? What’s that mean, Doc? 

Hugo Strange: It means that it is rude. Describing the mentally ill as “lunatics” is unkind and unscientific. 

Capt. Cold: Whatever you say, Doc. Whatever you say. 

Hugo Strange: (Coughs) As I was saying, when you arrived at the asylum, we gave you a number of psychological and intelligence tests. While your scores in the area of mathematics were unusually high, especially for someone who never finished high school, your literacy scores were abysmal. You are thirty-eight years old, but you read at the level of the average six-year-old. 

Capt. Cold: Well, we can’t all have your fancy education, Doc. What’s my reading ability got to do with my cold gun? 

Hugo Strange: I find it difficult to believe that a high school dropout-a high school dropout, moreover, who can barely read-would be able to invent a gun that can produce absolute zero on his own. 

Capt. Cold: Are you callin’ me a liar? 

Hugo Strange: Not necessarily, Len. What I am saying is that I do not believe that the Cold Gun was created in the way that you may believe that it was. 

Capt. Cold: Oh, so you ain’t callin’ me a liar-you’re callin’ me crazy. 

Hugo Strange: I did not say that either, Len. 

Capt. Cold: You didn’t have to, Doc. I may be a redneck high-school dropout, but I ain’t survived as long as I have by not knowin’ when people are bad-mouthin’ me. 

Hugo Strange: Len, I am not bad-mouthing you. I am trying to help you.

Capt. Cold: Sure you are.  

Hugo Strange: (Frustrated) Not everyone is looking to take advantage of you, Mr. Snart! 

Capt. Cold: Funny. Hasn’t been my experience, Doc. (Pause) Look. I ain’t mad, Doc. If I had a buck for every time somebody called me trailer trash or a dumb thug or a stupid hick, I wouldn’t need to rob no more banks. You ain’t said nothin’ I haven’t heard a million times before. But I want you to know this: I invented my cold gun, and I did it by myself. I. Ain’t. Stupid. 

Hugo Strange: (Looking to change the subject) Len, I never said that you were unintelligent. In fact, your criminal history makes it quite clear that you are an effective, pragmatic operative. An unintelligent man could never have organized the only successful costumed criminal combine in the nation. Every other group of costumed criminals has folded within a few months at most, usually due to interpersonal tensions, but you have somehow managed to keep your little group together for over a decade. What is it you call yourselves, again?

Capt. Cold: The Rogues. 

Hugo Strange: That’s right. The Rogues. Now tell me, Len, what exactly is the secret to your group’s...ah...success? 

Capt. Cold: (Amused) You plannin’ to start a costumed gang, Doc? 

Hugo Strange: Certainly not. I am simply curious. It isn’t often that I get the opportunity to interview criminals from outside of Gotham’s borders. 

Capt. Cold: It ain’t that complicated, Doc. The reason we’ve held together for so long is ‘cause we got an unspoken code. We watch one another’s backs to the end. Nobody gets left behind; everybody gets an equal share. 

Hugo Strange: (Surprised) Are you implying that you are...friends...with your Rogues? 

Capt. Cold: You think I’d trust people I hate to watch my back?

Hugo Strange: Admittedly, that wouldn’t make much sense...it’s just that I was under the impression that you were the leader of the group.

Capt. Cold: I am. 

Hugo Strange: Most gang bosses I know keep the majority of the profits from their crimes for themselves.Why don’t you? 

Capt. Cold: ‘Cause we’re a team. We do equal work; we get equal rewards. 

Hugo Strange: A surprisingly admirable sentiment for a common thief. 

Capt. Cold: (Proudly) There ain’t nothin’ common about me, Doc. 

Hugo Strange: (Sigh) That’s certainly true, Len. (Pause) On the subject of things that are not common, why the parka and the silly goggles? 

Capt. Cold: Practicality. Parka keeps me warm; goggles help focus my vision and keep me from bein’ blinded by the flare of my own cold gun. 

Hugo Strange: I see. (Pause) And why call yourself “Captain Cold”? After all, you aren’t really a Captain of anything. 

Capt. Cold: I’ll admit, it ain’t the most creative name in the world...but anything’s better than “Leonard Snart”. 

Hugo Strange: Why not just change your name, then? Why take up a ridiculous costumed alias?

Capt. Cold: Because I’m not just an ordinary thug. Leonard Snart is ordinary; boring…..but Captain Cold? Captain Cold is cool.

Hugo Strange: Was that a...pun?

Capt. Cold: What can I say? I admit they’re dumb, but old habits die hard. 

Hugo Strange: And the Flash had nothing to do with your decision to put on a costume and call yourself by a silly, alliterative name while committing crimes? 

Capt. Cold: The Flash? Why would he have anything to do with it? 

Hugo Strange: I was under the impression that the Flash was your arch-enemy. 

Capt. Cold: (Laughs) Arch-enemy? What is this, a Saturday morning TV show? 

Hugo Strange: The Central City papers make quite a big deal of your rivalry with the so-called “Scarlet Speedster”. 

Capt. Cold: Look, the Flash is basically a cop. Sure, he’s a cop with superpowers, and he’s good for sharpening our wits, but at the end of the day, he’s just an obstacle to our getting the score. 

Hugo Strange: Then you don’t view your battles with him as some epic confrontation between ideologies? 

Capt. Cold: Why would I do that? Ideologies don’t pay the grocery bills, Doc. 

Hugo Strange: And you haven’t dedicated your life to proving your superiority over him once and for all? 

Capt. Cold: No. I fight the Flash for the same reasons I fight the cops: I want to get rich, and he’s standing in my way. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less.

Hugo Strange: So the Flash is nothing special to you?

Capt. Cold: I didn’t say that. Like I said, he’s good for sharpening the wits. I wouldn’t be half as successful as I am if he weren’t around to keep me and the guys on our toes, and yeah, it’d be neat to finally get the victory over him once and for all...but really, he ain’t so different from us. He’s just another guy workin’ a nine-to-five, tryin’ to provide for his family. I don’t like him-he’s a stuck-up, self-righteous prig sometimes-but he’s a good person. He’s not a superhero ‘cause he wants hero-worship. He actually wants to help people. He’s even helped me, and I make a career out of trying to freeze-dry him. You gotta respect a guy like that. 

Hugo Strange: You actually see the Flash as a man?

Capt. Cold: What else would I see him as? A Martian? ‘Cause I’ve seen Martians, and I can tell you, the Flash ain’t green enough to be one.

