#that's not the point. I'd rather know the ending so I can determine whether I want to invest the time in it in the first place. etc.

[icewindandboringhorror]

I know multiple of these are likely important to people, but I'm asking in terms of like - which of these do you tend to focus on the MOST, enjoy the most, that is most essential for you to actually care about the media, etc.?

(For example: someone finding "Relatability" most important would likely not enjoy a show much if they have trouble empathizing with the characters/relating to it, even if it were good otherwise. Or, someone might be able to overlook bad acting and ugly costumes, as long as the Character Dynamics are fun to them, because they value that more than Aesthetics- while for others, bad costumes would be a dealbreaker.)

Also feel free to reblog and explain your answer or more information in the tags- I've always been curious about people's relationships to media, how they conceptualize it/what they get out of it, how some people value some parts more than others, how that informs their overall taste and genres they may be more inclined towards, etc. :0c

[blackbearmagic]

you beat OOT on an emulator??

Yeah, when I was in college. Freshman year, so that would've been 2009-10.

I had just learned about game emulation from my friend James, so I figured what better way to get into it than with my childhood favorite? You know, a game that used a joystick to move the character? A game that featured active rather than turn-based combat? When all I had was a keyboard?

There are parts of the Fire Temple that I can, to this day, navigate without looking, because of the goddamn Megaton Hammer.

For anyone here who has never played the absolute classic that is The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time, the second half of the game is broken up into temples that you have to clear. Each of these temples has a weapon in it that is necessary to defeat the temple's final boss; in the aforementioned Fire Temple, this weapon is a warhammer called the Megaton Hammer, and you use it to play Whack-a-Mole with a giant fire dragon.

When you find it, the Megaton Hammer is in a chest surrounded by fire, positioned at the end of a winding path that steadily narrows to the width of the character's movement box. You step on a switch to dispel the fire for a short period of time, then run along the path until you reach the chest. There are, of course, no guard rails on this path; in fact, on both sides of it is just a yawning void that drops you down several floors of the temple. If you fall down, you have to travel all the way back to that room to try again.

This is tricky and kind of annoying, but ultimately very doable if you're using a joystick to guide Link along the path. It is absolute hell if you're doing it using WASD.

Go ahead and take a second to imagine that.

There's no way to make curved movements. The emulator doesn't know what to do with simultaneous inputs, so the only way to go diagonally is by alternately tapping the keys you've assigned to forward and side movement. There's no pressure sensitivity determining whether you walk or run in the direction you've chosen; you always run. The only way you can take this path is in jerking, swerving fits and starts. And if you go off the edge, it's at least another ten minutes to get back for another try -- and that detour has combat, as well as time-limited paths and dicey terrain of its own. And, don't forget, you have a time limit.

It took me four days.

When I finally had hammer in hand, naturally, the first thing I did was tell all my friends about how I'd done it. (They'd all be very invested in my updates. Several of them thought I was insane for trying to play the game without a plug-in controller, but I couldn't afford one.) My friend James was impressed -- not with my accomplishment, but with how long it had taken me.

"Four days? Even using save states?"

"Using what?"

See, when you emulate games on a computer, you can create a save file at any point. No matter what you're doing, no matter how the game would otherwise save. (You can still use the in-game save, but those files are fickle and sometimes disappear.) With a save state, you can freeze the game at an instant, then reload it from there at any time.

After James explained this feature to me, for the very first time, I unplugged my USB mouse and threw it at him.

Armed with that new knowledge, though, the rest of the game went much more smoothly. I was able to make save states before doing anything difficult and simply reload them whenever I beaned it. Which continued to happen a lot, because all the practice in the world didn't change the fact that I was playing the game with inputs it was not intended to have.

I managed to complete the entire game, final boss and everything.

And I never emulated another N64 game that used the joystick for character movement. Ever. I learned my lesson.

