#sort of on the same note he's from an ancient city (and also like. the past. dw about it) and iirc there isn't really any lore on ancient

[oarf1sh]

why do all of my good oc ideas have to be for my minecraft oc, get out of my head :/

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀 𝐅𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐢

↳ summary: another day with the turtles in which you get dragged behind and have your worst fear materialize in front of you. or; a reader insert of season two episode ten, fungus humongous

↳ warnings: unreality, body horror, mentions of gore, reader is a bitch, reader can't express their feelings, 2012 april (that's a warning in itself)

↳ notes: hinted at the reader having a thing for donnie, but it's left up to interpretation. could be read as platonic or for any other turtle/character. also i kind of hate this verson of april from the show, so apologies. i made the reader a bit passive aggressive to her when i could sneak it in there. could just be viewed at jealousy for donnie liking her. also, reader is gn and hinted at being autistic

↳ song: never—mag.lo & o super

next part! | masterlist! | commisions! | carrd

New York City was a strange place.

You'd learned that from a young age. Instead of watching a mother skip down the sidewalk with her chubby cheeked child in hand, you'd grown up around men with the same faces filing down side walks and inside of vans. Arms filled to the bring with glowing canisters and talking in the third person. Sometimes, in the place of cute stray cats or pigeons that you'd scramble off to feed bread to at the park, you'd see montserous shadows. Humans with the bodies of animals, making noises that would bring you to have nightmares for weeks to come.

Adults never believed you, writing it off as an imaginary friend, or simply the smoke in the air getting to you. And why should they belive anything else? It was as bizarre as it sounded, even to you.

Still, with all this weirdness, there were somethings you'd never get over. Like the fact those men that used to terrify you were actually robot powered aliens. Or that your best friends lived in the sewers, taught ancient ninjistu by their rat sensei.

But more importantly, you'd never get over how Casey Jones was absolutely demolishing this gyro right now.

With black and white facepaint smuged all over your friends cheeks and nose, you had the pleasure of sitting on the arm of a wooden street bench, watching with a blank expression as one of your two human friends tore into the street food, getting a bit of meat on April's shirt. Who by now had begun to regret sitting so close to him.

"You know Jones, I think this is the most disturbing thing I've seen all week." You grimaced. The hockey player had now moved onto licking the juice off his fingers, something you mimed violently vomiting at. April just rolled her eyes as she continued to listen to music.

"Ouch man!" Casey smirked as he pretended to be hurt by your words, crumbling up the left over paper from his meal and haphazardly tossing it on the ground below him.

"There's literally a trashcan right next to us." April sighed and looked up from her phone shaped like a turtles shell; or t-phone as you had come to know it. So generously gifted to her by the one and only Donatello.

You looked over to where she had gestured, holding one hand up to block the afternoons sun as it beat down upon you all. Sure enough, there was a rusty little bucket not far from the bench all of you had taken refuge on. Posters of all sorts of faded colors and advertisements were plastered on the cylinders sides. More lay fluttering in the hot wind on the pavement.

With a groan screaming of false annoyance, Casey stood up and meandered over to the litter, eventually tossing it with a swoosh into the basket.

"He shoots and he scores! Ten points for Jones." He pumped his fist in the air triumphantly, not caring that passerbys were now staring. Both you and April were subjected to an extremely bad victory dance as he celebrated.

"Now only if you could do that on the actual ice, Case." You grinned slyly. Casey frowned back at you, abruptly stopping his little celebration.

"I told you to stop calling me that. And whatever. Like you'd know the first thing about hockey." He said sourly. "Maybe if Red here gave me a good luck kiss before my games, I'd score more goals."

"And that's our cue to go." April stood up with a huff, pocketing her odd shaped phone. You stood up not far behind her, adjusting the strings on your hoodie. You knew April wasn't actually that upset by Casey's comment, in fact sometimes you thought she rather enjoyed the extra attention, but anything to stop his incessant flirting was a win for you.

"How about we head on down to the lair?" You suggested, noticing that the three of you were already making your way over to the nearest secluded manhole. "It has been a while since I've visited."

"Don't remind me." April smiled as she struggled to lift the solid peice of metal separating New York from its sewer sytem. "Mikey asks me where you are everytime I come down. He's even started pestering me for your address at this point."

"As much as I love the guys, I'm not sure my heart could take it if they started showing up on my fire escape every night. I don't need any more visits from Dr. Prankenstien than I already get." You snickered, following after Casey as he dropped down the ladder. He nodded along with your statement, holding his gloved hand out for a fistbump which you happily returned, albeit with a bit more force than necessary.

"Ooh, was that a challenge I just felt?" He grinned misheviously.

"Come on you guys." April scoffed, rolling her eyes at how both you and Casey punched each other in the arms and snickered.

"Just because you don't know how to have fun Red, doesn't mean we cant." Casey slung an arm around your shoulders with a toothy grin, yelping seconds later as you shoved him off of you with a frown.

"Right. Fun. That's exactly what I think of when I think Casey Jones April O'Neal and a stinky sewer." You parried.

"Hey! I thought you were on my side!" Casey frowned, jumping back up and rubbing the place you'd pushed him sorely. You stuck your tongue out at him and responded that he should know better than to touch you, then.

"Lay off guys." April chided you, missing the way your lips downturned at her words. "Besides. It's not like this place stinks that bad. You just have to get used to it."

You sniffed the air for a moment, immediately recoiling in disgust. Yeah. Definitely not.

"Sick dude."

"Actually," April halted in her speed walking to let the two of you catch up to her. As soon as you reached her side, you noticed the redhead was pinching her nose with a confused expression.

"Something does smell weird. Like— moldy cheese and puke."

You would've responded to her, probably with some sort of quipy comment, but the shrill sounds of a scream stopped you.

It didn't take long for the source of it to pass by you, what looked to be a sewer worker blubbering nonsense about a giant squirell. You were quickly reminded of a day a few months ago in which a mutated squirell clawed itself into your stoumach and reproduced. You shut down that memory with a shiver, jogging after an equally as panicked Casey and April to catch the stranger.

It only took a few turns around the place before all of you stood to a hault in a more open tunnel, no longer hearing the deep thump of the guys boots as he ran away from an unidentified source.

"Should we call out for him." You whispered, not really liking yourself for suggesting such a thing.

"Yeah. Go ahead Casey." April whispered right back, shoving the boy forward and shushing his protests. With a huff he started forward into the wet cavern.

"Hello? Crazy dude?" He sang. After looking around a tunnel opening for a few moments, Casey turned back to the two of you, gesturing harshly to follow him. You begrudgingly stepped forward, refusing to be at the end of the group where something could sneak up behind you. That privilege would have to be left to April.

"Somethings not right." She murmered. You turned to supply her with a sarcastic 'no, really?' but instead paused as she was sprayed in the face with a yellow substance. Blinking, you watched as she coughed in the powdery looking material. Another blink, and wherever it had came from was gone.

"April? You alright? What'd you see?" A hand was placed on her shoulder now. You felt the presence of Casey next to you now. Both of you were now watching as she began to shake, and you were staring to think that the scared worker might have actually seen something.

April's eyes opened suddenly, snapping to your face ferociously. You got one good look at her eyes, the whites of them tinged with yellow and red veins, before she let out the louded scream you'd ever heard. With a sudden speed you had no idea that she even had, April clawed at your hand wildly. You yelped, bringing it to your chest and scrambling back. Casey looked at you with wide eyes before turning back to April, catching the back of her just as she began to sprint away.

"April? April!!" He yelled, not making a move to chase after her. You did no such thing either, cradling your hand to your chest in shock. You didn't notice the little bit of blood trickling down from the moon shaped scratches. It stained your shirt, fading into a rust type color.

The two of you looked at each other in shock before speaking.

"What the fuck?"

Your lungs were screaming at you to stop by the time you'd reached the lair. You and Casey had both almost taken several breaks on your run along the abandoned railroad tracks, but once either of you got a look at your now less bloody hand— curtousy of a makeshift towel you called your shirt —the running would start again.

You thanked whatever god lied above for turnstiles as you flopped onto the cool metal of one, not even caring that Casey had to jump over both you and it to reach sight of the turtles. Who, from the sounds of it, we're watching a very loud episode of that old anime again.

"Oh hey guys. What's up?"

Before Casey could even open his mouth to respond to Raphael, a blur of orange and green was pouncing on you.

From his place sitting on your chest, Mikey yelled your name and smiled, clearly very happy to see you.

"Where have you been dude!" He laughed, getting off of you. Instead of allowing you to stand up or even explain yourself, he was suddenly grabbing you by your shoulders and bringing you into a spinning hug. Any other time you would have yelled at him to let you down and stop touching you, but now you were just yelling at him to shut up.

"Hey! You're here!" You heard Donatello call from afar, most likely waving. Maybe you did need to start visiting more if this is how they reacted to not seeing you for a month. Then again, anytime you came down here bad things happened. Like crushing hugs from a very strong mutant. Or best friends going insane.

"Guys! Stop!" Casey wheezed while waving his arms around wildly, succeeding in getting their attention. In turn Mikey let you down. Much to the appreciation of both you and your throbbing hand.

"April— sewers— gone crazy! Hurry!" He puffed, bending over to rest his hands on his knees.

The brothers all looked at each other with cocked eyebrows— save for Mikey; who was just now noticing the source of your discomfort.

"Woah, hey hey hey what happened to you?" He gasped with an overdramatic flair, picking your arm up by your wrist and pouting at the now dry blood on your hand. You smacked his own hand away from you, only feeling a bit regretful when he flashed a pair of sad puppy dog eyes at you.

"That's what we've been trying to tell you!" Casey groaned, extreamly annoyed at this point. "April attacked them! She went crazy! We were just on our way here, and next thing I know she starts acting all weird and runs off! She's gone!"

"Don't phrase it like that Case. Now Donnie's gonna—"

"You just lost April!?" You watched as the popcorn Donnie had been holding flew everywhere with the effort of him standing up. Well, standing up was a bit of an understatement. More like lept up.

With a sigh you watched Casey pale slightly, holding his hands up in preparation to defend the both of you.

"Relax!" Mikey sticks his tounge out at Donatello from next to you, still making grabby hands at you despite your efforts to keep him away. "I'm sure there's a logical explanation! Like she was eaten by a giant sewer snake or something. That's what you probably got bit by too." He turns to you at the last part and smiles. You resist the urge to smack him on the head.

"April clawed me you doofus. I didn't get bitten by a snake."

No sooner than the words were out of your mouth, you witnessed Casey get absolutely steamrolled by Donnie, yelling about how everyone needs to go find April. The action put a bit of a grimace on your face. Why, you had no idea, but you found yourself following after him anyway, grumbling that you better get free pizza for life after all you put up with for them.

Water splashed around your now ruined shoes as you followed after the turtles, occasionally kicking at a stray rock.

The sewers were much darker than earlier now. The dim light was no doubt provided by the setting sun outside. It was surely getting late now, and your body ached with the pang of hunger you normally got around dinner time. It would've bothered you, but you were more focused on not tripping over concrete and landing face first in shit right now.

You came to a sudden stop behind Casey, faintly recognizing your surroundings. One of his hockey sticks poked you in the forehead as he turned to adress everyone, and you rubbed at the spot.

"I think this is where we lost her." His voice was punctured with a little stammer, clearly a lot more bothered than he let on. A quick glance up confirmed that this was the spot the three of you had climbed down from a bit ago. You couldn't help but imagine the people on the streets above. Walking around without a care in the world. Certainly not thinking about kids loose down in the sewage.

"You think!? Oh well thats not vauge or anything." Donatello's angry voice called from behind you. It was enough to make you jump, something you'd deny if pointed out.

"Back of stick-master!" Casey snapped.

"Who you calling stick-master, puck-head!"

"Shut up Donnie." Any other day, and their bickering would have amused you. But right now just wasn't the time— if the look on your face wasn't evident enough.

The purple clad turtle turned to look at you in slight confusion, not expecting backlash from anyone that wasn't Casey. The others shared his look, too. At least before Casey let out a smug laugh, crossing his arms and stancing up before Donnie.

"You too, Jones. We need to get moving." You glared at the both of them icily, shouldering forward without a care. You missed the way the turtles exchanged glances with each other behind your back as they followed after.

"You alright?" Leo had called your name, water rippling around the both of you as he sped up to touch your shoulder tentivley. It wasn't a surprise when you shrugged it off. You always did that.

"Yes, Leo. I'm fine. I'd just like to find April and get a bandaid before I need another tetanus shot. Or whatever bacteria comes with human fingernails."

"She really did that to you, huh?" He pursed his lips with thought. Or whatever turtles have in replacement of lips.

You looked back at him, a harsh response sitting on your tounge. It was only the curious look he gave you that stopped it from becoming a reality.

"Yeah. It's whatever, I'll just patch it up when this is all done." You sighed through your nose.

"I think Master Splinter might have some bandages somewhere." Leo supplied, a hand on his chin as he thought about it. "If not, I'm sure Donnie has some medical supplies laying around—"

"If it's fine with you guys, I think I'll just go home and do it myself. Yeah?" You turned, walking in an awkward sideways position to keep the conversation going while looking at him.

Leo's furrowed his brow, flitting his eyes around your face in favor of ignoring Mikey from behind, who was saying something about rats while Casey retched.

"It's nothing against you, I just—"

You stopped suddenly, attention drawing itself to something over Leo's shoulder.

He turned his head quickly, hand twitching in the direction of his katanas hilts as he looked for what you were eyeing. All he saw was Casey stumbling around, coughing while waving a hand in front of his face.