Hugo Strange: It’s not that. It’s just that I’ve spent so much time with the patients who view Bruce Wayne, formerly the Batman, as some sort of supernatural entity or as a grand opposite in a never-ending conflict between order and chaos that it’s rather...odd to listen to a costumed criminal who claims to view their local costumed vigilante simply as a person. 

Capt. Cold: Man, you have got to get out more. 

Hugo Strange: (Coldly)  I don’t recall requesting life advice from you, Mr. Snart. 

Capt. Cold: Well, you should take it anyway. Ain’t often I give stuff away for free. 

Hugo Strange: (Annoyed) This session is not about me, Mr. Snart. It’s about you. 

Capt. Cold: What else do you wanna talk about? I’m not stupid, I’m not creepily obsessed with the Flash, I don’t butcher people for fun, and I don’t have any weird hang-ups about dead relatives or riddles or plants or dolls or jokes or the number two. I’m not a good guy, but I think I’m a pretty normal guy, all things considered. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Snart, no one puts on a costume without some sort of psychological disturbance. Even if the Flash was not in some way responsible for your decision-something which I am not yet fully convinced of-no rational human being would do such a thing. I just need to find out what your disturbance is. (Pause) Perhaps it began in your childhood, Mr. Snart? 

Capt. Cold: (Icily) My childhood is none of your business. 

Hugo Strange: I am your psychologist, Mr. Snart. That makes it my business. (Pause) Let’s see. Your file says that you were born to Lawrence Snart, a forty-year-old police officer who was kicked off the force for public drunkenness and suspected corruption, and Shirley Snart, a fifteen-year-old high school dropout. You and your family lived in a dilapidated trailer park, and your father was a known alcoholic who drank away your family’s welfare money. Five years after you came along, your younger sister, Lisa, was born...and your mother ran away, never to be seen again. The neighbors called the police because of domestic disputes between her and your father no less than thirteen times in five years, which leads me to suspect that she was spurred to leave the family because of her husband’s abuse. You were left to raise your sister, essentially on your own, at five years old, and you were effectively the head of the household from that point on. You never had a childhood, Mr. Snart. 

Capt. Cold: Don’t you talk about my sister!

Hugo Strange: I take it that you’re close to her? Understandable, I suppose, given that you grew up with her in an abusive household. Your grandfather, who drove an ice cream truck, did his best to protect you and your sister from your father’s cruelty, but he was old and in poor health, and he died when you were only twelve years old. You never got over the loss, and your father’s abuse only got worse as you and your sister got older. When you turned 14, you dropped out of high school; you then worked a number of odd jobs to support yourself and your sister. However, shortly after you turned 18, you and your father got into a dreadful argument, one that ended with you running away from home and leaving your little sister alone with your father. After that, you eventually fell into a life of petty crime. 

Capt. Cold: I...I had no choice. If I hadn’t left, he would’ve killed me! 

Hugo Strange: I am not blaming you for choosing to run away, Mr. Snart. You were an abused child with very few options available to you. 

Capt. Cold: (Quietly) I could’ve taken her with me. 

Hugo Strange: And why didn’t you? 

Capt. Cold: ‘Cause I was an 18-year-old dropout. Nobody was gonna give me custody of my sister...and besides, I’d started hangin’ out with dangerous people. I...I didn’t want her to get hurt. 

Hugo Strange: In other words, she would have been in danger no matter what you had done. 

Capt. Cold: It don’t matter! I’m her big brother! I was supposed to protect her! 

Hugo Strange: (Coming to a realization) And because you weren’t able to protect her from your father as a boy, you’re trying to make up for it now by becoming this “Captain Cold”; a larger-than-life persona that can do all the things you weren’t able to do as a child. You’ve made yourself too powerful and dangerous for anyone to threaten, and you’ve made a surrogate family for yourself and your sister. That’s why the Rogues are so successful...it’s because they aren’t really a gang at all. They’re your family. Isn’t that right, Mr. Snart? 

Capt. Cold: (Sarcastically) An’ I suppose the fact that my grandpa drove an ice cream truck somehow subconsciously influenced my decision to become Captain Cold? 

Hugo Strange: (Aware of the sarcasm, but ignoring it)  That’s perhaps a bit of a stretch, but it isn’t impossible. 

Capt. Cold: I don’t believe this….

Hugo Strange: Don’t be afraid, Mr. Snart. Admitting you have a problem is difficult, but it’s also the first step on the road to recovery. 

[itsgerges]

Best Greetings

No Planet Moves By The Sun Mass Gravity

 Abstract

Paper Argument

No Planet Moves By The Sun Mass Gravity

The Argument Explanation

-         One Force Should Cause The Planet Creation And Motion – otherwise this planet will be broken and destroyed

-         Newton theory of the sun gravity is wrong in its logic and that effects negatively on Einstein Theory of The General Relativity.  

-         As a result,

-         One Force Causes The Solar System Creation And Motion – means-

-         The Solar System Be Created Based On One Geometrical Design

 -         The paper provides a new discovery in the science – it claims

-         There was One Geometrical Design found before the solar planets creation and motion and the planets and their distances data be created based on this one geometrical design – and that caused – the planets data to be created based on exact equations and mathematical calculations – based on that – the planets data can be concluded theoretically without observation

 -         I prove that and provide 4 equations by which we can conclude all planets data theoretically without observation. (3 equations are mine and 1 equation depends on Kepler law)

-         The paper basic point is that

-         One Geometrical Design Be Found Before The Solar System Creation  

-         This fact refutes 3 theories (the big bang theory, Newton and Einstein theories)

 -         One Geometrical Design be found before the solar system creation because,

-         The solar group is similar to a machine of gears and each planet be one gear in it – or the solar group be similar to one building and each planet is a story in this same building – by that – the solar planets move one unified motion as a machine of gears move a unified motion spite the gears use different velocities.  