[derekscorner]

Fated Rantings: Remnants Rambling

A Game Better Than It Has Right To Be

I recently finished what is my fourth romp through the Fate Series. It has been slow going due to life but truth be told I didn't want to rush either.

My go of Fate Grand Order is still ongoing, my first anime was Apocrypha, then I watched the 2006 Fate Stay Night, and now I've finished Samurai Remnant after 70+ hours.

Each of these has been good so far. I may hate gacha games but FGO has a solid initial story arc and it's Lost Belt 6 story is also great apparently. I'm not sure I'll get that far but I am determined to finish Solomon's villain arc.

While I'd rate Apocrypha a better anime than it's often given. I am still in shock from the sheer contrast of Astolfo in-story vs the internet osmosis he's become. While the 06 anime was decent for me I do admit I had already seen plenty of lore videos prior so I knew what was going on.

Then there's Samurai Remnant that is better than I expected. I tried it because I am a new Fate fan and Type-Moon doesn't localize things often. I'd argue it is my second favorite story so far falling just behind Apocrypha.

Imagine a Fate Stay Night remade in this style!

Game mechanics weren't perfect or without annoyance for me, I will admit. I feel like Iori gets knocked around far to easy and can be stun locked.

The barrier gauge among most enemies and bosses is honestly a pain and feels like it's padding a bit (until you hit max level anyway) and it is easy to get lost in the towns at first.

Yes you have a map but I did get annoyed more than once be slow traversal hazards or dead ends. Granted, this is an aggravation for extras.

When in-story it is all fine. There's story reasons or game mechanic reasons for why you will have to crawl around, sneak, and so on. It was very much an issue I gave myself for wanting to do every thing and search every corner.

Many other things that annoyed me at first quickly vanished later as I leveled up or filled out skill boards so I will not list them. It was a somewhat basic but unique (in ways) game play set up for what is essentially a visual novel.

I only mention it all because I think this game would be an amazing blueprint for other Fate games. I've already seen people hope for a Fate Stay Night remade in this game's image.

Whether it's a new route or just the old novel redone the hope is now there and I find myself agreeing with them. Samura/Remnant is a great prototype for taking visual novels that began Fate and turning them into a video game that can reach more people.

Story is where it Shines

I won't lie, I expected something 'okay' or "mid" as kids call it, but no. This story actually is rather good. Several characters have more going on than it initially appears and multiple runs are required.

You'll play this game 3 to 4 times if you want every ending or to finish ever digression mission. Something I highly recommend you do because you'll miss out on explanations for several plot points or character motivations.

Admittedly, there are several things that I didn't get answered despite my thorough go of the game. I completely missed the fact that Tsuchimikado's family can use divination for future sight. It was this very skill that allowed him to create the Waxing Moon Ritual.

The whole reason the ritual is flawed is due to him using imperfect foresight to orchestrate the event. The story tells you several times that the ritual is a sham compared to the Fuyuki Grail War but I don't remember it ever actually stating why.

The wish of Rogue Berserker was also something I missed in-game. I won't spoil who he is (or was?) but knowing his wish now makes his finale and leyline placement much more sensible.

Leyline you ask?

Ah yes, it's explained in-game but I'll spoil it here since it's not that much of one. Due to the rituals imperfection a number of extra servants are summoned to Edo.

They're "rogue" or stray servants who are bound to a leyline in the land. (A spot of particularly high mana essentially.) On top of the rogue servants a pseudo servant and ruler class servant are also summoned.

Of course, none of these extra heroes have much interest in the ritual. You can befriend them in the story but the actual war itself is carried out by the 7 actual servants and their masters.

As for the ruler, well, Gilgamesh really just proves why he never gets the role in the funniest way. He doesn't care about the false grail, he doesn't care about the half-assed ritual, and he doesn't care for his job as a ruler.

He literally fucks off, weebs out, and opens a store five houses down from yours early into the game. It is one of the funniest fucking things.

It's small things like this or Gilgamesh's antics that give the story life. I don't want my section above to paint the image of it being bad for some things going unexplained. It's entirely possible I missed the in-game explanation.