You brushed past Leo, making your way to the back of the group to approach Casey. To quote April from earlier, something didn't feel right.

"Dude? You ok?"

"Yeah." He sniffed loudly. Like he had a cold. You watched cautiously as he avoided looking at you, instead focused on a nearby tunnel that split off from the main one you all were standing in. "I just. Just thought I saw—"

You were sent backward with an omph as Casey jumped back, yelping like a wounded dog. Your eyes locked with his for one moment, and your own widened as you noticed the same yellowy-red veins as before. Only this time, they were in the edges of Casey's eyes. Not April's.

"Demon rat!" He yelled. Hockey gloves pawed for purchase against the concrete wall he had pressed himself against as Casey scrambled to get a hold of something. He looked crazed. As if he could see and hear something you all couldn't.

It only worsened. You watched in a combination of confusion and horror as he began to dance around, hitting at himself like he had just walked through the world's biggest cobweb; screaming at you all to get them off him.

With a nod of affirmation from Leonardo, Donnie and Raph slammed Casey into the wall opposite he had just been clinging to. You caught a bit of satisfaction on Donatello's face as he did so, something that made you sober up for a moment to roll your eyes.

"What is your malfunction?" Raph scoffed before letting Casey's left arm go. Donnie followed, backing up with his hands on his hips sourly.

All Casey could do was let out a sob. He dropped to his knees on the ground, unscathed hockey stick clattering next to him.

"Guys, I think I have an idea of what's going on." One more look at Casey's distraught gaze sold it for you, and you leaned over to tell the others.

Right as they turned to you, a shrill screamed pierced the air, setting itself apart from Casey's defeated moaning.

"That's her!" You heard Donatello gasp. "April!"

And then Donnie was off, sprinting in the nearest direction of the sound without a care. It was like everything else was background noise to him. Your eye twitched as everyone else filed after the tall turtle, not once stopping to take in anything else. You grit your teeth, looking down at Casey's slumped figure before deciding to follow after them, cursing silently under your labored breathing.

By the time you'd caught up with them, they were all surrounding the newly found April in a semi circle, with Donnie crouching down to gently touch her leg. You could hear words of comfort floating from him to her at a rapid rate, and you might have said something snappy under different circumstances.

"Do you guys hear that?" Leo's hand came up for a moment to silence everyone. The remaining turtles standing all turned to look behind them and were met with the sight of you.

"Just me guys. No monster." You sarcastically spread your arms out.

"No. That!" Leo's finger pointed to something below you, and you turned on your heel to observe.

There was a strange blue sphere on the ground at your feet. It bumped into you once before stilling and flattening to the ground. Strange white stripes patterned it, and you all watched as it transformed into a mushroom looking shape.

You were quick to fall back towards April, who was still screaming and grunting in horror, as the others surrounded it curiously.

"It's a mutant mushroom! With feet!" Mikey cooed, clasping his hands together. That only solidified your worries.

"I'd get away from that if I were you!" You called out. Donnie, Leo, and Raph all looked at you for an explanation while Mikey continued to gush over the thing.

"Listen, something weird is going on with April and Casey's eyes, and I think it has something to do with, like, spores—"

You were shut down as the small glowing mushroom attacked Mikey, attaching itself to his face. The youngest turtle screamed and clawed at his face whilst running in circles. His sounds of distress only increased as the organism appeared to suck at his face. For a moment your brain made the connection between Mikey jumping on you earlier, and the fungi gluing itself to his head. You blinked and got rid of that thought as soon as possible.

The boys immediately jumped into action, weapons coming out as soon as Mikey threw the thing off his face and at the nearest wall. It was times like these you really wished you'd taken up Splinters offer to learn martial arts, but you'd convinced yourself you already had too much on your plate for that. At least you knew how to wield a tazer well enough.

"Fascinating!" You heard Donatello grunt inbetween swings of his bo staff. "Evolved fungi!"

All it took was a few more jabs from Raph before a yellow haze drifted his way, emerging from the flaps underneath the mushrooms umbrella.

Without missing so much as a beat, the thing rose into the air and flew in your direction, looking as if to make a home on your face now. With a quick unholstering of the only defense mechanism you had, you produced your cheap tazer, nailing the thing straight between the eyes. Er, did it even have eyes. Either way, it dropped to the floor, and the air began to smell less like piss and more like sautéed shrooms.

"Just stab the damn thing next time!" You yelled, hands shaking and still holding out the tazer at arms length. All the turtles but Raph looked at your trembling arms with wide eyes, and you crossed your arms stiffly to cover it up. They didn't need to see how upset you were getting right now.

You would never understand why they all went for blunt force trauma instead of using the edges of their weapons to slice stuff. Maybe it was a ninja thing. A really, really stupid ninja thing.

"Are you alright?" Leo stepped forward with his arm outreached, voice soft with what you hoped to god was not pity. Donnie followed suit, and for a moment you though he might be the slightest bit worried about you. At least, until he brushed right past your shoulder to go cradle April again.

"Just peachy Leonardo." You growled at him, and he retracted at the use of his full name. "It's not like I've been trying to explain what I think has been going on for the past— oh come on."

You were immediately cut off as Raph began to scream at the sight of you all. With each passing second, the urge to bash your head into the wall was getting stronger and stronger. Now you remember why you stopped coming down here so often— if this tension headache you were getting was proof enough for that.

With a few more unintelligible shouts, Raph jumped at Leo with a battle cry, looking like he was out for blood. Leo simply crouched down, letting Raph fly over him and land plastron first on the ground.

"Donnie, explination?" Mikey shouted. He was now brandishing his own nunchucks and swirling them around hesitantly.

"Wish is knew!"

"I smashed you once roach and I'll smash you again!" By now Raphael was up again. This time he was ready to attack with more than just his bare fists, and was gunning right for Leo.

"Roach?"

That clicked it all into place for you. With one more look around the tunnel, sounds of fighting echoing off the walls, you cupped your hands around your mouth.

"The mushrooms are spreading a fear toxin!" You shouted with the risk of losing your voice th next day. If you even stuck around long enough to see the next day.

"Thats why everyones eyes are turning different colors and they're acting so weird! The plants are making them see their worst fears!" This time you thought you might explode if the turtles didn't hear you. Thankfully, you watched as a bit of recognition creeped into Donatello's face at your words as he dodged another attack from Raph.

"Its fungi, not plants, but they're right!" He yelled over all the noise. With a yell, he caught one end of Mikeys nunchucks in his hand and wrapped it around Raph's torso, watching as Mikey did the same with his end. By the time they were done, Raphael was now a squirming mess on the ground, looking just as terrified as Casey and April did. Only he was more dangerous than them. A lot more dangerous.

"So what, you're telling me that that tiny little guy is causing all of this?" Leonardo huffed while standing to his full height. Mikey was the sole one restraining Raph now as you approached them all.

"That's what I've been trying to say for the past ten minutes when you keep inturrupting me!!" You seethed. Leo was the only one who had the chance to look sympathetic. That didn't stop you from hitting him on the top of his shell in frustration.

"Ow! We're sorry, we're sorry!" He winced.

"Good." You sighed, already starting to feel a little better about this situation. The hollow feeling of behind over looked still lingered, but you were focused on other more important things now. Like finding out how to counteract whatevers being sprayed around.

"Donnie, do you think if we got back to your lab you could test this for a solution?" You didn't even have to turn around to know that he was busy fawning over April, instead just amplifying your voice so he was sure to hear.

"Maybe—" He mused, bringing his hand up to rub at his chin thoughtfully. You'd been in his lab enough times to know what he was about to go off on a tangent, "—but it's more likely that there's an easier solution to this problem. Fungi normally spawn from a bigger sorce, and since there seems to be a cluster around here infecting our friends, there must be the orgins of it nearby."

"So we find it, and do some gardening." Leo smiled from beside you, bringing out his blades in a gaudy move. You just gave him a blank stare.

"What? It was a good line!"

"You need to work on your improv skills, Leo."

He sighed and lowered his weapons. Cocking one side of his hip up in the way that he does when he goes into leader mode, Leonardo went to say something else to you—probably that you all should get a move on—when a flash of neon blue entered your peripheral.

"Oh shit!"

A mouthful of nasty tasting yellow dust spread all over the bottom half of your face in a fine mist. It settled on your tongue, feeling like partials of a cotton ball had been sprinkled on it. Coughing, you stuttered in your stance to heave forward. This felt different than what you thought it would be like. You didn't think that the ground was supposed to be swirling like that.

The last thing you saw before the world flipped on it's axis was a bo staff cutting the mushroom above you in two.

You woke up with your head feeling like someone had used it as a drum in a marching band.

"Did any of you get the number of that bus that completely fucked me over?" You groaned out sardonically, not willing to open your eyes and subject yourself to the light of the world just yet.

When no one responded, you reluctantly pried your eyelids open.

You were in a different tunnel now. It looked like it belonged to the same one connecting your friends lair to anywhere else in the city, but what did you know. It wasn't like you knew anyone who lived down here or anything.

Hauling yourself up took more strength than you wanted to admit. Half of your face felt numb, and the other hald itched something awful. The sensation was killing you almost as much as this silence was. Almost.

Standing all but a few meters away from you were six figures. They looked to be your friends, but something was off. They were all motionless with their backs faced to you, and covered in a thick layer of what looked like black goo. It dripped off of them and to the ground, pooling between their feet and leaking in your direction.

"Guys?"

As soon as you take a step in their direction, all their heads snap toward you at an unnatural angle. You half expect a cracking of bones to follow the movement, but all you hear is the sound of your heart drop.

"What's going on." This time you take a step back, not forward.

It's at this point that you notice your surrounding changing. It never stays the same for more than a second, constantly twisting into something more frightening than the last; all plucked from your worst memories. The kraang cell you had been thrown in once. The pool you had been forced to take swimming lessons in as a child. Your eigth grade classroom, watching as your teacher explained to your parent that you'd never amount to anything.

Finally it settled on the lair.

You refused to be backed into a corner like all those horror flicks you'd seen with the boys. With each step the figures of your friends took, you took one back, shuffling around in circles to avoid getting trapped.

You were starting to get lightheaded with how fast you were breathing at this point.

"What?" You eventually murmered, your pupils pinpricks at this point. Your ears strained to pick up what sounded like words in response.

"Leave." Was what you eventually heard come from the clone of Raphael. Because that's what he was. A clone. Not the real thing. He couldn't be. The Raph you know wouldn't tell you to leave.

The more you thought about it, the less true that seemed.

"Leave?" You echoed. The back of your foot hit one of the arcade machines lying around before you scrambled to get around it.

"We don't need you anymore." This time your eyes snapped to the clone of Mikey. His eyes were nothing but static in that eerie black goo. You couldn't bring yourself to look at it for more than a second.

"I don't understand." Words were becoming harder and harder to pronounce. You tripped over them as your footsteps slowed.

"They never valued you. Even as a human, I could see that." The verson of Casey hissed through his distorted mask. It looked more like an actual skull than the crude spray painted verson you had grown so accustomed to.

"Why did you think we'd ever like you, when you've never even tried to like us." Leo was the second closest to you and approaching slowly. His speed should have reassured you, but something about the unrelenting and unchanging pace only made you want to hurl.

"I do like you guys!" Instead of a fierce cry coming from your throat, it was a pathetic whine. A round of hissing laughter passed through the ranks of your friends. Wait, your fake friends. These weren't the real ones. You knew that. You felt like you were supposed to know that.

"Pathetic." April's voice sounded like it came from a scratched record. Her teeth sharpened with each syllable. "I was here first. And I'll be here long after you."

"Shut up!" It was your turn to yell. You didn't mean for it to be so loud, you really didn't, but the words tore itself from you like a scream. You didn't scream. You really didn't. Not in front of other people. Not like this.

Your feet had stopped moving now. They felt like lead. Incapable of moving any further without the force of a hundered men. When you looked down, you discovered they were ensnared in metal cuffs that tightened the more you hyperventilated. Twelve chains lead away from them. You followed each with your eyes, eventually finding yourself staring right back at the soupy expanse of your six former friends. Twelve chains. Two for each of them. One in each hand.

You were brought to the floor and dragged forward. Your pants tore against the floor, leaving what was sure to be a plethora of holes if you were to check.

Fingernails broke off and bled as you desperately tried to clawed away. You reached at the hem of your pants to look for your tazer, only to come up holding a ripped picture.

It was the one you had taken of everyone after defeating the kraang. It had been a celebration. A time to bathe and relax in the fact that you all had won. Everyone had smiled as you set the five second timer on your phone, Mikey even sticking a pair of bunny ears over Raphs head without him noticing.

You looked at the spot where you were supposed to be, only met with the sight of a cut out hole.

"Out of all the delusions that have run through your head—" You looked up at the only one that had yet to speak yet. Donatello's gap toothed grin sneered down at you from your spot on the floor, your mouth drying at the mere sight of it.

"From us actually caring about you—" The chains around your legs were only spreading higher along your body now, growing past your hips.

"To thinking that we actually cared when you'd visit again—"

Donatello crouched down. The black ooze around his face parted for just a moment. Instead of the cool tint of his green skin being revealed, or that purple bandana you had hidden many times in a playful manner, all you saw were tissue sinew and blood. Flesh peeled away and drooped down his face like sad wallpaper. You choked on your own bile as he grinned at you without skin around his mouth, making a grotesque clicking sound with his teeth.

The only thing that remained normal was his reddish brown eyes. They looked at you, locking you in place with a liquid hate you had only seen from him in your nightmares.