 -         The One Geometrical Design is the paper objective – and the paper proves it by providing the 4 equations by which the planets data can be concluded theatrically – means- We conclude theoretically without observation all planets orbital distances, periods, velocities, inclinations, rotation periods, diameters, masses and axial tilts – all data be concluded theoretically because this data be created based on exact equations and mathematical cal cautions because the solar system creation depends on One Geometrical Design  

-         No planet data be created by any random process, historical unknown factors or initial conditions – these ideas are wrong – the paper proves that clearly -

 -         The paper searched after this one geometrical design origin and found that-

 -         The solar planets and their distances energy be provided by one light beam and by that this energy created one geometrical design based on which all planets and distances data be created – the paper proves this fact and explains the following…

 -         The matter is created out of light but the matter doesn't separate from its parent light beam but they move together one unified motion by using different rates of time – that because – one force creates the planet and causes its motion – by that the motion be a part of the creation process- as a result – the solar planets be similar to ships sail over sea – where here the sea refers to the light motions network-

 -         Because the energy be provided by one light beam – one geometrical design be created and based on this one design the planets and their distance be created.    

-         And

-         The light energy be registered in the planets and distances data – by that- the planets data refer to the light beam which is their source of energy

-         The solar system data shows that a light beam its velocity 1.16 million km per second be the source of energy which be used to create the solar system

-         The sun rays be created by the planets motions energies total (by using different rate of time) and not by any nuclear interactions found inside the sun

 -         The paper proves this facts by different powerful arguments.

 -         Paper hypothesis

-         The solar planets and their distances be created of energy be provided by one light beam its velocity 1.16 million km per second.

 -         Notice

-         The Solar System One Geometrical Design be discussed in details in 2 points which are (Point no. 3-9) and Point no. (5) of this current paper

Kind Regards

Please read my paper

No Planet Moves By The Sun Mass Gravity

 https://www.academia.edu/s/11d48fb83e

 https://www.academia.edu/77403466/No_Planet_Moves_By_The_Sun_Mass_Gravity

 https://app.box.com/s/kz6u5w2b2hlgo66lnvt3j44l6soz88fw

 https://app.box.com/s/11u9k2tit2vdb3477xojbk398phkykb0

 Gerges Francis Tawdrous +201022532292

Physics Department- Physics & Mathematics Faculty  

Peoples' Friendship university of Russia – Moscow   (a former student 2010-2013)

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[so-i-grudgingly-joined-this-site]

Well, I guess I just have to vent here because it's stuck in my head.

As I mentioned in the tags of the initial post, the movie is Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron (2002), an obscure Dreamworks animated horse movie about how colonialism is bad. (I'm not kidding, it's shockingly anti-colonialist for an animated children's movie from a major studio. The villain is literally the US military and industrial expansion.)

I vividly remember a shocking--for kid-me at least--scene where a horse dies (or at least collapses) from exhaustion onscreen while being forced to pull a locomotive up a mountain. The railroad men unhook the dead horse's harness and drag the unresponsive animal away. This gives the protagonist horse, Spirit, the idea to play dead in order to trick the humans into unbuckling his harness, therefore letting him escape. Reddit threads going back years attest that those of us who saw the film in 2002 agree that you see the other horse die/collapse and that's where Spirit gets his escape plan.

Lo and behold, upon rewatching the film, while the horses pulling the locomotive scene is there, and Spirit playing dead to escape is still there, you don't see the other horse die or collapse onscreen. It's still a dark scene for a "kid's movie", but no overt death, and Spirit's idea to play dead apparently comes out of nowhere.

My first thought was that it was a "censored for streaming" sort of deal like the Lilo and Stitch "hiding in the dryer" scene, but finding my original DVD proved the scene in Spirit was NOT altered for streaming.

Every copy of the film that people can post online as proof--VHS, DVD, Blu-Ray, Streaming, pirated posts of all of the above versions--show the scene as it appears today, with no collapsing horse and Spirit getting the idea out of nowhere. The "Does the dog die" website lists no horse deaths in the film.

My best theory is that the dead horse WAS in the theatrical version, but parental complaints led to the censorship for even the earliest VHS prints. We KNOW that films can be changed between theatrical and home releases--look up all the changes that happened with the latest Spider-verse film! And I could see how an onscreen animal death during a dark/intense scene would be shocking enough to young viewers where they'd remember it even from just theatrical viewing. Unlike Spider-verse, however, this is an obscure film from 2002. There's just not going to be the documentation available to prove any differences between a theatrical and home release. Unless somehow somebody has a theatrical print from 2002 laying around, or miraculously thought to screen-record-pirate a kid's horse movie during the theater run, we're just never going to have answers.

What I wanted to do tonight: nostalgic childhood movie rewatch

What happened: rabbit hole where it turns out I and many others my age remember a scene that apparently was censored for re-release, but there's no concrete evidence the original exists. Younger fans online accuse us of pranking them. Unfortunately the movie is obscure enough that there probably will never be answers :(

[brokehorrorfan]

Underworld: 5-Movie Collection will be released on 4K Ultra HD (with Blu-ray and Digital) on October 5 via via Sony Pictures. It features all five films in the franchise, including both the theatrical and extended cuts of the first movie.

2003's Underworld and 2006's Underworld: Evolution are directed by Len Wiseman (Live Free or Die Hard). 2009's Underworld: Rise of the Lycans is directed by Patrick Tatopoulos. 2012's Underworld: Awakening is directed by Måns Mårlind & Björn Stein (6 Souls). 2017's Underworld: Blood Wars is directed by Anna Foerster.

Kate Beckinsale stars with Bill Nighy, Michael Sheen, Shane Brolly, Scott Speedman, Sophia Myles, Kevin Grevioux, Zita Görög, Scott McElroy, Erwin Leder, Steven Mackintosh, Theo James, Charles Dance, and India Eisley.

The box set is packaged in a slipcase. Special features are listed below.

Underworld 4K UHD:

Theatrical & extended versions of the film (4K HDR and Dolby Atmos)

Alternate flashbacks (4K HDR)

Theatrical trailer

Underworld Blu-ray:

Extended version of the film

Audio commentary by director Len Wiseman and cast

Fang vs. Fiction documentary

Making of Underworld featurette

Visual Effects of Underworld

Creature Effects featurette

Stunts featurette

Designing Underworld featurette

The Look of Underworld featurette

Sights & Sounds featurette

7 featurettes

Outtakes

Storyboard comparisons

"Worms of the Earth" by Finch music video

Selene, a vampire warrior, is entrenched in a conflict between vampires and werewolves, while falling in love with Michael, a human who is sought by werewolves for unknown reasons.

Underworld: Evolution 4K UHD:

Theatrical trailer

Underworld: Evolution Blu-ray:

Audio commentary by director Len Wiseman and crew

The Hybrid Theory featurette

The War Rages On featurette

Bloodlines: From Script to Screen featurette

Making Monsters Roar featurette

Building a Saga featurette

Music and Mayhem featurette

"Her Portrait in Black" by Atreyu music video

Vampire warrior Selene and the half werewolf Michael hunt for clues to reveal the history of their races and the war between them.