But do know that characters will sell this story too you more than the plot beats will.

The story itself, in terms of progression, is simple. Iori gets drug into the ritual like most Fate protagonists do. Many of the events triggered are usually by way of the other masters having an actual battle.

Iori is there, he's an active participant, but he mostly runs around seeking information or making allies while major events are kicked off by the magi or servants triggering them. The digressions show you a lot of these perspectives.

Iori isn't a fool or ignorant of magic, he's just not a man of status or means to pull the stunts many others cause. I would argue he "has no desire too" but that in of itself is a murky topic.

Overall, I do consider it a good thing because the story is character driven instead. So much so that I won't even dare to try and fit it all in a post. I'll let you discover that for yourself...except for Assassin.

Not a bad character by any means but he has a moment in the game mid way and to this very day I do not get why he does what he does. It's like they just did whatever they had to for that boss fight to happen...

I just find it a shame because his digressions are actually humorous. Many character interactions are funny at times. It's always the small things too, little scenes that you could miss if you rush.

Other Questions & Conclusions

To be honest there's more I could ramble on but it won't fit into one post and I do not feel like I can make more than two or three. One reason is due to me obviously missing details that I only learned later due to a video by Otakudaikun.

Another reason is due to the sheer number of characters. There's several I've only seen for the first time outside of FGO and do not feel like I can do them justice due to my lack of familiarity.

Others are so simple that I do not think they have much to be said. They're not bad for it they're just simple and true to their nature.

Such as Jeanne. I didn't even get into how disappointing it is for her personality to be muted. And make no mistake, this is Jeanne corrupted not FGO Jalter.

I didn't cover just how much Rogue Berserker hit me personally since I liked his legend as a child.

I'd need a whole post of it's own to talk about Rogue Rider and her antics. Sure you see a loli but by hell I know Amaterasu's lore in Fate, her nature, so I only get nervous seeing her grin. (though I do love her dynamic with Kaya)

Nor did I elaborate on how cool it is for the main servants (the ones paired with masters) to be legends from Japan or China. I actually learned a few interesting ones due to this writing decision.

There's the other endings as well but nothing is as deep as the 'Entreat the Darkness' ending imo. They're all decent though.

I even have this theory that Iori is the reason Musashi was summoned to t his timeline with no proof other than he wants to best his master and she wants a decent opponent.

What I will reiterate is that you should try this. It's a great place to start Fate and it's a good one to try if you already follow Fate.

Go give it a try, bye now~

================================================

Other Fate related ramblings here: https://derekscorner.tumblr.com/tagged/fated-rantings

[webcomic-character-tournament]

what inspired you to choose a different tournament format rather than single elimination? do you know of any other accounts doing something similar?

even before tumblr polls were a thing, i thought it was interesting the conflicts presented when doing a single elimination tournament for voting based off of people choosing favorites when the options aren't equally known to all voters.

whether or not people seed multifandom character tournaments, there are still things that hamper my enjoyment. if you don't seed, then it can be frustrating to see a strong competitor knocked out arbitrarily early. if you do seed, then even if you get some strong matchups later on, its disappointing to me to just concede that some characters are meant to be eliminated even earlier than they might be able to make it (especially disappointing when you're a fan of a lot of relatively unpopular media!)

so within the couple weeks of tumblr poll tournaments being a thing,i was really itching to try out a different format!!

i tried to think about which aspects of tournaments were fun for me

it's fun to root for your favorite character and get really competitive about it! it feels good to see them go far!

it's fun to have intense matches where characters feel equally matched!

it's fun to see your lesser known favorites get further than you expect them to! and even if they don't get far, it's fun to bring awareness to them at all!