"The funniest delusion of all, was believing that I could possibly like a person like you."

Your eyebrows pulled together in terrified confusion. Sweat dripped down your head and trickled uncomfortably to the ends of your earlobes. Your chest felt the tightest it had in your life; heartbeat practically nonexistent.

You wanted to say you had no idea what he was talking about. That he was being insane. More insane that what was already going on. But the way you reacted to his words, your ears ringing with hurt and eyes pricking with acidic tears, you knew there was some truth to it. Why you were constantly put out with his efforts to pursue April. How your face dropped at each lovestruck look he tossed at the back of her head. All those jokes you'd made about Donnie being insufferable when your friend was around; maybe not being as much of a joke as you'd thought.

You don't think you'd ever realized your ulterior motives in all those acts yourself. Maybe you wouldn't have ever if it hadn't been pointed out.

Nothing more was said, because nothing else had to be. Donatello's face sewed itself back up with a sick slurping noise, returning to fuzzy gray eyes and a black exterior. With prolonged movements, he reached for the staff on his back. It was also dripping with goo, a few droplets splattering on your already ruined clothes as he hovered one end over your face. You recognized it as the end a blade was set to come out of.

Looking back up at all of them, the chains in their hands were all gone. They didn't need them anymore. It's not like you would be going anywhere. After all, everything below your head was encased in metal. Set to rot for all eternity.

A flash a silver and the snap of a button being clicked was what sent you into darkness for a second time

"I think they're waking up!"

"Get off my table Mikey. You'll break something again!"

"Is it too late to punch his face in?"

"Guys shut up. They're awake."

Taking a moment to steel your nerves against all of the elements suddenly attacking your senses, you inhaled with a hiss, an earthquake of deja vu sweeping over you with its delightful aftershock know as nausea.

The feeling of a cold metal slab underneath you alerted you that you were in Donnies lab. Most likely lying face up on his makeshift opperating table he'd crafted out of a d.i.y welding set and spare metal slab. And if any of the very poorly concealed whispering told you anything, there were going to be quite a few mutant turtles staring down at you when you opened your eyes.

You decided to peak one open to check.

Yep. Definitely a few of them.

"I saw that! Hey, did you guys see that! Their eye moved!" You heard what was most likely Mikey flail around somewhere on your left side. A few frustrated voices snapped at him to calm down, resulting in what you guessed was a raspberry to be blown back at them.

"We know you're awake." Raphael called your name blandly. You answered with what you thought was going to be a coherent string of curses, but instead was just a really scratchy sounding groan.

"I think they said, Michelangelo is the bestest turtle of all time. And also the handsomest." You felt three giant fingers grab onto the flesh of your jaw and move your mouth up and down as Mikey did a horrible impression of your voice. Treating you almost like you were a life sized ventriloquist dummy. With a grunt and a strain of your neck, you garnered enough strength to reach up and bite at his finger, inwardly pumping your fist in the air as you heard him yelp and the feeling of fingers left your face.

"Ok now we know for sure you're awake sleepy head." You felt another finger poke the side of your head, retracting fast enough so you didn't have to chance to bite them too.

Finally giving into the curse known as getting out of bed, you opened both your eyes and tilted your head down to stare at seven sets of separate eyes.

Even Master Splinter was here. You must have been out for a while.

"How long." Was all you could manage as you propped yourself up on your elbow.

"Ten years."

"How long, Donatello." You enunciated Donnies name this time, glaring at Casey who looked very amused at his own joke.

"Fourteen hours." He barely glanced up from something he was tinkering with in his lap, looking rather focused. "It's almost noon."

That was enough to shock you up, looking around to land on April's figure as you sputtered.

"Our presentation was due today." You coughed out. She nodded, bringing her t-phone out and gesturing to it.

"I already called the school. Said we had both spent the night together and got sick. They bought it like a charm."

"What about you Casey?"

"Eh. I never show up to class anyways." He shrugged. "What's another absent day for the Jones?"

"That might explain the lack of intelligence." You heard Donnie whisper. It was followed by a soft crack and him yelping in surprise. You looked and saw nothing but a faint red mark forming on Donnies arm. If you glanced at Splinter long enough, his tail twitched once as he smiled.

"Well that's good to know." You nodded at April. "Now can someone tell me why I'm surrounded by everyone I know this side of the Hudson?"

"Like Donnie said, you were out for fourteen hours dude! That's, like a whole day! We were worried." Mikey waved his arms in the air wildly and spun around in a rolly chair. You weren't sure where he got it from, but Donatello didn't look to happy about it.

"My sons told me about what happened." Splinter interjected. Everyone turned to look at him as he leaned on his emerald cane, eyes sparkling with a fierce emotion you couldn't place.

"You were all very brave in your mission. For that I comend you. But it seems that out of everyone, you were hit the hardest by the fungus." He ended his statement in your direction with a calm tone, doing nothing to ease your worries. Breaking eye contact with him was harder than you would have liked.

"So you guys figured out how to stop it then?"

"More like Leo did." April smiled. "We found him passed out and surrounded in shriveled mushrooms, looking like he had the fight of his life."

"Against a colony of shrooms?"

"The biggest one was at least fifteen feet tall."

"I take it all back. Leo you're the best." You snickered as you carefully slid off the table, feeling confident enough to stand now. You did your best to ignore the feeling of so many sets of eyes as you did so.

"So. What was your hallucination about?" Raph was the one to break the ice, scouring your face for any sort of hint. You barely held back a wince at the question. Maybe if the memory had come back to you in bits and pieces like it did to people in the movies, the question wouldn't have off put you that bad. But instead, you'd woken up and found yourself already remembering each and every bit of the nightmarish hell you'd been trapped in.

"Raph's was about cockroaches!" Mikey sang, laughing as he poked fun at his older brother. Raphael just growled and curled his fists into balls, probably holding himself back because Splinter was standing right next to him.

"Yeah? Well Mikey's was about alien squirells!" He pointed a finger at his brother angrily. And offended gasp punctuated his accusatory tone.

"It's squirellanoids! And they are much scarier than cockroaches or rats!" Mikey whined back.

"Rats?" You question, tossing a split second glance to Splinter. Somewhere next to you Casey groaned, clearly the culprit of what you assumed had been the fur induced visions.

"Can we go back to what your thing was now?" Casey said with hot ears, clearly not appreciating his fear being put on blast while April was in the room.

You pursed your lips and directed your gaze to the lab wall behind everyone. Peeling skin and puddles of oil looking sludge flashed behind your lids each time you blinked. With it left the stabbing sensation of tears. Something you despised; especially while in the presence of others.

"Nothing much." Was what you settled on, moving forward before anyone could say anything else. "What about you, Donnie? Did you end up getting sprayed?" It was almost ironic how you immediately chose to single him out after replaying the events of your nightmare in your head. A part of you scoffed at it.

"I uh—" His face grew warm at your query and he refused to met your gaze, "—I don't want to talk about it."

With a shrug you dropped the topic.

"Mind if I go get something to eat? I, uh, kind of feel like I'm dying here." You nodded toward the door nearest the kitchen, once again changing the subject. Mikey immediately ran to it at the mention of food, screaming about pizza. According to the others, he had been waiting all day to crack open a pizza to eat with you. And you weren't about to deny him now.

As everyone filed out into the common room, a light hand placed itself on your shoulder. Without even looking back you knew who it belonged to and only confirmed it once locking eyes with Master Splinter.

"My child," He began softly. "I know we do not have the bond you do with my sons, but if you ever feel troubled, my dojo is always open for you. The mind is your most powerful weapon, and it would be a mistake to let it stew in its own treachery."

You didn't make a move to shrug his hand away or even leave. Instead you looked at him curiously, searching for even a hint of insincerity. When you found none, you just nodded.

"Now go. I know you are eager to join the others."

Splinter watched as you retreated to the playful shouting coming from the other room, hands coming to rest on the peak of his cane once more. You reminded him of his sons. Too much of his sons.

He was just glad that you'd all found each other. He might have gone insane if he had to entertain those boys the rest of his life.

[littleeyesofpallas]

So I guess this is a good time to do a recap of some old Ukitake posts: [1][2][3][4][5][6]

Ukitake[浮竹] Juushirou[十四郎] actually has one of my favorite names in the series as it feels like it says a lot about his core concept beyond what we're really given in canon. The family name reads uki-[浮]: "Floating" and take-[竹]: "Bamboo." That same "floating" is part of the word fuurou[浮浪]: "vagrant/vagabond" and a few other colloquial terms, a generally circling around a homeless person or a drifter. (In fact the other half of that compound word, [浪] is the "wave" in ronin[浪人]: "wave man/person" as in a masterless samurai.) Bamboo being a staple lumber in Japan of course but also notorious for its fast and rampant growth, as it is quick to spread and choke out other plants in an environment. The idea of "floating..." or "vagrant bamboo" gives an impression of being plentiful and common, even excessive.

The personal name, Juushirou[十四郎] just reads "14(th) Son" which always implied he came from a large family. A profile in the back of vol. 18 long ago confirmed he had brothers and sisters, but curiously all younger than him. The implication seemed clear that as a sickly person from a big family, he was poor and that there were 13 prior children who died before him, which is really the only reason you'd name a child the way they did. This feels like it works in tandem with the family name to again emphasize a family of many, but also almost expendable. The big family is also why he's got an affinity for children

That said it always felt to me like the backstory should have been more grim? Like rather than just praying to a god to save his life, it seemed more like he should have been a sacrifice made to ensure the family line continued. Like first 13 kids died, they were afraid he was their last chance, but he was sickly, so they sacrificed him to basically ensure the next ones would come out alright. Hence the kids younger than him surviving in spite of the ominous past implied by his name.

(Also the "shiro" phonetics in his name as a homonym with shiro[白]:white point to his hair. Kubo makes an explicit joke about this as Toshiro, also white haired, shares a similar wordplay, his name Toshirou[冬獅郎] meaning "Winter Lion Son.")

Then there's his shikai, Sougyo-no-Kotowari[双魚理] which reads "PairFish's Reason/Logic/Natural way of things." (sougyo-kyu[双魚宮] is the Japanese name of the constellation Pisces.) It appears to be an allusion to daoism/onmyodo, and the yin-yang diagram of balance, and this theme gets built upon by other contextual information like the zanpakutou arc's designs borrowing from onmyoji, and Ukitake's presence in conjunction with fish imagery and metaphor in the Jaws of Hell arc.

The little preamble to that chapter, about the two fish in balance until one dies and then the other grows bigger, is itself synonymous with sougyo-no-kotowari: The Natural Order of Two Fish.

The release command [波悉く我が盾となれ]: "All Waves be my shield," [雷悉く我が刃となれ]: "All LightningBolts be my blade" is fairly straight forward and just evokes the image of a stormy sea, which actually seems to have surprisingly little to do with the rest of the themes in play? I mean sure, waves and fish and floating, but when the floating and fish are less than literal the waves and lightning without any additional reading feel kind of out of place?

Of note: the onymoji was a prestigious class of sort of advisor in the japanese imperial court was at its peak in the Heian period, the long standing era of peace in ancient Japan that came just before the descent into the civil war of the Sengoku period. (Subsequently the onmyoji lost most of their power and clout during the waring states period as power shifted from the imperial court to the shogunate.) They were associated with and consulted for a wide range of things from medicine, to architecture, to city planning and meteorology, and divination, and perhaps most well loved by media, as exorcists. This ties into things like his beyond bankai form in Bleach Brave Souls where they opt for a more shinto purification theme, in either case making him fit something of a paragon role as Shinigami as ""cleansing"" hollows rather than destroying them.

Actually those shinto motifs all link to the recent addition of shinto themes in Mimihagi pretty directly, but I'll get to that in a bit...

It's worth noting that with Kyoraku's emphasis on a leisurely city life in the capital(Kyoto), and the onmyo mystic themes of Sougyo-no-kotowari, Kyoraku and Ukitake appear to both represent aspects of the Heian period, and thus cultures that predate the Sengoku period, and the rise of the samurai, lending to their role as two of the most senior members of the gotei 13.

People often forget but technicaly Ukitake was the first captain we were introduced to, well before Byakuya showed up, the Captain title just wasn't present at the time. When Rukia has her flashback to a then uncertain event while Ichigo fights Grandfisher, it's Ukitake she's hearing speak and that we catch just a brief glimpse of the back of the head of. Like I said there were no captain ranks in the story a that point, so he just appears as long flowing white hair over an all black shihakusho. I think his hair was always meant to help him embody an element of balance between black and white, and thus the very series title: Bleach.

I think there was always an implicit siniste quality to the idea of "Balance" underlying the shinigami that Kubo tried to gesture towards with the general vibe of the Soul Society -v- Rukongai dynamics, the Shibas, that flicker of a twist in the Fullbringer arc that Ichigo just ignored, and even with a lot of the loose and ultimately unfulfilled themes he set up for the TYBW arc with Yhwach's plans for a new world and Juugram's Balance schrift.

Oh I forgot the whole MIMIHAGI bit, despite teh being the whole subject of this week's episode:

東流魂街七十六地区『逆骨』に伝わる単眼異形の土着神。

An indigenous God of Grotesque/Suspicious Single-eye passed down in East Rukongai 76(th) zone "Sakahone(Reverse Bone)"

太古の昔、天より瀞霊廷に落ちて来た霊王の右手を祀ったとされるもので、自らの持つ「眼」以外のすべてを捧げた者に加護をもたらすと言い伝えられている。

(In)Ancient Times, From Heaven to the Seireitei the fallen right hand of the Rei-Oh is said to have been enshrined.