Underworld: Rise of the Lycans 4K UHD:

Rise of the Lycans: Inside the Castle Walls featurette

Theatrical trailers

Underworld: Rise of the Lycans Blu-ray:

Audio commentary by director Patrick Tatopoulos and crew

Behind the Castle Walls: Picture-in-Picture Experience

The Origin of the Feud featurette

Re-creating the Dark Ages featurette

From Script to Screen featurette

"Deathclub (Remix)" by William Control feat. Matt Skiba featurette

And more

An origin story centered on the centuries-old feud between the race of aristocratic vampires and their onetime slaves, the Lycans.

Underworld: Awakening 4K UHD:

Underworld: Endless War 3-part animated series (with stereo DTS-HD MA English audio)

Theatrical trailers

Underworld: Awakening Blu-ray:

Audio commentary by directors Directors Måns Mårlind & Björn Stein and crew

Cracking the Underworld: Picture-in-Picture Experience

Selene Rises featurette

Casting the Future of Underworld featurette

Resuming the Action featurette

Building a Better Lycan featurette

Blooper Reel

And more

When human forces discover the existence of the Vampire and Lycan clans, a war to eradicate both species commences. The vampire warrior Selene leads the battle against humankind.

Underworld: Blood Wars 4K UHD:

Franchise recap

Theatrical trailers

Underworld: Blood Wars Blu-ray:

Underworld: Blood Wars – The Official Movie Graphic Novel

The Evolution of Selene featurette

Building a Blood War featurette

Old & New Blood featurette

The Evil Evolved featurette

Vampire death dealer Selene fights to end the eternal war between the Lycan clan and the Vampire faction that betrayed her.

Pre-order Underworld: 5-Movie Collection from Amazon.

[land-of-classpects-and-analysis]

Mage of Light

Well, now. Isn’t this quite an interesting situation? A Mage of Light giving the analysis, the story, the tale of their struggles and triumphs, of the Mage of Light? Granted, this was inevitable, much like how this will happen again with the Sylph of Life analysis. However, this one has come far quicker than the other one, and so it begs the question as to whether this will be a callout post about the socially anxious host themself, or if it will be another general look at the Classpect known as the Mage of Light? In a way, it will be a little bit of both, as bias and anecdotal scenarios will be an obvious thing that may pop up throughout this analysis. Whether it relates to the narrator of this piece, or to the general population of Mages of Light, will be up to your own imagination. Now, let’s end the theatrics and get ready to gaze into the scarring heat that us Mages of Light are known to look upon for guidance, reassurance, and, of course, the answers to all the questions we have.

It has always been rather fitting for the Aspect symbol for Light to be that of the Sun, at least personally speaking. From a very young age, we are advised to never look directly at the Sun, as its rays are bright and its light a burning hot. This is a good piece of advice for the literal Sun that the planet rotates around, but what about the more symbolic or metaphysical Sun? What about the children who are told to not look too deeply into the symbolism, the meaning, the message hidden behind the letters so elegantly carved into a book? After all, children are naturally curious and are capable of absorbing so much knowledge and rarely, if ever, seem to be satisfied with what they have. Many people talk about their own “phases” where they were fully dedicated to learning as much as they could about something. Pirates, Ancient Egypt, Dragons, Folklore, the Medieval Era, and so many more things. For the most part, parents do often encourage this curiosity that so naturally comes with being a child. Except, for some parents, it is a more conditional encouragement. Telling a child they may not know what or where their Christmas or Birthday presents are is a normal restriction upon a child’s knowledge. That is now what is being alluded to here. No, this is about the parents who blind their children from knowledge that may cause the child to be smarter and more tolerant than their parent, or have their child be more aware of the more horrific and taboo things in this world - the privileges that they may have. Little do their parent’s know how strong the curiosity of a child can be.

As a child, the Mage of Light would at least somewhat be, if not most definitely exactly, like this. While children are naturally curious, the young Mage of Light is someone who is constantly asking the questions, always trying to understand, never being satisfied with the answers they are given, and despising when someone - especially adults - hide things from them. Light-bound at their worst are known to be rather fussy, and if anyone is to perfectly encapsulate such a feeling, it would be a young Mage of Light being told they are forbidden from seeking out the knowledge and answers to a burning question of theirs. Tantrums and overall meltdowns are most definitely a mark of a younger Mage of Light, while later on in the Mage’s life, this contempt for being kept in the dark would show itself more as outright rebellion and sometimes even aggression, physical or otherwise. Much like the Mage of Void, the Mage of Light would be one who will grow into a person that will stop at nothing until they get the answers they want. Out of all the Mages, the Mage of Light is one who is more than ready to bash their head against a wall - metaphorically or otherwise - over and over, especially if it means they will finally come to answer or epiphany. They are born with the never-ending, forever-gnawing hunger to know and learn, and if no one will teach them properly, then they will happily teach themself.

Due to this way of life, it could be argued that the Mage of Light is one where their journey to knowledge and understanding begins as soon as they are born. However, that is only partially correct. While the Mage of Light is indeed someone who, in their early life, believes themself to be stranded in a vast ocean of knowledge - a Mage of Light’s true dream, really. However, what is important to keep in mind is what was mentioned earlier: that those now older, typically adults, will often look back at their learning “phases”, wherein they dedicated themself to only one or few topics of knowledge. Don’t think or believe for a moment that school is a place where their journey begins. Goodness, no. If anything, school is where the suffering of the Mage of Light begins - especially those who have their journey follow the path of seeking out knowledge of knowledge. However, that is for later on this analysis.

The Mage of Light, after leaving childhood, may know quite a lot about the (literal) ocean and the life within it, perhaps they know the entire history of all the wonderful European Folktales meant to startle children, or they dedicated themself to learn how to knit, cross-stitch, and sew, as well as the history of it. It’s hard to tell exactly when their journey does truly begin, as it can vary from Mage of Light to Mage of Light. One thing is most certain, though, when it comes to a common thread seen throughout all Mages of Light: their Aspect has not only revealed itself in its most purest form to the Mage, leaving them scarred from the encounter, but it has left something in the Mage of Light waiting to be awakened. That something is the hunger for more knowledge than what they already have. You see, what the Mage has been truly missing is the true mass, the entire volume, in which Light envelopes the world around them. After all, Light-bound are meant to be those who seek out knowledge of anything - even if it is something that would have been better left unlearned. As the Mage of Light enters a moment in their life where their parents cannot protect the Mage as much as they wish they could, and it is now up to them to make the decision of whether they seek out knowledge of something or not. Later on in the Mage of Light’s life, they will truly have to face the plasma heat of the Sun, and will finally realize why it is unwise to dance atop fresh ashes and burning coals.