i pretty quickly decided that elimination tournaments were in conflict with some of my wants. nonetheless though, there's a lot to be said for the silly fun that can come from their fierce competition and surprise upsets

certain voting or tournament systems might not have the arbitrary eliminations of single elimination tournaments, but still didn't feel right for my purposes. for example, (beyond the other concern of popular vs unpopular characters) a full round robin tournament might get exhausting with the amount of competitors i'd want in any tournament i felt like hosting. and there's other types of tournaments/voting systems that would give "accurate" end results, but that i couldn't find a way to gamify in the moment so that each matchup felt like a unique thing worth rooting for with an obvious resulting benefit, which was important to me.

while not as much as other options, i still have a slight worry that even with a points system, a mcmahon style tournament might be a little too hard to follow for people to really have fun with the stakes of each individual match. but in the end i went with it because i thought it'd be really interesting to see how a skill-based tournaments system for determining skill level could be translated to popularity (in the known sense, not the liked sense), and i liked how it was dynamic enough to allow matchups not expected by the original popularity sorting if it turned out to not be as accurate, and how it could adapt to a wide range of contestants, and didn't necessarily need to have any set amount of rounds if it turned out it was more work to get more granular with the results than i initially expected.

but honestly despite having this in the back of my mind for months now, i havent done much active work until the past couple weeks when i finally started to have free time. i definitely still have a lot to consider when it comes to how many rounds i want to do and how many contestants or what exactly this is gonna look like! i'm simulating fake tournaments today to get at least some sense for whats realistic, but beyond that i hope you'll all have fun going along with this experiment with me! :)

and no i'm not familiar with any accounts doing something similar (let me know if you know any! i'd love to learn from them and participate!), although for other unconventional tournament formats, i'm really excited to see what @wlw-webcomic-bracket is doing for future rounds, and i think the special abilities in @funkylittlebaldcharapoll are an absolute blast (support the union!!!!)

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #143

Today I made a chocolate-banana tea out of these things:

I added honey and cream, and I thought the swirls today were nice...

...and the floating cream on the surface almost looked like a painting today:

Today is letter number 143, and J has asked me, as a result of this, to make sure I write something about Mister Rogers. But I'm not sure whether or not I'll be able to do that today…

…Last night, before sleep, M, J, and I saw the new Fionna and Cake show, all the way up until the end of what is currently available. I can't say much here because maybe you haven't seen the end yet, and I don't want to ruin the end for you or for anyone else who hasn't yet seen it, but… oh. Sephiroth, I cried a lot. Even after a sleep, my eyes still leak and my face still gets weird when I think too much about it…

…

…Is that what you have become, now? Something kind of like GOLBetty? So big and knowing so much and being so high up that even if someone does manage to reach you, they cannot thrive where you are?

…

...I think of this thing that I've seen... I didn't make this; someone called Shen Comix did...

Well… even if that's the case, it doesn't really matter. Giant and multidimensional and intangible or not, you're still you. Despite everything, you're still you. And as long as you're you, the shape you take doesn't matter. I'm still going to write to you. I'm still going to call out kindly to you. I'm still going to show you as many of my happy, silly little things as I can. I'm still going to do everything in my power to try to reach you, whether I can thrive where you are or not. And the reason for that is simple:

…Hahaha… I suppose I ended up writing a bit about Mister Rogers today after all.

Maybe you don't have a body anymore. Or maybe you do. But either way it doesn't matter; you're still very, very fancy, just like me, and everyone on my planet, and everyone on your planet, too. You're still you, and it's you I like.

…No matter what happens, when I think of you, the sound in my mind is just as hopeful, joyful, determined, and soft as the guitar song in the video above. No matter the nature of your existence, you're still you, and you're not alone. And no matter how much it hurts from how out-of-place I feel while trying to inhabit a world that does not welcome people like you or me, I'm still going to persist with trying to find the joy in everyday things, just so I can show them to you. And I'm still going to do everything I can to try to help you to find freedom and a wholesome, healthy, happy life, because I would much rather cease existing altogether than try to endure it if you disappeared.