浮竹の行った『神掛』は、体内に宿るミミハギ様の力を全身の臓腑へと広げる事で、全ての臓腑をミミハギ様に捧げ、その依り代になる儀式である。

Ukitake's performed "Kamikake(God debt)" was, the power of MIMIHAGI dwelling in the body spreading to the whole of the viscera/entrails, offer up all of your entrails to MIMIHAGI-sama, it is a ceremony/ritual to become a Yorishiro*

『神掛』を成功させた浮竹は、霊王の右腕そのものとなった。

Ukitake succeeded at/with "Kamikake", he had become the right hand of the Rei-Oh.

*i don't have a more concise way to translate this... the translation listed run something like "object representative of a divine spirit"/" object to which a spirit is drawn or summoned"/"object or animal occupied by a kami​" and it's specifically a shinto thing.

When you see big deified trees with the shimenawa ropes and shide paper talismans, those trees are yorishiro. or rather they're Shintai, because a Yorishiro is a thing capable of being host to a kami, the Shintai is after they've been deified. (And technically when you do that to a person it would be called Yorimashi, not Yorishiro. I don't know if that's meant to specifically dehumanize Ukitake or if its a broad enough term that it doesnt really make a difference. Although if you really wanted to stretch it you could argue that Ukitake is an object and not a person because he did die from his illness and the thing deified wasn't a "living" person it was a corpse. Which would very curiously position him as an inversion of Ichigo, who was human, "died" in that his soul was deliberately severed from his body, but continued to operate as nominally human while getting to dip a toe into the shinigami powers and the spirit world.)

These little eye catch data cards really aren't giving us anything new huh?

[mxtxfanatic]

Alright mxtx fandoms, let’s discuss class distinctions. I see a lot of people who discuss the theme of classism in mxtx works by collapsing all class groups into two categories: the ultra rich upper class who make all the rules and the poverty-stricken lower class who are oppressed by them. However, this is rarely the case in her books. The prime examples I can think of are in tgcf and mdzs.

In mdzs, a lot of people claim that Wei Wuxian and Jin Guangyao come from “similar backgrounds,” but this is most definitely not the case. Yes, Jin Guangyao went unclaimed by his father until later into his adulthood after his mother’s death, but Meng Yao did not grow up poor. Meng Shi was a famed courtesan with high-profile clients before she had her son, and having Meng Yao was a plan for her to be made into a mistress or second wife (which ultimately failed). Sisi was almost turned into a second wife, which is what caused her to be attacked and ruined her looks. Sex workers operated in a weird social space in ancient history where they existed as an industry, but class distinctions between different kinds of sex work still existed/exists and Meng Shi was definitely not on the low end of the scale. Even if Jin Guangyao had never been acknowledged by his father, he still found an honest job as a bookkeeper before meeting Lan Xichen. Meanwhile, Wei Wuxian was a street orphan with no family, money, status, who barely remembered his name, and definitely no benefit of an education due to how young he was orphaned, who was eventually taken in as the companion servant to a local lord-equivalent’s son. Neither of these characters started off as gentry, but they were not of the same class growing up.

In tgcf, Mu Qing is touted as a “poor”/working-class character by a large portion of the fandom, but… there’s no real evidence that he is? I mean, I have no doubt that, given the circumstances of his father’s death and his mother’s eventual disability, he was in poverty at some point, and this seems to be corroborated within the narrative by the fact that he is well-known and loved by the street orphans in the city. However, you cannot tell me that the personal servant to the crown (and only) prince to an entire kingdom is surviving off poverty wages. You’d be better-served making an argument to me about Anne Boleyn being an accurate historical representation of English serfs. Hong Hong’er, actual child living in poverty, is notably set apart from Mu Qing: from his fraying, patched clothes to his dirty hands to Mu Qing’s unwillingness to touch him… Mu Qing is set apart from the upper crust because 1) he is not of nobility but, more importantly, 2) his father was a criminal publicly executed for treason. And #2 is particularly damning for Mu Qing’s status amongst the nobility because Feng Xin, also not from a noble family, is (conditionally) accepted amongst the same elite snobs in a way Mu Qing is not (which makes sense since why would a noble like the son of a man who may have conspired against their rule?). Interesting to note, though, that the only time Mu Qing is unquestionably included in the array of the elite is when Hong Hong’er is being ostracized by the same group (minus Xie Lian). So while Hua Cheng and Mu Qing both had childhoods outside the nobility, Mu Qing was not anywhere near the level of poverty Hua Cheng had to live through.

I feel like svsss escapes this sort of broad-stroke application of class status to characters because most characters really do either fall into one of the two groups or we are not given background information on them at all. We know that Shen Jiu and Yue Qingyuan were child slaves, with the former being bought by a cruel master and the latter being able to escape and join a sect. We know that Luo Binghe, while not a child slave, was a child servant working with his adoptive mother under cruel masters who were directly the cause of his mother’s death. Slight distinction, but functionally not any different in their effects and outcomes. Shen Yuan is said to come from a wealthy family in his world, and Liu Qingge and Liu Mingyan do, as well. All the major demon characters are nobility. The only character we see who does not fit into this distinct divide is Shang Qinghua, but his background only becomes fleshed-out in the extras. Not to say that classism isn’t also a theme, but it’s function is used differently here than in the other two novels (especially since in svsss, we are working with parallels feeding into cycles of abuse and how to break said cycles rather than recreating them into infinity).

So with all this said, I think it may actually help discussions of the classism theme within these different mxtx fandoms to acknowledge and take into account the nuances within the class positions that these characters occupy. Why is it that the functionally middle-class characters, after gaining a crumb of acceptance from the elites, tend to turn against those lower on the rung? How do characters of the same background and class status interact with others of differing status, and what makes their reactions different from each other despite being raised under similar conditions? What is mxtx trying to say about class as a social or even moral divider by adding all these class nuances or (with svsss) lack thereof into her various narratives?

[dailydemonspotlight]

Adramelech - Day 96

Race: Fallen

Arcana: Hanged Man

Alignment: Neutral-Chaos

August 19th, 2024

For such a central and popular concept, ironically, Demons are actually a rather uncommon sight in many translations of the Bible. For the most part, several attestations of demons are relegated to the old testament, with the new testament seeming to focus most on demons in terms of spiritual possession and the like. However, many biblical stories that have demons within them seem to have a few common trends, whether it be references to demons in reference to grimoires or, more strangely, and more rarely, translating gods from other religions into demons. This can be observed in Dante’s Inferno most obviously, with several deities from other religions seeming to be reinterpreted as demons or sorcerers. However, while most can recognize deities from throughout this trend as not originating as demons, some are a bit more obscure, especially when this trend spreads to other books. One such deity of course, is today’s Demon of the Day, Adrammelech: an ancient semitic deity turned demon in Paradise Lost. 

While only mentioned briefly in the Book of Kings, Adrammelech is a very curious figure in the world of Biblical study. For those unaware, the Book of Kings is a book situated in the Hebrew bible cut in two parts, including mythologized accounts of real history in order to tell the theologized story of the destruction of the Kingdom of Judah by Babylon. Of course, like many books in the bible, the Book of Kings is long, interspersed between Luke and Leviticus, and its two parts are a rather complicated read overall, but for our purposes, we only need to focus on a mention in Kings 2, particularly in 17:31. 

the Avvites made Nibhaz and Tartak, and the Sepharvites burned their children in the fire as sacrifices to Adrammelek and Anammelek, the gods of Sepharvaim.

Interesting to note here is the mention of ‘Sepharviam,’ a word that has contested meanings and is said to be grammatically dual, but is generally agreed to mean the cities of Sippar Yahrurum and Sippar-Amnanum. Both of those cities, notably, were placed just north of Babylon, noted home of sinners and all sorts of nasty stuff, so the antagonistic role that Adrammelech is painted in is rather obvious in its origins already. Also, Anammelech is mentioned in the above passage, but basically nothing is known about said god, so we’ll just brush over that. 

Adrammelech’s name meaning ‘Magnificent King’ has been connected to Baal, though it’s commonly believed that Adrammelech and Baal are different beings with simply similar epithets. However, this does tie into the fact that, much like Baal, Adrammelech was a semitic deity whose worship was rather extremely depicted in the Bible. This isn’t the only place Adrammelech shows up, though- the Talmud has its own appearance in it of this god, where it gives us a physical description. To quote the Jewish Encyclopedia, 

The Talmud teaches (Sanh. 63b) that Adrammelech was an idol of the Sepharvaim in the shape of an ass. This is to be concluded from his name, which is compounded of  "to carry" (compare Syriac ), and  "a king." These heathen worshiped as God the same animal which carried their burdens (Sanh. l.c.; see also Rashi's explanation of this passage which interprets  "to distinguish," by "carrying"). Still another explanation of the name ascribes to the god the form of a peacock and derives the name from adar ("magnificent") and melek ("king"); Yer. 'Ab. Zarah, iii. 42d.

And all of this, eventually, ties into Adrammelech’s appearance in Paradise Lost, where he finally appears as a demon, and an incredibly powerful one at that, one who fights alongside Asmodeus but is eventually vanquished by Uriel and Raphael. To quote, 

Down clov’n to the waste, with shatterd Armes And uncouth paine fled bellowing. On each wing URIEL and RAPHAEL his vaunting foe, Though huge, and in a Rock of Diamond Armd, Vanquish’d ADRAMELEC, and ASMADAI, 365 Two potent Thrones, that to be less then Gods 

Finally, as a solid explanation and image for Adramelech, as he barely appears in said poem, we get a description in the Infernal Dictionary, a book by one Collin de Plancy going over yet another compendium of demons, in which he is depicted as a chancellor of hell and among Satan’s cabinet, appearing in the form of a humanoid body with a mule’s head and a peacock’s tail. A rather faithfully adapted design into SMT, funny enough. 

Lastly, though, he appears in, drumroll please…  the Ars Goetia! YEAH!!!! Unfortunately, his given name is Andrealphus, though everything else is accurate, strange appearance and all. A strange story for an even stranger demon, I must say, but also a fitting start to the countdown to 100. 

[melziekit]

As Bright As The Night

Do the stars align for those who are borne not under its sky? Aka Snippets of Kaeya's life after he's abandoned in Mondstat

Also on AO3

(Chapter Notes Here)

Characters: Kaeya, Diluc, Crepus, Adelinde, Mentioned Varka, Mentioned Jean Content: Fluff and Angst, References to Canon, Kaeya Angst, Diluc and Kaeya are Siblings, Parent Crepus, Parental Adelinde

Chapter 1

Word Count: 1.7k

Kaeya is born under the glow of starlight.

His hair grows out in the shade of the hottest flame, free-flowing as the waves between the night sky. His skin, gently kissed by the sweetest mocha tone. Perhaps it was left over from those soft, tender kisses his father would leave on his mother's stomach. Those spare moments where the reagents of Khaenri’ah would get a moment to themselves, after tireless, late nights and groggy, overworked mornings. There was never time to rest, not even for the most powerful of leaders.

Nonetheless, Kaeya is a tapestry, weaving aspects from the lines of his blood into a beautiful mural. A blessing to the nation of the non-dreamers, his small family calls him the best gift they could ever dream of having.

Everyone he remembers seeing shares the same eyes, carrying the stars in their gazes. Their stars reflect his own, and the ones above. He is taught that there are worlds among the glowing dots in the sky where people and things live, but none have ever made it up there. At least, so far.

They consider it a blessing not to be governed by gods, unlike those who have suffered eons of blood battles across their lands, in a place far away. Here, they are free to do what they want, roam wherever they please, and create all they wish. Here, they can choose to be whoever they want to be. For only they will know the truth.

His family gathers every night in their shared bed, watching the stars twinkle through the open circle in the ceiling. Kaeya falls asleep as a toddler, safe in the arms of the ones he loves. He hopes that someday, he can explore the expanse of the abyss beyond the small world he calls home.

The stars watch as Kaeya uses their glow to study ancient passages and swing his blade into the emptiness of his room. Gold-plated embellishments around the area gleam under the soft light, peeking out from the cover of the night. He can start to feel the parts of his palm beginning to sore from the tight grip on his wooden blade. Blinking out the sleep wanting to overtake his small form, he forces himself to run through the exercise again.

"We of the Alberich Clan should lead lives as those who blaze like fire, rather than those who wallow in the embers."

He must become that flame, to light up his nation and cast everything else into shadows. He must not show weakness. He should not show mercy.

Clouds of smog and magic blanket the world. Kaeya's breathing is rough as he's carried away. He was snatched from his bed, cradled into his father's arms and they fled. Kaeya doesn't know what's happened, or why his mother never followed. People, monsters, and unidentifiable humanoid creatures alike swarm the city.

He keeps quiet though, because as the next heir of the Alberich clan, he should become a flawless leader that embodies perfection itself. He should set the example, to be serene, yet firm in every decision he makes. He wants nothing more than to scream at the chaos.

Kaeya wishes he could at least see the star present in his own eyes, to gain some comfort through this purgatory. They had gone through some sort of rift, a mass of energy that felt dangerous as his father conjured the split. But he didn't, couldn't, open his mouth to say so when they jumped through.

Now, the two are frozen in place, left to watch darkness for eternity. His father still holds him, but neither has moved for quite some time. He can't shift his head, or wiggle the tips of his fingers. He can't open his mouth, which reminds him that they should probably eat soon. But strangely enough, it has surely been hours and he isn't feeling hungry yet.