Much like the Seer of Light, though, the Mage of Light poses another intriguing puzzle with their Classpect. The Mage of Light is one who actively seeks out knowledge of or through Light, there is no doubt there. What is interesting is that this basically boils down to someone seeking out knowledge of or through Knowledge, enlightenment, academics, and more. It seems like an almost obvious thing, and perhaps even redundant to say such a long-winded statement of “one who actively seeks out knowledge of or through knowledge”. While the latter half claiming it is rather redundant to say that makes a good point, it is also a rather brilliant and key difference to make between the two groups of Mages of Light. There are the Mages of Light who actively seek out knowledge through Light, wherein they have a journey far more like that of a chain, or like a spelunker who always manages to find holes, crevices, and cliffs that allow for them to go deeper and deeper into the Earth. While the knowledge they learned as a child may not be too helpful for a more “real” life, this curious passion and research may cause a spark to appear somewhere off in Mage of Light’s, close or otherwise.

Have you ever discovered a topic that has sent off the wonderful, serotonin-filled surges through your brain? No matter how obscure or mainstream it is, the brain - your brain - has processed that information enough to latch onto it like that of a long lost friend, relative, or lover. “More,” your brain tells you, “I want- no. I need more of this. More. More. More.” It’s a droning sound in your head, that four letter word being repeated over and over until, finally, you give in and seek out more knowledge of this topic. All there is to be found on it: every Wikipedia article, every theory, every documentary, every book, all of it, if only to keep your head quiet- but wait. What was that sentence you just read? It mentions something - or someone - that you do not know about nor ever heard of. Context is suddenly lost on you and you can feel as your brain begins to toss and turn within your skull like it is a coffin of calcium. Most people would shrug it off and continue reading, writing, research - but not you. No. You are a Mage of Light who has gone down the path of seeking out knowledge through Light - a chain forged from the brightest and hottest flame, and you are the blacksmith creating it. It never, ever seems to end, though, as every piece of information you take, every link you click on, everything leads down further and further down these rabbit holes. Until, eventually, you will discover that not only do you not know how to go back, that you are completely lost, but that all of these rabbit holes are connected and all lead to the same, fiery den. By the time you realize this, though, chances are that it will be too late to go back as you will find yourself in the chamber of the Sun, and it is simply too painfully beautiful to look away from. So you don’t. Even if you feel your eyes tearing up at how brightly it truly burns. You dare not look away, though, for you know deep down that this, this, is the most purest knowledge you could have ever discovered through Light and countless, sleepless nights. It is so gorgeous that you swear you might even go mad and lose yourself within its beauty.

Then there are the Mages of Light who simply seek out knowledge of Light. Chances are this is the one that brings most people to start scratching their heads. After all, isn’t this simply seeking out knowledge, point blank? Isn’t it? Wouldn’t it be great if it was just that easy? No, unfortunately this is the path in which the Mage of Light becomes knowledgeable of the fact that knowledge is all around them, not just in the form of objects, but also from the people around them. Most importantly, though, they will realize that a lot of this knowledge is painfully biased, disgustingly muddled in a game of telephone, and that a lot of it is just plain wrong. They are the ones who, unfortunately, will often know the facts and correct answers to a wide variety of topics. Whether it is something as obscure as the history and lore of bigfoot sightings, or as well known as World War 2 and all the intricacies within it, the Mage of Light is one who has already sought the knowledge of these things. However, due to the nature of so many Mages, they are often rather reluctant to open up and share their knowledge with others - especially in regards to the people they do not like. Mages can be rather petty, indeed, and are not afraid to taunt their enemies about the knowledge they have, waving it in front of the disliked person’s face like that of a carrot to a goat. Sometimes, the Mage of Light won’t even reveal that they have the answers to some people’s question, and instead leave them to continue spouting false truths. If the Mage of Light is especially vicious, they will inform everyone who not only knows their enemy but that the Mage trusts greatly, about the real knowledge and facts of whatever story their enemy is speaking. Oftentimes this is only for the Mages amusement of knowing that they and everyone they trust is in the know of what is true, while watching those they hate continue to fumble around in the dark - lost, confused, yet infuriatingly cocky that they know where they are going.

The main suffering of these Mages of Light is that of being so knowledgeable on so many different things, yet so few people ever bother to listen or take the Mage at face value. It’s the suffering of having the weight of hundreds of textbooks, papers, recordings, files, and so many other forms of knowledge all pressing down on one’s mind. It’s the suffering of knowing how many ignorant and unaware people there are roaming the world, sometimes even within the Mage’s own life and inner circle. They actively seek out knowledge of not just simple knowledge, but rather what other people view as their own knowledge. If the Mage is lucky, then someone or something will give them valuable knowledge to hold onto and maintain - adding it to their large, mental library that they have built over the years. However, as is more often the case than not, the Mage will encounter someone who holds knowledge so wrong and tainted that it often can drag the Mage down from whatever happy mood they may have been feeling. Depending on how truly bad this tainted knowledge is, the Mage of Light will do whatever it takes to try and set the facts straight and prove to the other person or party that they are wrong. Whether this comes in the form of polite corrections or downright red-faced yelling and screaming at the person - or, if pushed hard enough, physically aggressive constructive criticism - or somewhere in between, it would be best to be careful to spout off any false ideas labeled as facts and truths when around the Mage of Light, especially if they do not appear to be in a good mood. After all, they are someone who has a large umbrella of knowledge, and it is one they are not afraid to bludgeon proper knowledge into an ignorant person’s skull.