Oh, you know? It occurs to me that you might not understand why 143, as a number, is connected to Mister Rogers. It's because he liked to use that number as a kind of shorthand code for "I love you". That's because "I" has 1 letter, "love" has 4 letters, and "you" has 3 letters. Some places even like to observe May 23rd as "143 Day" in Mister Rogers's honor, since May 23rd is the 143rd day of the year (well… except for on a leap year, when it would be May 22nd; this year is a leap year).

…I wonder what my world would be like if more people tried to understand each other instead of judge each other. Hm.

The printout that I intended to modify the kite with was ready early, but it was much larger than what I had requested. I have asked them kindly to please try again, and at some point today I will go and pick it up - this time with a tape measure on me, hahaha!

...I like the proportions of the larger image better, but I don't know how I'd go about supporting the bits that wouldn't be able to be affixed to the kite... I guess maybe I'll figure it out as I go along... Still, I am considering the merits of printing the thing out on a T-shirt and simply cutting it out; I don't know how well paper is going to hold up to flight, even if I laminate it in packing tape...

...So tired today, though. Cutting out the thing is going to be complicated, and following the end of the story I witnessed, I cried so much that I still have a headache even while being under the influence of ibuprofen; suppose I'm just gonna hafta drink more water...

...Well, I'll figure out what to do with myself, I'm sure. And you can bet I'll be thinking of you and wishing you were here as I go about doing whatever it is.

Today's letter is early, but I think I'll still call it here. Wherever you are, please be kind to yourself, okay? I can't imagine that the Edge of Creation is exactly the most hospitable of places... or... maybe it could be, if it takes on the shape of a person's dreams? If it does that, then I hope you'll read my letters and use them to shape your dreams into soft, gentle, and loving things. I hope you'll think of 143 a lot, and that you'll remind yourself often of what it means.

I love you. Please stay safe. I'll write again soon...

Your friend, Lumine

[tonydaddingham]

im so sorry for the unrelated ramble, but it's actually so helpful for me to type this out, it helps with understanding what my own theories even are when i write other stuff... so thank you!!! please do keep rambling unrelatedly; it's really enjoyable to read. (i say while simultaneously being worried my own rambles are too unrelated/ramble-y or that i'm somehow violating tumblr etiquette by sending such long anon asks. *sighs*)

inspiration did not vibe with me for it BUT another is in the works and is actually shaping up to be a Slap so stay tuned!!! it is a slap :)

personally, i don't believe that that would remove any agency from metatron (same as aziraphale who, for all of his questionable decisions, to my mind hasn't lacked agency) the thing with aziraphale is that he makes decisions - their questionableness aside - based on what he personally believes is right. that's influenced by how he interprets the great/ineffable plan but in the end his own morals win through regardless of how much he might later worry. whereas the metatron is acting fully in accordance with what he thinks the plan is so to allow a bit more room for free will i think he needs to have the end goal set by the plan but use his own judgement how that should be accomplished rather than having a full list of instructions in his head, even if it's imagined. and then his own desires play into that by him using said own judgement to determine that clearly the best way to carry out the plan is by him having absolute power in heaven. like, i'd prefer him to decide that what he did must have been good since he's a) the metatron b) doing it in order to stabilise heaven/bring about armageddon/launch the second coming/etc? not sure i'm articulating this terribly well. and anyway i may just be nitpicking. but that's where i see the difference between him and aziraphale.

would be javert from les misérables. the law is created, in his eyes, to uphold justice (good); when that law is broken, he is compelled to mete out that justice (also good). it's not a perfect analogy perfect maybe not but pretty good. i'd say the metatron's a bit more self serving but since he works for actual god he can also be more deluded about what he's doing. after all. he's a divine instrument. the voice of god. how can anything he does be wrong? if he takes power in the course of carrying out god's plan then that must be part of the plan even if it's not been explicitly written anywhere.