His eyes don't water either, even though they're snapped open. And so he waits. He waits again, and then a little more. But there is no color, not a quiver in the air or a sensation past the long dulled touch on his back. Dully, he wonders if this is what death was like. All he does is continue to look, eyes open but never able to see.

Kaeya nearly cries from relief when he numbly falls onto the ground, the world illuminated with color once more. He's crumpled in a heap on the dirt, still slightly warm from the sun that clawed its last marks on the sky as it was dragged away from the night. It burns on his skin. He blinks for the first time. Another, and again. His chest hurts with the way he greedily sucks in the air, scented with trees, soil, and something slightly sweet.

Someone had opened another rift in the darkness. He was blinded by the first traces of light, but he could focus just enough to see a human-like figure before falling out. Kaeya shakily moves his limbs, his hands are barely able to support the weight of his body.

He hears his father grunt, and stand. He talks to the person, who Kaeya doesn't recognize. They wear similar clothes to the knights in Khaenri'ah but this most certainly doesn't look like home. He gets to his feet at a snail's pace, and his eyes widen after his father puts a hand on his shoulder.

The stars bring him no comfort. He doesn't have the mind to look at them, can't process anything at the moment, really.

"If Master Crepus hadn't taken me in, I doubt I'd have made it through the storm that night," he would later tell curious patrons at Angel's Share in his future.

Yes. A storm. The flurry of emotions in his chest had no better description than that. His father told him that it was his chance, that he was the last hope. For what? For his family? For Khaenri'ah? He doesn't know, as his father goes through another rift again, this time with the mysterious person leading the way. Kaeya runs to the cloud of twilight... and goes through it. He trips and falls into the dirt once more. The portal disappears in silence.

A man with a bushy red mane for hair finds him not long after, sobbing and covered in filth. He kneels between the rows of violet grapes and extends a hand to Kaeya. Kaeya backpedals into a bush and stammers out violent warnings to stay away. The man only keeps his steady gaze. Hesitantly, Kaeya reaches out and takes the hand. He gets picked up and cradled in one arm. He's unbothered by the way the dirt rubs into the pristine, high-quality cotton of his dress shirt. Kaeya tucks his head against the stranger's chest and closes his eyes, falling into a deep sleep. It's warm.

A fire burns on the opposite side of the room. This place is strange. It's baffling how similar, yet so different to home. The walls are too thin, and the room is too small. It makes him feel like he's in a hole in the ground, trapped with no way to escape. The floor is made out of wood and not stone, which makes Kaeya think that it's probably going to be a fire hazard.

But the sheets are soft and smell like sunlight. It eases the fear he has when he jerks awake from a nightmare, the image of Khaenri'ah burning, seared brightly behind his eyelids. He pants and rubs his eye furiously. His vision swims, and he forces his breathing to level out. It picks up again when a knock at the door catches him off guard. He immediately bristles up, star-shaped pupil narrowed like a cat.

The man with the red hair steps in, and sends him a friendly smile. It eases his tensed form slightly, but he narrows his eye at the second form behind the large figure. In comes a carbon copy of the man, in a much, much smaller form. The man points at himself and says something. Kaeya tilts his head. The man repeats it.

"Crepus."

Kaeya realizes that he's probably said his name. The boy shyly says his own.

"Diluc."

They watch Kaeya for his response. He swallows dryly and opens and closes his mouth a few times.

"Kaeya," he finally manages out.

Crepus says nothing, but the look in his eyes shows relief. He makes a few gestures, and Kaeya picks out the meaning. It's been about three days since he... arrived. Diluc shyly clings to his father's legs and stares at Kaeya with wide red eyes. He waves with small, stubby fingers. Kaeya only tilts his head in confusion, and Diluc runs away.

Over the next few months, their relationship will change, and no one would ever guess that Diluc was once scared of the other. They'll be bonded like they were born from the same womb. Still, his father's words won't be able to escape Kaeya's mind.

Days pass by slowly. Kaeya learns how to sneak out at night to catch glimpses of the stars from the roof. The window creaks if he pushes it out too far, but he quickly realizes the exact angles he needs for his small body to slip through. Cold red tiles chill his feet, but he ignores it in favor of being able to gain safety in this once comforting experience.

He has learned that the people here believe that everyone's fate has been interwoven with the glowing dots in the sky. Wryly, Kaeya wonders if he can find a constellation for him in this sky, if it would even exist.

The stars here are wrong. They hang as stationary pointed spheres; too close, and none of them pulse and shine like they're supposed to. He can't find the constellations that his mother would point out and trace with her finger each night. He doesn't see his favorite star, red and pulsing. It was the only one in the patch of soft white dots. A single beacon amidst monotony.

And now, there is only one glowing ball hovering in the sky. The moons that used to span over the sky, laid in their bed of twinkling diamonds, no longer exist in a trio. The last moon is small. It struggles to rise and fall every night. The details on its surface are hard to make out, unlike how it glowed with full radiance in Khaenri'ah. Still, it can chase off the sun by itself, mighty in quiet strength. "Perhaps," young Kaeya thinks to himself. "Perhaps there is another who might be like me."

[jeannereames]

My professor today told me that often affections in Ancient Greece weren’t shown in public, while on social media (i know it’s not the best source if not certified.) but they say in Ancient Greece men used to throw and apple to the lady they wanted to marry. Which seems strange??? As i know that weddings had quite more procedures then modern ones, and lasted at least three days of celebration.

Love your work! 💕💕 I read “Dancing with the lion, rising.”and i was fascinated to know more about the past from where I’m from, going back to what i was saying when you wrote about Phillip’s marriage to Kleopatra Eurydice I noticed he cut the bread just like Alexander in Oliver Stone film when he married Roxana. So was it a more common practice word wide that time? Or simply a Greek-Macedonian custom?

Women & Public Displays of Affection in Greece

First, let me respond to the second part with thank you! I’m delighted you enjoyed the book. You mention Rise, but I assume you found the first half Becoming, as well? As for the sword-cutting of bread, yes, Curtius tells us that was a specifically Macedonian custom. He had some source (possibly Marsyas) that must have related some Macedonian customs, as such mentions dot his work.

Now, the first first part of the question... your professor isn’t wrong, at least between the sexes. But the ancient Greeks were an expressive bunch—then and now. They were perfectly comfortable hugging, embracing, and even kissing (especially on cheeks) good friends of the same gender. That said, touching between men and (citizen) women wasn’t acceptable in public, so I assume that’s what your professor was referring to. Such constraints has more to do with the relative status of free citizen women than emotional reticence.

Greek society tended to divide women sharply into the “good girls” (wives, daughters, mothers, sisters, etc.) and “bad girls” (prostitutes of all types). Mistresses (pallakai) were a sort of third class but bunched more with prostitutes. How each were treated depended on where you were (what physical space) and their status.

Most men weren’t galivanting around the streets with a prostitute on their arm. These were girls one visited for a quickie, or as entertainment at symposia. It’s highly unlikely a man would be seen with lower level prostitutes in public. (A symposion isn’t public space.)

Hetairai (high-class call girls) and pallakai were different, in that they might, indeed, be seen in public. But if so, they tended to dress (and behave) like upper-class women, which means they were covered head to foot and didn’t interact with strange men. Part of the “fiction” of their unique status was the appearance of respectability. That said, they had a bit more freedom. The pundits in Athens noted that Perikles was so taken with Aspasia, his mistress, that he moved in with her and would kiss her every morning when he left the house for the agora to conduct city business. We might see that as sweet, but the Athenians considered it scandalous!

When it came to “citizen women”—e.g., the wives/daughters/mothers/sisters of citizen men—they weren’t to interact with strange (adult) men outside their homes. When they did go out, they were expected to cover themselves pretty thoroughly, as above. Their given names weren’t even to be spoke in public. They were so-and-so’s daughter/wife/mother/sister. To call a woman by her given name publicly could get you busted in the nose! It implied you knew her a bit too well.

Yet keep in mind, all this is 1) an ideal, and an ideal heavily shaped by Athenian evidence, and also 2) largely for wealthier and elite women. We hear of plenty fishwives, laundresses, herbalists, midwives, etc., who worked outside the home, interacting with “strange men” (their customers) on a regular basis. Nor could they dress that restrictively and get anything done. And rural populations had different value systems and expectations than urbanites, due to the demands of farming. At harvest time, it was all hands on deck, men and women.

So yes, especially among the farmer and lower classes, women and “strange men” (meaning non-relatives) did interact, but social restrictions remained. Nor was courting a thing. A man interested in marrying a girl approached the father. The girl’s opinion wasn’t sought, at least not officially. Even mama’s opinion wasn’t sought. But among most families, and again, especially farmers and lower classes, you can be sure at least mama had a say, as families strongly depended on each other, and the father in these families simply can’t afford to ignore and alienate his wife. That said, the girl’s opinion didn’t necessarily matter, and the prospective groom had to convince her parents, not her.

Once they were betrothed and the contract is signed, her future husband could interact with her. There wasn’t usually a long wait between betrothal and marriage anyway, and it seems that the bride occasionally had a bun in the oven even before the nuptials, although it wasn’t strictly kosher. The child would still be recognized legitimate. All that implies brides weren’t necessarily supervised when meeting with their grooms, although no doubt for the upper classes, they were.

Going back to ideals, “good girls” aren’t really to be seen outside the home, and certainly not in the company of non-related men. Even her groom is now “related” to her. But it would be considered uncouth to hold hands or kiss her before strangers.

I’ve never heard of this apple-throwing thing. And her opinion didn’t matter anyway. Her father’s did. Maybe the person who said it was confused, and it referenced some anecdote about men and hetairai or flute girls at symposia. That sounds much more likely.

[ghostsandgod]

The Vile Truth of Barbas

From the notes of Pelagius Habor, Council Daedrologist-in-Residence, Imperial City

A scholarly essay on the relationship between Clavicus Vile and Barbas

Every true Daedrologist has a favorite Prince. We rarely admit it, but it's true. Each Prince, while horrifying, has a curious and often hilarious quirk. Sheogorath's peculiarities are well known, but when you really think about it, all the Princes are a bit silly. Hircine has the clumsy head of an ungulate. Sanguine is an inveterate drunk. It's precisely these eccentricities that make the Princes a source of endless fascination for Daedrologists such as myself. Unlike the stuffy and aloof Aedra, the Princes suffer from the same neuroses, flaws, and childish fixations that trouble men and mer. They are more like us than we care to admit. As for me? Of all the Daedric Princes, Clavicus Vile is my favorite—and it has everything to do with his loyal hound, Barbas.I have come to believe that Clavicus Vile is unique in that he exists in two persons. This is, of course, the subject of vigorous debate in Daedrological circles. Many of my confederates would argue that Barbas is merely a greater Daedric servant—no more linked to Vile than a horse is linked to its rider. But I urge you to consider the evidence. The first and most obvious proof of their consubstantiality is found in art. Crude, hand-carved idols dating back to the early Merethic Era depict the masked figure of Clavicus Vile standing beside a large hound, as do ancient cave paintings. I have explored the width and breadth of Tamriel in search of Daedric oddities, and in all my travels I have never found any depiction of Vile that does not include Barbas at his side. I've also read hundreds of firsthand accounts detailing encounters with the Prince. Each of those accounts, without exception, features Barbas in some capacity.If we accept the premise that Clavicus Vile and Barbas are (at least in some sense) the same person, the natural question is "Why?" Why would an entity possessing godlike power allow itself to be bifurcated? I have a number of hypotheses, but my best guess is simply this: companionship. The "life" of a Prince is one of near-total isolation. Some Princes, like Hermaeus Mora and Nocturnal, appear to revel in this solitude. But everything we know of Clavicus Vile indicates that he is a profoundly social being. His love of bartering, his willingness to bestow wishes upon those that engage with him, his bewitching mask—each of these things point to a being that thrives on interaction, conversation, and play. A being so inclined would likely go mad without some companion to speak to, argue with, and complain about. One might even view it as a marriage of sorts, albeit an inverted one. Rather than two becoming one, as in the Pledge of Mara, one has become two—a paradoxical reversal of the Aedric ritual."But why a dog?" you ask? I've puzzled over this for years. Again, I can offer little more than supposition. My best guess is that it has to do with power roles. If Clavicus Vile sheared off a larger share of his animus to create an equal, the two would plot and scheme against each other constantly. In creating a canine counterpart, Vile ensures his position as master. Dogs are ancient symbols of loyalty and submission. They are servants and never masters. So it is with Barbas.Of course, Barbas is not always a dog. Like other Daedric Princes, Barbas can present himself in a number of different forms. He has appeared as both man and mer, as animals, lesser Daedra, even inanimate objects! This ability to bend his shape, but retain his fundamental animus is a power that no other Daedra on record has been able to replicate—aside from Princes, that is. Coincidence? I think not.We will likely never know Barbas's true nature with certainty, but the evidence points me to only one conclusion: Barbas and Clavicus Vile are one person in two forms. The master is also the servant. The handler is also the hound. It's a unique and fascinating paradox—the sort of mystery that makes Daedrology worth studying!

[blackjackkent]

Quick look around the mind flayer colony area before, I assume, talking to Aylin to figure out how the hell to climb out of the Great Flesh Pit of Moonrise Towers.

A note to Gortash, sitting on a table:

This is not a surprise, necessarily, as we were already aware that Gortash has been climbing the social ranks in Baldur's Gate - Florrick referred to him as being responsible for some sort of automaton guard corps which was getting him lots of influence. Given what we know about him now, though, and especially given he now has control of Duke Ravengard, this is VERY concerning.