The Mage of Light is someone who can be seen as an unremarkable genius - unrelenting in their pursuit of knowledge and understanding. Even if such determination may be viewed in an unflattering light, the Mage of Light may not exactly care, as everything they do is for the sake of learning all that is available to them, as well as understanding the world they live in and the people that reside within it. Chances are, though, that being in the presence of the Mage of Light is quite a rare occurrence. This is mostly because Mages of Light are some of the most dedicated of all the Light-bounds when it comes to their Aspect. They are willing to throw themself into the molten, searing rays of the Sun - of knowledge - for many reasons. Ranging from getting to know all there is to know about one of their favorite people, characters, shows, or other interests, to simply wanting to see, know, and/or understand what it is like to experience a certain situation that has always intrigued them. Because of this, while the Mage of Light is a dedicated student, they are also someone who often ignores their own health and wellbeing for the sake of more knowledge. If they are not careful, then this can lead to not only mental suffering for the Mage, but also physical and social suffering, as well. Those who have managed to befriend a Mage of Light may be all too familiar at the sight of seeing their message having been left on read, or sometimes having never even been opened at all. Once the Mage of Light finds themself truly enveloped in the webbing of a particular interest or topic, it may be quite a long time before anyone sees or hears from the Mage of Light again. Because of this, those within the Mage’s social circle may need to take on the extra task of checking in and meddling with the Mage of Light’s business. 

While Mages so often attract people of similar minds towards them, this may bring great displeasure to the Mage of Light at many points in their life. They hate rereading the same book over and over, after all, and so if they sense one person or the overall relationship to be all too similar to a previous one, then chances are they will often pay little mind to these people and instead continue on their work. If no one has any knowledge to offer the Mage, then they will simply not bother with this person. However, deep down, the Mage of Light would love to have a few companions in their life, if only to share with them all of the discoveries they have made and have someone listen as they rant, ramble, and rave on about all they have learned, as well as all the ignorant people they have had to unfortunately encounter. The Mage of Light is like that of a pendulum, constantly swinging from one side to another, causing people to never exactly knowing what to expect when it comes to speaking with the Mage of Light. One thing is for certain, though, and it is that when the Mage of Light is caught in a good mood, they can be one of the kindest, most non-judgemental, and warmest people to be around. If they are feeling especially kind, then they can also be someone who shares their great amounts of knowledge and wisdom onto those they truly care about and trust. 

Mages of Light are those who should rarely, if ever, be questioned on whether they truly know what they are talking about. Much like their Passive counterpart, the Mage of Light is one where, after gaining great strides in their journey, they can become a borderline all-knowing entity if they so desired. They go after knowledge wherever they can sniff and claw it out, and as such is someone who poses themself to be the most valuable ally and friend to have, as well as being the most dangerous and largest foe one could make. There would be no point in fighting a fully awakened Mage of Light - at least not physically. They already know every possible move you could make, and they are well prepared and knowledgeable on how to counteract it. Amongst their other powers is that of seeing all there is to know in the present and the future, but rarely ever the past. If it is not transcribed in some fashion, then the past is one of the biggest weak points for the Mage of Light, as it is something that has already come to pass and therefore becomes an unreliable source of knowledge. There will always be blindspots, even to the most powerful Mage of Light, and it is these blindspots that bring all Mages of Light great suffering and anger. These blindspots are more often than not that of the Void-bound - people who manage to find ways to flicker out and hide away from the harsh rays of the Sun. Many Mages of Light find these people to be perplexing, and sometimes downright infuriating, in more ways than one. When the Mage of Light finds that they cannot gain knowledge from something, they may be quick to deem it as worthless or unreliable, and in the case of people, might see them as possible threats and adversaries.

There are some Mages of Light who may try to escape and run away from their Aspect, finding themselves incapable of withstanding all of this knowledge. It will be with great fear in their hearts when they find that there is no escaping something as grand as Light, The Sun, and knowledge. It is everywhere we go, and once someone has opened their eyes and truly looked upon its burning answers, it is something that cannot be so easily ignored. If the Mage of Light is going to expose themself to a source of knowledge, they will be damned if they are not going to try their very best to understand its intricacies. Even if trying over and over again brings them even more suffering, it is better than to suffer in silence as their brain claws at the inside of their skull and the yearnful hunger gnaws away at them from the inside. The Mage of Light is driven to know all there is, was, and will be, and whether they are willing to play dirty or not simply depends on who the Mage of Light truly is. Mages of Light are truly some of the most brilliant people, but it is truly up to them whether they decide to use their knowledge for good, and share it with others, or if they decide to be cruel, and use it to twist the arms of people and bend the rules of whatever game they have been placed within. No matter what, though, Mages of Light are the ones who dared to look at the Sun when very few others could. Not only did they stare at it, but they challenged it to that of a staring contest, and instead of losing the game and their eyesight, these Mages instead rose above everyone else and were gifted with the greatest weapon anyone could ask for, and one only they can truly understand how to wield properly: Knowledge.

[see-arcane]

The Eye, the Story, and the Tape Recorders

The running theory is that the tape recorders are an extension of Jon as much as the Eye. I’d agree, except for two points:

1. Jon doesn’t appear to have any control over where they show up, or who they appear for. If they are somehow tied to his Archivist powers, it’s an entirely unconscious manifestation. At most, the persona of the Archivist—the morbid, entranced version of Jon we hear recording the statements—may be responsible. But I think that’s a stretch, because, as we hear in MAG 170…

2. Jon had no clue where Martin was. How could he just will a recorder to find him when Jon himself couldn’t? Or even will it to turn on?

This leads us to the more obvious conclusion, that the Eye has been supplying the recorders the whole time. Either by channeling them through Jon, or by just Looking in the right spot and making them happen, it’s always been the Eye.

The question is why. Why now, when the Eye has won and can See all anyway? Perhaps for the same reason Jon uses them to purge his absorbed stories from the Fear domains.

Habit. Pure, engaged habit.

And, in this case, to help one of the characters from its favorite show—The Terrible Life of Jonathan Sims—get back to the Archivist’s side. Audience interaction, you know.

Because we’ve all caught onto that running theme for The Magnus Archives, haven’t we? We are the Eye. We want to bear witness to the drama of these people’s lives. Much as this is meant as a stealth-criticism of human nature, our desire to soak up others’ theatrical highs and lows, I think it may be a ray of hope for what the Eye’s deal is.

Yes, it is Terrible Knowledge. Yes, it is a voyeur of horrific goings-on. But of what else?

Jonathan Sims and his cast of supporting characters. Not just the perils, the deaths, the terror, the misery, the melancholy, though there’s plenty of all that to go around. Think about it. How many of the recordings—be it from Jon’s original recorders or the ones provided directly by the Eye—have been about personal scenes versus the eerie, climactic spectacles?