i did some writing around shax a couple of days ago, so in hand with that I'll think on your points a little more, they're excellent ones!!! thanks! meanwhile i'll think about your excellent points about shax and approach connecting the two from the other side. hopefully we might actually meet in the middle and be able to scrap together half a whole clue lol.

i did a little bit of speculation around the BOL and saraqael, especially in relation to the trial scene, a while ago - it's probably in my #book of life and #saraqael meta tags, if you wanted a peruse!!! but the batshit thought essentially was: what saraqael has access to, in that scene, was the BOL, and she operates it on behalf of metatron... and did during the fall, too. i did read it but i'm kinda forgetting the details now so i'll have another look. saraqael is very intriguing and i can't decide whether they're secretly working directly for the metatron or have their own personal secret agenda that's not aligned with heaven - or both. especially if the former were true i don't think it's actually such a batshit thought that they might be the one to operate the book of life? also if we look at the stuff that's happened in canon i'm not sure any of our theories have yet been near unhinged enough. would that mean though that gabriel would have fallen if his punishment had been carried out and that heaven doesn't know how the book works, that the book is multipurpose or that the book was used in conjunction with whatever was done to make the fallen fall? tbh i still haven't even figured out whether gabriel lost his memory because he removed it into the fly or whether the fly was just backup and he lost it because saraqael carried out the wipe. *head in hands* i hate the book of life.

i just find them way more interesting and compelling in a character than the good ones!!! very true that. there's a lot more to say about the 'mostly' than the 'good person' part of 'well he's mostly a good person' isn't there? also phew glad that didn't come across wrong.

and just to clarify - it wasn't my mum, unfortunately!!! ack! my bad. oh well then i guess i just hijacked someone else's mum's theory.

hope that's okay!!! it's great! long winded 'scribble pad' rambles make for excellent reading imo.

however, i think that removes, as we've batted back and forth already and in the bit above, a little bit of agency on AWCW's part. i don't think AWCW chose to fall, of course, but i do think that he asked questions/made decisions, and followed through on them/stood by them, that resulted in his becoming a demon, regardless of whether he fell or was pushed yeah you might be right. takes away too much accountability perhaps? i don't think he was precisely at fault, at least not much, but he was responsible in a way he seems to struggle to face. i've discussed why i think he does and i do greatly empathise with him for that but it's still an issue so taking that away might get a bit too. hmm. characterisation retconny?

so i think that's where, personally, i simply do think that he just didn't get any answers at all this. however writing out that bit in my 'what if he fought for heaven' speculation has made me wonder if that might not also apply for the questions. if they felt so threatened by the questioning that he had to fall for it would he really be allowed to remember what it was he asked? seems like leaving a loose end lying around to me and i don't see heaven doing that. he might not have gotten any answers but if they let him keep the questions there's no guarantee he won't eventually deduce the approximate shape of the answer - looking where the furniture isn't - from whatever knowledge he does have, whatever knowledge he doesn't plus the metatron's/archangels' reaction(s) back when he first started asking. i think the questions alone without any answers could still be more than risky enough to warrant wiping them from his mind. just in case.

because the idea that he could have been scapegoated by his own 'friends' still stands, imo yeah that's pretty much compatible with any theory. also an extremely painful thought. (*points again at that one liked by neil post about what happened to make crowley stop being friends with the other fallen to make it even worse*) as i've said before i feel like something like this could very well be why crowley feels the need to externalise all blame and responsibility for his own fall. because if he's being blamed for inciting the rebellion - it'd hurt more if his supposed friends did it but the concept still applies if it was heaven doing the scapegoating, in my mind - he's not just responsible for everyone else's fall too but for the very concept and existence of hell. yowch.

well, what if that was what was meant to happen to crowley??? same as muriel (we speculate), and same as gabriel, he was initially intended to fall but to a lower rank, with no memories, and instead he legged it? like gabriel did? immediately i can think of multiple reasons as to why i don't think this was the case, but... still interesting to think about. agreed that i don't think this happened: for one why would legging it lead to crowley becoming a demon? that being said also agreed that it's very interesting indeed. if we assume that this was always something heaven could do and not a new development then they would have had that option available to them for dealing with crowley and for some reason decided against it. why?