Also - I'm sure he brought the letter here from the city but I'm amused by the mental image of it somehow having been delivered to The Flesh Pit, Moonrise Towers, by some messenger who just was not paid enough to give a shit.

Some further exposition regarding the overall plot of the Chosen:

And... Ketheric's body.

In my banter post previously I had Shadowheart pulling the stone out of Ketheric's armor, but we do actually get a cutscene of Hector doing it which turned out to be more elaborate than I expected:

Narrator: In death, the body is cooling, but energy radiates from the stone.

A sudden low hiss, and a portal opens, a rip forming in reality behind Hector. He starts to his feet, fists coming up just a little slower than usual, betraying his injuries -- but then he relaxes, realizing that a familiar face is stepping through.

"Remarkable, truly..." the guardian mutters, looking at the stone in his hand.

He blinks at her, bewildered. He has never seen her like this, in the 'flesh' - outside the Astral Prism's pocket plane. He didn't entirely know it was even possible for her to leave it.

"And now the picture comes together," she goes on thoughtfully, her gaze lifting to meet his. There is a complicated expression in her eyes - satisfaction, or concern, or perhaps even pride. "The Absolute is neither god nor man. It is the elder brain you saw, held here by those three against its will. The crown it wears controls it, and these stones control the crown. It has been dominated."

She slowly circles Ketheric's body, looking down at it with narrowed eyes. "To master an elder brain... to subdue it..." She purses her lips worriedly. "Our enemies are formidable."

No question of that, Hector reflects ruefully. The guardian's analysis of the situation matches what he and his companions had already sussed out. There are more questions he has, of course, many more, but at least so far they are on the same page.

"How is it you're able to leave the Astral Prism now?" he asks. He is surprised to hear the heaviness in his own voice; as the adrenaline of the battle and the conversation with Aylin is starting to fade, there is nothing left but the purest, bone-deep exhaustion.

"A temporary reprieve," she answers - and he can hear that same exhaustion in her tone. "But a welcome one. With the brain on its way to the city, its influence here has weakened."

Not really as heartening a description of the situation as either of them would prefer, but at least it makes sense.

"What are these stones?" he asks next.

"The crown's markings suggest it was forged in Netheril, an ancient empire whose mastery over magic rivalled that of the gods," she says briskly. "It is a crown of domination. The stones were taken from its crest. They are Netherstones, imbued with the ability to control the wearer of the crown. The crown's Netherese magic must be the true source of the parasite's abilities. This must be what elevates their potential. And it must be the reason nobody could heal you." She purses her lips tightly around her jutting fangs. "If the crown can do this to the parasites, I dare not imagine what it is doing to the brain."

Hector grimaces. This confirms something else he'd suspected from much of the reading they've done in this place. And it means, most likely, that he will have to have a rather uncomfortable conversation with Gale very soon; of all of them, the wizard knows the most about Netherese magic... but it's also the type of magic that put the explosive orb in his chest.

"Do you know who our enemies are?" he asks.

"One of them I know," the guardian says thoughtfully. "Lord Enver Gortash - an arms dealer and slaver. A worshipper of Bane, the god of tyranny. The other is a mystery to me. But the way she spoke, it is most likely she follows Bhaal, god of murder." She looks down again at Ketheric's body. "Ketheric was a follower of Myrkul. Which means the Absolute is a front for the gods of death, and our enemies are the Chosen of the Dead Three."

Hector draws a breath and lets it out unsteadily. All of this is much as he already understood it (though he'd hoped the guardian might have some insight to provide regarding the Bhaalist Chosen), but somehow hearing it all stated in such plain terms, in the guardian's crisp, calm, matter-of-fact voice, is overwhelming all over again.

"What hope do we have," he asks softly, "if the gods themselves are involved?"

Under other circumstances, perhaps, she might offer him comfort. He can see a softness in her eyes that is pity, but there is no room for it in her bearing.

"Hope," she says, beginning equally soft, "is a luxury for those who have a choice. This is the battle of our lives, and the lives of everyone in Faerun. The army of the Absolute is marching on Baldur's Gate. Within the city, an Elder Brain brimming with power, ready to turn everyone within its reach into mind flayers. All it needs is an order - an order the death gods' Chosen are on the cusp of giving!"

Her voice has begun to increase in volume and intensity; she steps forward, stabbing a gauntleted finger against his chest. "We *must* wrest control of the brain from the Chosen before that happens. We *must* take their stones. Our chances of success are slim, but we must not fail. If we fail, everything ends."

She draws back, her arm pulling into a salute against her chest. "I will be your shield, but you must be the sword," she says gravely. "And when the chance comes to strike, you must take it - for there will only be one chance."

-------

She vanishes, leaving the group standing around Ketheric's body in a baffled little circle.

"Cheerful sort, isn't she?" Wyll says dryly.

"I feel inspired already," Hector comments, and runs a hand down his face with a sigh. "You know, I wish I knew her name. Or anything about her, really."

Karlach snorts. "I dunno. Real air of mystery to just show up, spout cryptic bullshite, and then vanish again. Always leave 'em wanting more, right?"

Hector rolls his eyes at her, but the comment does elicit a slight smile in spite of himself.

[miumiumandoodz]

This might be a hella hottake but here we go

Resident Evil has always been about corporate greed and an allegory to capitalism but Resident Evil 5 underlines that the whole conception of Umbrella is also an allegory of colonialization and white people led corporates robbing an indigenous land out of its resources. These silly, quirky white British men learned about the existence of a "progenitor" virus in the depth of Africa that may lead them to some sort of idk, some kind of a revolutionary agent to humanity that will change the world forever. They learned about the virus' history, that it led an ancient civilization to glory -- and demise, and somehow, knowing the hunger for power and greed were the cause to its downfall, these silly British men, with the confidence of a typical white man, thought they can do it better than this old African civilization once they study and develop the virus. Thus them building labs in Africa, thus them claiming these cute lil' flowers that are the host to the virus, thus Umbrella, thus Racoon City, thus Sheva's tragic backstory and thus the outbreak in a conflict area with images that is too close to reality.

I get that in some ways it is controversial -- because our focus is directed to the title's lead, a common white dude with a quest of revenge because his (white) gay nemesis killed his (white) not girlfriend, and he has to put a stop to his nemesis once and for all (and conveniently, white gay nemesis has something to do with why the setting is suffering an outbreak and all of that other degrading shit). I'm okay with this whole plot. This is what made us love the entire RE franchise in the first place (especially if you're an OG beeebee llike me). It does put a crucial step in Chris' whole character development. In fact, a lot of people wish there could be more to this too. But if we're considering remake in this time and age, then Sheva's story needs to be held in the same importance as Chris'. And it's not only Sheva, but characters from the African BSAA branch have to be more vocal about their whole ordeal too. We need someone like Josh to share more of his point of view. We need a more sympathetic angle as to why Kijuju is experiencing an outbreak and how the plague affected some of traditional communities of the area -- but not just as something we read on files, but as something that is experienced by the characters. Files are sooo easily missed and it depends on people to want to read it for context, and if you're the type who don't read files then yeah, the game feels just like you're playing as a white dude gunning black people. Sure RE5 is about Chris vs. Wesker and the whole Jill is brainwashed against her consent drama. Yet, we can't just make the whole allegory to indigenous land corrupted by white colonialization and (white) corporate greed a mere backdrop. It has to hold the same importance -- because say what you will about RE3make, it does put more emphasis about how greed caused all the shit that is happening, if that isn't already obvious from the OG games.

I do have some notes with RE5 if a remake is coming but I think that making the white colonialization allegory more in your face rather than just stuff you have to piece from the files will add the impact needed to make RE5 redeemable.

[wheucto]

BFDIA 13 weheoehoeho

extremely long post with spoilers under the cut

This is a French bakery. This implies that France used to exist at some point, specifically 1338 in the BFDI calendar.

This doesn't necessarily have to be the case, though. The Eiffel Tower is French, and this bakery is also French, but French could be an adjective for something else... like a style of food, and the Eiffel Tower represents the food, or something.

Though, it's probably way simpler to assume that France just exists in the BFDI universe. Or has existed at some point.

Also, Gelatin says that it's been "600 years" since the bakery's last time in operation. 600 is a big enough time that I assume it's rounded a bit, but this means that the could take place around 1938.

However, it's been stated that they were in like... 2014 ish before iirc. So it's more likely they just said 600 even though 700 is way closer.

Yeah, in the same episode the highway built by Lewis was made in 2014. This is just a pretty weird line. It's not... that important, so this mistake doesn't really mean much to me.

That, or it's about Gelatin miscalculating it, since this is a pretty easy calculation to make.

It's really funny to imagine BFDIA takes place in 1938, though.

Also, at some point Purple Face says a temple was built in 2763. He was either lying, wrong, or BFDI just does that sometimes.

Also, note that this 1338 bakery looks super modern. BFDI takes place in a super advanced world compared to our time, which is pretty obvious looking at their sorts of technologies. This was ~600 or ~700 years ago, and it looks like extremely modern.

This gives us a possible time as to when Yoyle City was abandoned. While it could have stopped operation before abandonment, why would it still have all this bread in there? At least give it away, or something. They wouldn't just leave it there. This means it has to have happened around the same time YC was abandoned.

Also, this implies YC was abandoned because of evacuation. Why would they just leave all this stuff in there? Why not take it with them? Because they couldn't - they probably didn't have the time. Or the resources to take it with them.

Also, why does Ice Cube feel the need to lick this cake? Disgusting. Doesn't even take it with her. Also, it's been there for half a millenium. Also, she doesn't die. What kind of stuff did they put in that cake? What preservatives are in that thing, to make it last that long?

That, or someone just put it there. Which would be weird. Why put a cake in an abandoned bakery last in operation in 1338, ~600 years ago?

Woo! Yoyle Transit.

Ancient Yoyleans? So this place is ancient?

In our world, "ancient" is like before ~500 AD. That's like... approx. 1500 years ago.

If they use something similar to that, then this must have been built before 500 in BFDI's calendar. It looks super modern...

If it was abandoned ~1338, then this place could have existed for at least 838 years. I assume a lot of advancements would have been made by then, but they definitely had to have had trains by ~500, assuming Gelatin's statement here is correct (that this time period is considered "ancient") and also that ancient means anything similar to what I searched up for the equivalent in our world.

According to what Ice Cube reads on the information panel, Yoyle Transit was the 8th Wonder of the World during its time, and the Science Museum was 2,763 miles away from this station.

2,763 miles is WAY TOO MUCH. This is in the same city. Yoyleland is 2,763 from the original BFDI competition area. That is probably out of Yoyleland, or in its outskirts at least.

It could hypothetically be a part of the same city, since YC is super duper advanced, but it would definitely not be a part of the same city now. And also, what would even have happened to the rest of the city?

Anyways, YC currently contains both this station and the SM, so either this information panel is A. Wrong, or B. using a different form of miles, like... Yoyle Miles or something.

This also implies there are at least two forms of "miles" being used; the Yoyle Mile and the other one we don't have a name for. The Yoyle Mile might have been used in antiquity by Yoyleans to indicate a smaller distance, but the current one the people in the BFDI universe uses a larger distance, comparable to US customary system miles.

Like how the feet measurement the French used and the British used were different, where the misunderstanding of Napoleon's height came from. Except, way more extreme.

[This is a while after I wrote all that. I just realized the number could've been written in a way where Ice Cube misinterpreted it as 2,763. For example, the comma could be the decimal separator instead. Or maybe it was like, 27.63 / 27,63. I know in some places, commas are used as decimal separators instead of dots, so it would be interesting if a regional difference like this existed in the BFDI world.]

Also, these trains are super shiny. They've been abandoned for what seems about half a millenium, but wow! So shiny and clean...

The trains, at least in 1338, run on collagen specifically. Why collagen? I suppose it's like... renewable... given it comes from animals... but that seems inconvenient. Very inconvenient. How much animals do you need to raise to get that much collagen for all your trains?

To be fair, they really upped the efficiency on that fuel source. Gelatin makes the train go pretty dang fast, and far (assuming SM is on the other side of the city), for just one entire Gelatin.

Still though, I wonder where exactly they get all that collagen. If Yoyle City was once a city of objects, then the easiest source has to be other people, right? Just stuff some poor gelatin into that chute, and that'll run it pretty good.

I mean, they probably had Recovery Centers given how technologically advanced the Yoyleans were. Was getting stuffed into the fuel chute a job?

"Bye honey, I have to go get stuffed into the fuel chute of a train at work today."

I mean, I would get stufffed repeatedly into a fuel chute at the train station if it payed well. Hey, it's how the city runs, isn't it?

Also, the demonym used for the ancient Yoyleland people is Yoylean. Fun!

Seems to be an endonym as well, since it's used everywhere in the city.

Also, why does the ancient YC and modern world of BFDI share the same language? It's over half a thousand years! I suppose, if it's as advanced as it is, language might have changed less due to access to ancient videos, audio, et cetera. And also, the rest of the world might not have experienced what caused YC to get evacuated in ~1338.

But still, it's been a really long time. Why is their orthography still recognizable to us as language?

Also, I'm pretty sure GB or someone mentions learning ancient yoylese. If Ancient Yoylese was a thing, then why are most the signs we see in modern day language?

I suppose it's possible the current modern day language of BFDI was then (and might still be) the lingua franca, and Ancient Yoylese is the language that the Ancient Yoyleans spoke which "died out" on Earth when they left.