If the Eye was only here for the fear, why would it bother planting recorders in time to catch all the mundane fluff in-between? Why eavesdrop on Jon and Basira talking about Melanie’s recovery from the Slaughter? Why did it pop in to hear Jon talk about how he doesn’t get poetry, and how he finds carousels thrilling? Why listen in on that chat about jealousy between him and Martin at Terminus’ edge? Even if something Evilly Interesting were coming around the corner, couldn’t it just as easily have waited a minute and then snuck a recorder in?

Of course it could have. And it listened in anyway.

If we must be covertly chastised for ‘being the Eye,’ then the Eye must be pointed out as, ‘being the audience.’ And no audience, however cruel, can be entertained by wall-to-wall monsters being monstrous. It’s boring if it’s just people screaming the whole time. Who cares?

Not us. Not the Eye. There’s no investment, otherwise. No thrills, no engagement. Just meat in an eldritch blender.

Which brings us back to Martin and the recorder in the Lonely. Was it the same recorder Martin took away from the Slaughter’s trench? A new one? It doesn’t matter. What matters is, the Eye is the one that switched it on. That started nudging Martin towards memory of a not-Terrible Truth. Because the Lonely could only reclaim him if Martin forgot the reality of himself and his love. But the Eye helped him remember.

Still, Martin says it himself: “You feel…not friendly. Familiar?”

Not friendly, no. But familiar, because the Eye was and is always there, so long as Jon and his main cast are involved.

Because, the Eye-that-is-the-Audience does not just want mindless terror. Even with the entire world performing inhuman horrors for its entertainment, the Eye is putting the whole of it on the back burner, just like us, so it can focus on what really matters.

Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood’s post-apocalyptic romantic drama.

And that points to a very interesting reaction from the Ceaseless Watcher if and when other parties—be it Jonalias Bouchnus or the Web—try and put an end to its favorite show.

tl; dr:

The Eye  🤝 The TMA Audience

      Drama > Horror

[honeyandhondewberries]

hi!! can you do an overworked!raihan x leon cuddling in a hammock?

Ooh! Interesting for Raihan to be the overworked one, yes!! What a cute idea 🥰  This is set when they’re obv crushin’, but no Official Moves have been made. Enjoy!!

~~

Hugs & Hammocks & Shuckle Conspiracies (LeonxRaihan)

After a yawn, a stretch, and a discreet butt scratch – er, lower back scratch – Raihan sauntered through the sliding glass doors of Rose Tower. How many yawns were too many to make it unhealthy? Was there even a limit? Maybe he shouldn’t have stayed up all night finishing his training schedule. He probably could have reviewed his and Leon’s match at least, then maybe he could be napping right now instead of meeting with Galar’s darling Champion to watch himself lose on the big screen of the conference room.

"Hey," Raihan told the secretary. "I've got a meeting with Leon."

"Champion Leon," she corrected with a smile. "And I'll let him know you're here."

Raihan barely offered her a nod in response and leaned against the counter. He tried to be in Rose Tower as little as possible. It was so sterile, almost an insult to the roses that bloomed beneath the floor. They were probably fake, anyway.

"He's waiting for you in Wyndon Park, Mr. Raihan," the secretary said.

"What?" Raihan asked. He tried to cover his sneer, though his exhaustion left little ability for such disguises. "We're not meeting here?"

"No Mr. Raihan," the secretary said, still with that plastic smile. "His assistant says you're to meet him at Wyndon Park."

"That's halfway across town," Raihan muttered. Good thing he came all the way here just to retrace his steps through Wyndon. "Thanks for letting me know."

"It's my pleasure, Mr. Raihan," the secretary said. "I suggest hailing a cab, so you don't keep Champion Leon waiting even longer."

"Thanks for the tip," Raihan muttered as he turned back towards the doors. "Wouldn't want to insult him with my tardiness."

"Thank you for understanding, Mr. Raihan."

Raihan didn't respond and tried to keep his steps light as he left through the sliding glass doors. As soon as he was far enough from the building, he let out a groan, then a sigh, and his feet dragged along the white concrete. Taking the monorail again would be double the expense, and apparently that secretary couldn't be bothered to hail a cab for him. Guess Leon will have to deal with his insulting tardiness, since he wasn’t about to fork out the extra cash for a fancy lift.

Raihan flopped into the monorail seat and bit back a yawn. The city of Wyndon flickered outside the window, though the colors were fuzzy from how fast they were moving, and even more so from how Raihan's eyes kept closing. He tried playing on his phone, but his eyes kept blurring and the light burned the back of his eyes.

He reached his stop, paid the fair with gritted teeth, and began his trek through downtown. How were they supposed to critique their match if they were in a park? Did they reserve the amphitheater for a showing, or something? Or was this meeting some cover up and Leon wasn't even going to be there? He decided if Leon wasn't at the park, he was just going to move onto the next thing in his schedule. He'd rather get an earful from Rose than continue this demeaning goose chase.

He offered a few waves, a few smiles, and a few pictures to fans as he walked through downtown. Hopefully the bags under his eyes weren't too prominent, or at least disguised from a photo filter or something. After walking long enough for late midday to shift to evening, Raihan finally reached the park. He pulled out his phone and shot a text to Leon.

Thanks for letting me know about the location change. I'm at the park, where are you?

A response came immediately.

Sorry! I told the secretary to tell you, guess she forgot. I'm at the top of the hill between the 2 trees

Raihan didn't bother responding and tucked his phone back into his pocket. Top of the hill? Did they set up a screen or something?

The fresh air of the park was nice, but it took so long to get there that Raihan sent a guilty text to Nessa telling her they may need to reschedule their training session. He said that the darling Champion couldn't be rescheduled with, and she said she understood. A few kids were throwing a frisbee with their Yampers, and Raihan let a smile slip. This place was much nicer than the stagnant air of Rose Tower, at least.

"Raihan, over here!"

Raihan turned to see a hammock hanging between two tall trees at the top of the hill. It had the League insignia plastered on it, and a plume of purple hair hanging from it. 

A… hammock…? How the hell were they supposed to watch a match in a hammock? Was Leon expecting them to canoodle and watch the sunset together instead?

Leon's face poked up from beneath the side, and immediately Raihan had to swallow that twang of excitement to see him. What a doofus, hiding in a hammock at the top of a hill in the most populated park in Wyndon. How did he manage to not get bombarded by fans?

"Sorry again," Leon said as Raihan reached the top of the hill. "I thought you knew to meet here."

"Well, I didn't," Raihan sighed. He glanced around. "So, what, you want me to stand the whole time? Sit on the ground? Are we still going to watch our match?"

"Yeah," Leon said as he patted the spot beside him. "Hop in."

Hop… in…? To… the hammock…?

"What…?" Raihan asked.

"I thought out here could be nicer than the Tower,” Leon said guiltily. “Not so many other people watching us, either. I've got the match pulled up on my phone."

"I've… I've never sat in a hammock before," Raihan said as he scanned the equipment. "How do I…?"

"Just slide in," Leon said with that doofy smile. “Easy.”

“Easy...” Raihan repeated. “Right.” 

He turned, backed up a few inches, then haphazardly flopped into the hammock. Its dip was more than he was expecting, and Raihan tumbled straight into Leon’s lap. He lifted himself up, only to slide back where he started.

“Shit, is this supposed to happen?” Raihan grumbled as he tried to scooch off of the Champion’s firm thighs. His cheeks were flaring red as red a Charizard’s tail - probably just as hot, too. He pulled his hoodie collar up higher to hide it.

“Eh, don’t worry about it,” Leon said. “Okay so I already skipped the introduction and whatever and got to the part where you bring out Flygon.”

Leon continued explaining his perception of their battle, but Raihan’s focus was latched to the fact that he was still mushed up against Leon’s side. He wasn’t sure what would be worse: sitting with one leg over Leon’s, or risking moving again and ending up on top of him. Was he moving too much? Would Leon notice? He was still babbling about Flygon and Dragapult, apparently not fixated on how Raihan had no idea how to sit in this rubbish piece of fabric.

“Arceus how are you supposed to sit in this,” Raihan muttered as he tried to scooch away again. “I keep sliding on top of you.”

“That’s okay,” Leon said again. “That happens sometimes. Just sit like this.”

Leon pushed Raihan down by his shoulder, slid his leg beneath and between Raihan’s, and pulled Raihan’s head so he was resting on his chest. Leon hooked his arm behind Raihan’s head, rested his head on his fist, and held his phone out with the other.

“Can you still see the screen?” Leon asked.

Raihan blinked a few times.

“Um,” he muttered as he processed their arrangement. “Yeah I can see it.”

“Great,” Leon continued. “Okay anyway, so when you beat Dragapult I was kind of surprised you didn’t switch up the weather again, you haven’t been doing that as much lately and I think that would be a good theatrical element like Rose was talking about, the fans really like it when you do that, makes the battlefield more dynamic, too.”

After Leon babbled for a bit longer, and after Raihan slowly eased into leaning against Leon’s chest, Raihan offered some insight to their battle as well. Before long they were offering suggestions, offering scathing rebuttals, and plenty of teases, too. The first time Leon laughed and Raihan felt it rumbling in his chest, he may have tried a few more times to get that feeling again.

They watched their battle a few times, then other Gym Leader’s battles a few times, then some suggested videos on the sidebar, until they were eventually watching conspiracy theories on what’s really inside a Shuckle.

“It’s berry juice!” Leon snorted. “People drink it!”

“Wrong,” Raihan said. “You’re wrong. It’s gotta be like, a black hole or a lot of spit or something. Maybe even reproductive juices-“

“Ugh, ew, stop,” Leon grunted, though that shiny smile was easily plastered on his face. Raihan couldn’t see it because of how they were sitting, but he certainly felt it bump against his head whenever Leon shifted their position.

Leon started telling a story about how him and Hop found a Shuckle once, and Raihan bit back his own smile at the enthusiasm that was rumbling through Leon. He was gesturing with his hands, even his foot, and little pangs of something warm started pulling in Raihan’s stomach. Leon was such a doofus.

Although their conversation skills were evenly matched, Raihan found himself pausing longer and longer between sentences in favor of listening to Leon’s voice. The sun was beginning to set, and the bold oranges and pinks shone over Wyndon, speckling color over the bustling city. He had to admit, he also enjoyed this spot a bit more than Rose Tower.

Raihan’s eyes closed longer each time he blinked, too, until they fluttered open when Leon gently nudged his shoulder.

“You okay?” Leon asked, and Raihan jolted into focus.

“Hm? What?” Raihan mumbled. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

"You're overworking yourself, Rai," Leon whispered gently. "You should take a little nap."

"What?" Raihan mumbled in return, though it was getting challenging to keep his eyes open. He couldn't stop the yawn from escaping, either. "Maybe, I guess. We should watch our match one more time though, then I have to train with Nessa, then I've got to work with the new Trainers at the Gym, then I’ve… I’ve…"

His sentence slipped into a mumble, then into another yawn. The soothing rocking of the hammock was slowly luring him into sleep. He tried to sit up, but didn't try very hard to resist when Leon pulled him back down.

"How about you just close your eyes for a couple seconds," Leon whispered. His voice was a soothing rumble against Raihan's ear. "Then you can get up and do your stuff."

"Well, maybe a few seconds wouldn't hurt," Raihan mumbled in return. He folded his arms and slumped backwards again, though the side of the hammock was doing a good job of adding to that crick in his neck. “Just for a bit.”

“That position looks like it hurts,” Leon said softly. “You should lay down.”

Raihan grumbled again, though didn’t stop Leon when he gently hooked his arm around his waist and pulled. Raihan easily collapsed into Leon’s chest, and again didn’t resist when he adjusted them lower and lower.

“Stretch out a bit,” Leon suggested, and Raihan sleepily obeyed. “See, not so bad, huh?”

“Hmm,” Raihan hummed as he easily faded in and out. Was this Leon’s chest or two perky pillows? “Just for a few seconds.”

“That’s a good idea,” Leon chuckled as he wriggled his leg out from under Raihan. He set it on the grass to gently rock them back and forth. “Just a little bit. It feels really nice out here, doesn’t it?”

“Mmhmm,” Raihan hummed again as the soft breeze combed through his hair, lightly scratched the top of his head. “Yeah that feels really nice.”

Gentle head scratches, a brush over his cheek, the white noise of the breeze and the birds chirping, the faint beat of Leon’s heart, the soothing rocking of the hammock; each was an ingredient that slowly lured Raihan further into an easy sleep. As he slipped in and out of consciousness, Raihan was glad they didn’t have this meeting in Rose Tower either.