That, or the AY script we see is like, no longer used or not used frequently. Maybe due to colonization or some other cultural force... Maybe it's used in the Science Museum because of cultural movement to reintroduce the script? Shrug.

strangely beautiful scene.

Yay!!! New afterlife information!!!

This seems like it means my idea about multiple afterlives is incorrect. The underworld (since Pin calls Coiny an overworlder, this must then be the overworld) is a part of the Earth. It's just really deep down there.

She specifically says "Splendid! You have transported my soul the world below."

This sounds like it says the afterlife is one entire place. I guess it could be, but it could also be subdivided into several places, which means maybe it's one afterlife with tons of different places one might go due to cause of death?

Pin tells Coiny to go to "the center of the world." Is this a literal statement, as in the underworld takes the place of core? Or more metaphorical, as in the underworld is just deeper than the crust?

I suppose the underworld could be subdivided into sections depending on cause of death. Does this count as multiple afterlives, or one? I'm not quite sure.

Though, I should note that Nickel said that - since they had died in a similar manner, they ended up in the same place. Why would JNJ have Nickel say that, if it never went anywhere? It implies that dying in a different fashion results in a different place.

Nickel could be wrong, though if he is I assume that they would eventually disprove that. Since they haven't done that yet, it seems Nickel is probably correct.

Also, Pin specifically has Coiny kill her via trash compactor. Does she have any reason to do this, specifically? It implies there could be other "afterlives" or something similar. That, or this is the only way she remembers.

Oh wait, rewatching this she says "only there can the portal open." Which implies either A. the trash compactor afterlife is the only afterlife, and if you die some other way you just don't go to an afterlife B. there are multiple afterlives after all, and this one specifically gives her her size, limbs, and face back, at least as Pin wants it.

Also, do Coiny and Pin have telekenesis or something? At some points, it seems like Pin recited this to Coiny beforehand, but at others it seems like she's talking to him in that very moment.

There was a deep voice in the underworld, though. Are there like, guards, or something? Who was that?

Also also, at some point in her speech she refers to her body as lifeless. This implies she's in some partially alive state, which is probably why she's able to tell Coiny this, and remember this?

i liked this part

also, you can literally pull people out of the underworld. interesting. whenever you go aboveground, they revert back to their alive form. does this mean you can keep someone is, say, GB's factory and they'd stay in their underworld form?

man

[thesidestoaconflict]

Middle Ground: Chapter 2

Stepping Stone 2084 words

First Chapter Next Chapter

Two days later- the group needed time to gather up the appropriate gear that a trainer’s journey would need- everything was ready. Hilda and Otto, Bianca and Blaise, and Cheren and Lucian were all ready to head out.

Hilbert had decided he’d walk with them to the next town over, but afterward he’d need to split and head back to his placement work at a lab near Driftveil city.

So, clad in the same outfit as on her birthday- it had been washed and dried; it was her favourite outfit, and she wanted to start her journey off right, Hilda stood a few meters down the street from the Juniper Pokemon Lab, awaiting her friends. She’d fashioned the pretty gem her dad had sent her into a string pendant that was now tucked inside her turtleneck sweater for safekeeping.

She liked to be early to things, knowing she’d end up late if she wasn’t trying to be super early- Cheren, as always, showed up on the dot of when they’d agreed to meet up, and Bianca was about five minutes late.

Cheren rolled his eyes, but the action was free of any actual irritation. And together, they entered the lab.

There was a small kitchen, a sliding glass door to a massive garden protected by a glass dome, a small library, a room with the door shut tightly that was probably full of light sensitive equipment, and finally, they found Professor Juniper, holed up in her study, one biro stuck behind her ear, evidently forgotten as another was in her hand, scratching notes onto a dollar store ring-bound notebook.

She looked up as the three of them walked in the door, glanced at the digital clock on her desk, and bolted up.

“Sorry! Sorry, completely lost track of time!” she exclaimed, jumping up from the ancient chair she was sat in, and leaving the notebook open on her remarkably tidy desk, “How are you three feeling this morning?”

“Great,” answered Cheren, as all three of them were ushered out of the study and into the garden-dome-thing, and the girls echoed the sentiment, “Are you alright, Professor Juniper?”

She laughed briefly, as they sat down at a picnic-style table to talk.

“I’m fine, don’t worry! Just busy! I’m sure your parents have mentioned I have a bit of a task I’d like to entrust to you three, if you’ll take it on,” she responded, leaning her head on one of her hands and finally noticing the biro on her ear, which she promptly tucked into the chest pocket on her lab coat. The three friends feverishly nodded, excited and nervous, “Okay, so, first off, you three know about the basis of my current research, right?”

“I do!” exclaimed Hilda, louder than she intended, “It’s about those new ruins that were found in Desert Resort, right?”

“Yes, exactly! As well as a strikingly similar ruined structure found underwater off the coast of Undella down.” Juniper nodded enthusiastically, “Well, two also strikingly similar artefacts were found on important-looking pedestals in these ruins. Lenora, Hawes, my father, and I are working with Shirona, the old Champion of Sinnoh, to try and translate the texts on these pedestals, but from what we can figure out already, these artefacts are some kind of living thing- at the moment we think they’re pokemon eggs of some sort, but we aren’t sure.”

“Like… that Manaphy thing?” Bianca asked, “I think I saw something about that on the news a little while back…”

“Yes! Yes, pretty much like the Manaphy egg that was discovered! It’s probably not a Manaphy, since these don’t look anything like that egg, but, I’m sure whatever they are must be important to something!”

“So…” Cheren furrowed his brows as he thought, and folded his arms, “You want us to look around Unova for any information about these… things… while we travel? Is that it?”

“Hm, almost, Cheren.” Juniper smiled, “I want you three to hold onto these artefacts, actually. If they are pokemon eggs, they’re more likely to hatch when with active trainers, according to Dr. Utsugi, and he’s the expert on the matter of pokemon eggs!”

Hilda was practically vibrating. Being able to hold onto a piece of important history… to help solve its mystery… it was a dream come true!

Bianca looked intrigued, but Cheren looked… a little sceptical.

“How big are they? They won’t be too difficult to carry around, right?” he asked.

“Oh, no, no, don’t worry!” Juniper replied, reassuringly, “They’re both only a little bigger than a pokeball, actually. So they’ll fit into your bags fine, and they’re both really light, for some reason. And also, Cheren, I’m not going to force you. I won’t take your snivy back or anything like that, it’s just something completely optional. You can change your mind, too!”

“Ah, thank you,” Cheren looked a little embarrassed; possibly having assumed that she might actually ask for the pokemon back if he declined to help with the research, “Have you—”

“Professor, can we see them?!” Hilda butted in, feeling like she was going to explode, “Please?!”

Bianca giggled, and Cheren rolled his eyes once more, both amused by Hilda’s excitement, since it was very typical of her to suddenly get extremely energetic whenever anything related to ancient Unovan history was involved.

Juniper smiled again, “Of course. I’ll just go grab ‘em, okay? Give me a minute.”

And she headed back inside her lab briefly. During the short wait, Hilda was tapping her hands on the table and bouncing her legs up and down, unable to contain her anticipation for this.

Upon Juniper’s return, she’d ended up squeezing her hands into fists so tightly that her nails had made indents on her palms.

“You know, Professor,” Bianca said as Juniper sat back down, a small wooden box in her arms. There was a teasing glint in her eye, and she kept glancing over at Hilda, “I don’t think Hilda’s really all that interested, you might wanna leave this to me and Cheren.”

“No!” Hilda took hold of Bianca’s arm and sank down on the bench, so she was almost lying with her head on Bianca’s leg, though she was holding in a laugh as she added, “Not funny…”

Juniper chuckled, and opened the box as Hilda sat back up.

Inside were two spherical objects. One a piercing white, the other the deepest black imaginable. Almost perfect spheres, save for an inward circular bevel on the white, and an outward circular bevel on the black. The bevels were both the same size, only about two millimetres deep, and on the other side, they were reversed.

Almost like a puzzle, one that could be infinitely rearranged.

Hilda was almost overwhelmed when Juniper passed the things to her first. Light and heavy at the same time. She could hold each one in one hand with very little difficulty. They weren’t warm or cold, it was like they were devoid of a temperature completely. Impossibly smooth. And she understood perfectly what Juniper had meant by them seeming incredibly important, though she couldn’t begin to guess what purpose they might have served.

She handed them to Bianca before she was completely overcome with thoughts.

“Oh!” Bianca exclaimed, and she held up the white one, “This one feels warm!”

She quickly passed it to Cheren.

“Right? Doesn’t it?”

He looked at her oddly.

“No? It’s freezing. What are you talking about?”

“This isn’t the time for sarcasm, Cheren,” Bianca sighed, but he insisted it felt ice-cold to him. “What? Okay, but this one is cold then, too, right?”

She passed him the black one, and a very surprised expression crossed his face momentarily.

“Not at all. This one feels warm.”

“You’re joking.”

“I’m not!”

“Are you both being funny?” Hilda asked, “They don’t feel like anything.”

“What are you saying?!” Both her friends exclaimed at the same time.

Juniper looked puzzled by all three of them.

“I’m saying they don’t feel hot or cold. Not… room temperature either. I dunno how to explain it.”

Cheren shoved the white one into her hands.

“You’re telling me this thing doesn’t feel like a block of never-melt ice to you?”

“No?”

“And it’s not warm?” Bianca added, shooting a look at Cheren.

“No. It’s not.” Hilda replied.

“This is weird.” Cheren muttered, “You two are both being serious, right?”

“Yeah.” Both girls replied.

He frowned. And Hilda got an idea. She handed the white orb back to him.

“Hold this for a minute. Really get a good grip on it.”

He grimaced, but did so.

She could see the tips of his fingers redden from the supposed chill after only a few seconds.

And she reached out to touch his hand.

“Holy shit!” she exclaimed, yanking her hand back and shaking it, “You’re freezing!”

“I told you!” he snapped.

Bianca took the black orb from where it lay on the table, and after holding it for a moment, put her hand on top of Hilda’s, who flinched back.

“That’s so cold!”

Cheren reached his hand over to Bianca’s, who just looked even more puzzled.

“But that feels warm!” he cried, “What is this?!”

They all stopped at once, looking over to Juniper, silently begging for an answer.

“I… don’t know.” She responded slowly, “None of my staff have reported any of this. They all just say they both feel a bit cold, like a stone would. But not… icy. Not warm. And none of… whatever it was Hilda said.”

Cheren and Bianca were both holding onto the spheres they’d said were warm, to fend off the chill in their digits. Cheren had been outright shivering when he’d been holding the white one.

Hilda watched her friends as they held onto the things as if for their lives for a minute.

“Professor, have you any notes on them yet that you could make copies on? I’d be really interested to see what you and the others have found so far. On the ruins, too.”

“Yes, of course. Come with me, Hilda, I’ll get you some copies, and we can get all your PokeDexes fully up to date while your friends thaw out, alright?”

“Sounds good.” Hilda nodded as her friends handed her their Dexes, following the professor back inside the lab, feeling a little disconcerted.

While she waited for Juniper to make copies of all her notes so far, and staple them together into a shockingly small booklet, Hilda couldn’t stop thinking about the artefacts. Was there some weird property in each of them that was giving her friends, oh, who knew, a bizarre allergic reaction?

A small pile of papers in one hand, and a fully updated PokeDex in the other- Juniper carrying the other two- Hilda returned to her friends, who had placed the artefacts out on the table between them and were looking at them apprehensively.

“Come on, guys, they’re not gonna like… bite you.” Hilda sighed, reaching out to pick up the black one, and recoiling for a moment as she got a small static shock off it. She shook her hand briefly before picking both the rock-egg-orb-things up. “Who’s taking what, or am I the only one doing this stuff?”

“I’ll take the black one for now,” Cheren said, “You know how I feel about the cold. So something to keep me warm’ll be nice.”

Bianca stuck out her tongue at him, “I’ll take the white, if you don’t mind, Hilda? We can swap around soon, ‘kay?”

“Sounds good. Don’t drop ‘em.” Hilda teased as she handed them over, “And let me know if anything changes with them. This is super cool.”

“Freezing cool, even,” Cheren added, dryly.

“Who says ‘freezing cool’, you weirdo?” Hilda laughed and he huffed, and started insisting it was definitely an expression and that he definitely wasn’t just being stubborn and refusing to let himself be made fun of.

This time, Bianca rolled her eyes.

After a little while more of briefing, and confirming with Professor Juniper that they’d update her as soon as possible if they found anything, and also agreeing to swap around the stone-egg-things with each other when they met up in Nacrene city- since they’d be together until they left Accumula town, and agreed that time between there and Nacrene would be plenty to get started on some solo research.

They then bid the Professor farewell and hurried off to meet Hilbert at the outskirts of Nuvema town, still making light-hearted jabs at each other.

[enddaysengine]

Zomok (Paths Beyond)

One of my favourite PF2 changes? The Zomok has both the plant and dragon types! Not something that’s strictly necessary, but it feels right. 

Zomoks are either plant-themed dragons or dragon-themed forests depending on your point of view. They are also extraplanar beings, although this bit usually gets overlooked. The assumption is that they come from the First World, having originated in Kingmaker, but crucially they aren’t fey, so they could come from other planes as well. That fey but is also metaphysically important because it means Zomoks who die on the First World won’t reincarnate like most of that plane’s inhabitants. Once they die, they stay dead and their souls move on to the Boneyard. 

Also keep in mind that a Zomok’s demeanour changes with the season. While the exemplars are given as the four western seasons, not every climate and culture recognizes the same patterns. How do Zomoks change in a environment with monsoon and dry seasons? And then what does this mean on a plane where seasons are vastly different from the mortal world? The First World definitely has seasons, but they are likely to follow storybook logic, transitioning suddenly. On other planes, seasons may be more abstract — perhaps  Heaven has a Penance Season and a Hunting Season (Erastil’s doing). What influence would those seasons have?

On last interesting planar note is that Zomoks speak Terran in addition to the more “woodlandy” languages of Arboreal and Sylvan. This makes thematic sense — the zomok’s breath attack is soiled based and dirt it part of the forest — but it also suggests deeper ties to the Elemental Plane of Earth. Consider what allies of grit and loam a zomok’s woodland realm are tied to, even if they forgo typical trade relations. 

When the Whispering Tyrant annihilated Lastwall, he took a Zomok down with it. The spirit of the forest died and awoke as a lost soul on the Boneyard, like so many others. Too many others. The psychopomps quarantined off massive parts of Pharasma’s spire to give them time to sort through the influx of soul, but this also gave the Zomok and opportunity to escape. Now the the powerful but dead dragon is growing an ossified, hanging forest of edge of the spire, daring any psychopomp to try to reclaim it. 

The fey don’t understand death well. They are capable of coming back, their souls reincarnating into another body, but not all residents of the First World are capable of such feats. When the Great Old Dragon, an impossibly ancient Zomok dies, the die decide they are going to have a wake in the Faerie Realms. In their benevolence, they invite everyone to it including several mortal villages from across Golarion. It is a rare opportunity for mass planer travel, the only problem is that the fey’s vision of a wake is very different from a mortal one. 

A lesser noble in the City of Brass has captured a Zomok and holds it prisoner within its forested estate. The Plane of Fire’s burning heat is cooled in this area, allowing the plant dragon to survive unharmed, but beyond that the plane will incinerate it. The Green Mother has tasked an adventuring party to return the spirit back home. Will they be able to pull off the heist of a lifetime and get the Zomok back unharmed?

[kingsbride-moved]

how did you come up with dianthus' design? (original or any of the AU versions is fine!)

This is her initial design (it's not super different from how it is now though!) In addition to being a little based off how I look, I wanted 2 make sure her design was distinct while also being easy to redraw over and over again. I had a sona before her that was too complicated for me to ever wanna do much with her, so I didn't want to repeat that same mistake you see! She started off with a very simple dress but I started thinking it was a little boring, so it later evolved into a sort of "deconstructed" peplos.

She was originally conceived as a daughter of Dionysus, so I wanted to borrow elements from his design. Dionysus has the grape laurels (and grape cloak!), so I took from that. I also thought it would be fun for Dia to be white grapes and white wine, since Dionysus is classic purple (red?) grapes. Also, Dio's worshippers are Maenads, priestesses known for their wild thrashing and tearing things limb from limb (he's also thought of as the god of madness), so I gave Dia's laurel foxgloves as they're a poisonous flower and poison can of course be madness inducing! And the little flowers... I rarely detail them 2 that extent but they're supposed to be carnations, which are also known as Dianthus flowers!

Also, the the fact that she wears those golden bangles on her arms... those come from Theseus and Asterius themselves! It's a simple design element that I really adore bc they serve nooo purpose other than making their muscles look bigger which is so funny.

Also her palette is mostly pink for the sole reason that it's my favourite colour and I think pink and green look lovely together <3

Some other notes: - Dia's earrings that I sometimes draw her with are based off of ancient Greek coins! I've never drawn 'em in enough detail that u can easily tell, but one earring depicts the Labyrinth (a tie to Asterius) while the other depicts an owl (associated with the goddess Athena and therefore the city of Athens, a tie to Theseus) - The lily flower necklace I sometimes draw her with is based off a real clay necklace from ancient greece - Sometimes I draw her with glass beads, this is based more off of Roman jewellery and technically doesn't make sense for the h/ades game timeline (Rome most likely hadn't been officially established yet) but that's okay <3

[quibbs126]

Alright, I mentioned about a week ago that I was working on a character but couldn’t figure out a design, but this morning I finally drew a design for him I liked, so this is Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie

To be perfectly honest, I’m still not sold on the design, specifically the outfit? Actually no, I think the design is largely fine, but the colors of the outfit are what bother me because I can’t get them to look right

Also the hair and dough color make me think this guy’s from Yogurca when he isn’t; in fact he likely predates Yogurca. I just wanted his hair to look like actual blueberry ice cream, and I’ve technically already drawn this character before with a similar dough color, so I transferred it over. Coincidence I guess

Speaking of which, I should mention who exactly this guy is, and he is in fact the original form of the spirit of the Strawberry Jam Sword (ps I’m not sure I’m gonna keep their name Strawberry Jam Cookie, since I realize typically weapons don’t have the same name as their wielders), as well as it’s original creator

I wanted to incorporate that into his sword shown here, the Blueberry…something, I haven’t figured out what exactly to call it. One idea was the Blueberry Buster Sword, but it doesn’t really look like the Buster Sword, nor is that an actual type of sword. I dunno. Back during these days it was his personal greatest creation, and what he would use to fight. When I drew it here, I intentionally wanted to make it look like the Strawberry Jam Sword, given that they both have the same creator. Though I wonder if I made them too similar, given that Blueberry Ice Cream later sees this sword as their great failure

Around 10,000 years ago, long before any of the Ancients, Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie was a blacksmith, as well as a warrior, who would make powerful weapons. What made his special is that he would use his magic abilities to enchant his weapons and imbue them with power. Typically he would use either Dessert Magic or Dark Moon Magic. He would visit the City of Wizards to study their texts and use what he learned in his weapon making. However something to also note is that he tended to be reckless with his magic usage, ignoring the potential dangers of what he uses, so long as it does what he needs. But at his core he always meant well, making weapons for the sole purpose of helping protect other Cookies from the dangers of the world (which could potentially have been dragons, given how far back this is). And all around he was a pretty friendly guy

Then one day, his village gets attacked, and he tries to fight against the threat, only for his sword to be completely shattered with one blow, and his village gets destroyed. This is the event that put him on a downward spiral which would eventually turn him into Strawberry Jam Cookie (again I’m probably not keeping that name but for now it’s all I got). Driven by his guilt and grief (maybe someone important to him died, I haven’t worked out all the details), he decides that he’s going to create the perfect weapon, something that will be so powerful it can destroy any threat, and this is the beginning of the creation of the Strawberry Jam Sword. He becomes obsessed with this goal, making it the only thing that matters anymore, only ever leaving his smithy to go find more magic texts. During this time the blueberries on his head sort of melt and just become part of his hair, as seen with the colored sketch there

He eventually decides that this time, his usual magic isn’t good enough, it was too weak. So in desperation, he turns to Black Magic, uncaring of the supposed consequences. He starts using it more and more, trying for years to create this perfect weapon. And as he uses more and more Black Magic, it corrupts his mind (as well as his dough), making him desire power more and more, forgetting what the original reason was, and caring less and less about other Cookies, frustrated why they can’t see the importance of what he’s doing, and eventually thinking they don’t matter at all

It all comes to a head at some point I haven’t really decided yet, but some particular incident with Black Magic ends up sort of rebaking him, turning into Strawberry Jam Cookie. And eventually, they finish their accursed sword, probably using some blood (well I guess strawberry jam) ritual involving other Cookies

After getting sealed in the sword, they start to lose their mind further, and by the time of present day, Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie is completely gone, not even a faded memory

Originally BIC here was going to be a retcon of Strawberry Jam Cookie, considering that I recognize a lot of the stuff I said there contradicts things from actual canon (the Shattered Kingdom I believe was Dark Choco’s kingdom, and the SJS is in Dragon’s Valley), but honestly this here I think would still comply with what I said before, given Strawberry Jam Cookie didn’t have a real backstory there.

Also right quick I just wanna give backstory as to why I called them Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie. So I originally had a number of ideas for SJ’s original name, of which I’ll list here

Strawberry Mochi Cookie (because strawberries, also I thought it’d be funny if the Strawberry Jam Sword was originally named something like Mochi)

Strawberry Ice Cream Cookie (mostly because Strawberry Mochi Ice Cream Cookie was far too long (despite strawberry mochi ice cream being what I originally intended), but also because ice cream is a type of magic and this character was going to be a magic blacksmith)

Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie (because originally their magic type was going to be Dark Moon Magic, which is blue, so I wanted to make them match, along with ice cream magic)

Ruby Choco Cookie (to tie in with Dark Choco Cookie, making them even more similar and as if the sword is almost a reflection of himself)

Rhubarb Cookie (because strawberry rhubarb pie)

I eventually picked Blueberry Ice Cream because I like the blue (not realizing blueberry ice cream is more purple) and because it creates a contrast with both the Strawberry Jam Sword’s color scheme as well as Dark Choco’s. Also I had the idea of blueberries on their head melting and being what creates that gradient effect their later design has

But yeah, this is Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie

Also side note but I had this funny idea relating to that other picture I had of Dark Cacao, Dark Choco and Strawberry Jam Cookie together, where potentially if this were the canon story or something similar, they release both Strawberry Jam Cookie and Blueberry Ice Cream Cookie, given they’re now effectively different characters, meaning that Dark Choco not only has to deal with one version of the being who brought him years of torment, but two

[dramamelon]

Constructicon Week is here! @constructiconweek

I'll be posting them here as well as reblogging with an AO3 link because they're all short pieces. :)

What Once Was

Day 5: Hook | Plushy Rating: T Tags: Minimal Editing, Canon Blender of IDW1 & IDW2, Snippets of Larger Story, Abandoned & Destroyed City, Haunted Houses, updated as necessary Fic Summary: In a moment of peace that was either the End of the War or a Temporary Truce (no one was quite sure where they stood yet), the Constructicons claimed the shattered remains of Crystal City as their own. So far, no one else had raised a fuss, leaving them free to rebuild as they wished. Chapter Summary: Then Hook stumbled on things that cast an unusual pall over the facility, a tickle at the edges of his electromagnetic field. Note: This is the snippet where I realized what was happening. :)

While waiting for his requested teammates to join him in exchange for sending Scavenger back out to pester Scrapper, Hook wandered a little farther through the halls. They were dim, lit mostly by the hazy sunlight that filtered through the broken roof and shattered windows. He heard the sound of unexplained movement in a room to one side as he passed. Not one for fanciful imaginings, Hook paused and turned toward the open door. He clicked on his headlamp to light up the interior. It wasn't precisely dark without it, but it was shadowy enough to make details less apparent than they could have been.

A few steps inside, his optics were drawn to an unusual object set atop what looked to be an old protoform incubator. His interest piqued, Hook made his way directly to it and felt his ventilation system stutter.

Hook hadn't seen the like in a length of time he preferred not to think about.

Laying dusty and alone, judging by the collection of cradles and medical machinery used only for sparklings he was quickly becoming aware of, it was probably a cherished item forgotten in the rush to escape incoming doom. How it survived near fully intact was a mystery that would likely remain unsolved. And it would also go no further than one of his own subspace pockets. The delicate and finely woven cybertitanium epidermis of the ancient stuffed sparkling toy—an ill-proportioned cyberhound with long, flopping audials—would not survive the rough handling his teammates would bestow upon it.

He hadn't quite managed to tuck it away when his seclusion was intruded upon, Scavenger seeking him out to identify yet another broken bauble pulled from the devastation. "Hook!" Scavenger called out as he scampered across the room, hands held straight out in front of him and curled around an object Hook couldn't quite make out. "Hook! Hook Hook Hook! You gotta tell me what this is!"

As swiftly as he could without risking the soft toy, Hook shoved it into the subspace pocket at his hip. He turned a slow look on Scavenger, folding his hands behind his back and giving the youngest member of his team an annoyed sigh as Scavenger came to a skidding halt in front of him. Watching as Scavenger tried to still himself, failing to dampen a short run of bouncing on his pedes before containing himself under the force of one arched orbital ridge from Hook.

"Uh," Scavenger started, gone decidedly electro-sheepish if Hook was any sort of judge going by the slump of those boxy Constructicon green shoulders of his. Unfurling his curled hands of the same hue like some sort of flower, Scavenger finally revealed the source of his curiosity. "Do you know what this thing is? It looks important."

Narrowing his gaze on the item, Hook frowned and stepped a little bit closer. He cocked his helm slightly to one side and reached out cautious finger to nudge the item to get a look at one of several other surfaces. Much like the plush he'd only moments before hidden away from view, the item Scavenger held was another ancient sparkling toy Hook hadn't seen in more vorns than he could rightly recall. A strange dip in the flux of his spark had Hook struggling for a nano-klik to compose himself.

A puzzle box meant to challenge the developing brain modules of sparklings as they grew into younglings, perhaps even older depending on the complexity, the toy was missing a couple of pieces. Nothing anyone on his team couldn't easily fabricate replacements for, of course. Still, the discovery had him wondering just what medical facility Scavenger had found for them. His recall of Crystal City was most definitely incomplete, but the toys of sparklings hadn't been common even before the war. Without bothering to tell Scavenger what he'd brought, Hook plucked the puzzle box from his hands and tucked it away with the cyberhound plush. His crane arm lofted and swayed behind him as the thoughts scrolled through his processor like a speedster on circuit boosters.

Holding up a hand to forestall any words Scavenger planned to say in protest, Hook said, "Take me to the place you found it. Mixmaster and Bonecrusher will just have to find us there."