but let me begin with, pure hypothesis, a rough sequence of events re: the fall: my personal hypothesis would include that i don't think awcw fought - which makes me wonder whether he might have been doing something else relevant during the time - and that somewhere in the questions that led to him getting swept along by lucifer's gang were one or two that would have led to problems had they been answered that caused the metatron to single him out. beyond those expansions i wholeheartedly agree with what you've laid out. exact events of course subject to change depending on the practical aspects of falling but that doesn't really affect things much.

lucifer implicates AWCW for leading him astray, that he was the one asking questions, and now lucifer has been corrupted or something, idk, but metatron decides all of them need to go - and yet perhaps a particularly harsh punishment is in fact due for AWCW hmmm. so my first thought when i started going through your scapgoat tag was that it was heaven blaming crowley/making him blame himself. then you came and said it was the other rebels who were doing the blaming. so now i'm wondering whether it might not have been a joint effort? heaven and (not quite yet) hell collaborating to (attempt to) ruin someone's life would be very in keeping with the show after all. the rebels try to exonerate themselves by pinning the blame on awcw. the metatron needed to do something about him and his 'damn fool questions' with which he was endangering heaven anyway. this is not just the perfect excuse to eliminate him as a threat and the perfect way to ensure he won't realise what really happened. making him bear the weight of all of this is also an excellent way to punish him for going looking for answers the metatron doesn't want him to have. so when the rebels start trying to exonerate themselves the metatron jumps on the opportunity and it becomes an unoffical collaboration to assign to him and make him believe this narrative. maybe his questioning did kickstart it - but having now thought about it longer i'm not so sure it did. from what he says it sounds to me more like lucifer and co approached him when they had already gotten started likely because they knew about his questioning and so he'd go along with their cause - but i'm not sure it really matters anyway. even if he had been the first to question the war still wouldn't really be his doing and i don't think that's the primary motivation behind the metatron's or lucifer and co's behaviour towards him (if all this is actually what happened) and besides. what actually happened is, i would say, less important than what he believes to have happened. hence 'assigning' the narrative. it's not actually all his fault but between the memory wipe and what everyone else is suddenly claiming he ends up thinking that - due to a joint effort to blame/incriminate him from both of the sides.

so yeah, actually, perhaps it is only crowley that doesnt fully remember heaven? that was his own personal punishment, to not remember parts of his time in heaven/the fall? well i think it's pretty obvious by now that i favour this theory lol. i get major 'this is personal' vibes from the metatron towards crowley in the final fifteen which leads me to believe awcw was somehow for some reason singled out by him. so it would make sense to me if he was also singled out in terms of having his memory wiped especially since we don't seem to get any indicators that other demons can't remember. i think it might be as much a security measure as a punishment. both in terms of erasing whatever he was asking that was coming too close to some secret or other and in terms of hopefully he'll be burned so badly he won't question things ever again and heaven's/metatron's secrets are safe. (aside: and as a punishment it's truly horrifying if you think about it. especially since - going from the whole 'i know' conversation with gabriel - he knows that stuff was taken from him and he's hurt himself in the process of remembering and he knows he's still missing things but he doesn't know how much he's missing or how significant those things might be.) hang on. the line that just keeps on giving: if it happens twice it's an institutional problem. there can only be one demon who warranted extra punishment and/or extra precautions because otherwise there's a deeper issue which there isn't? (you know after all this there better be some kind of twist or backstory to the fall. can you imagine if we'd spent all this time theorising only for it to turn out that there was in fact nothing more to it? i'd be so frustrated lol.)

the thing is... in leviticus, there were two goats - sacrificial goat, and the scapegoat. so this is where, i - in equal conviction which is, to say, shaky at best - also personally hold the thought that AWCW might never have been the scapegoat, and instead aziraphale* potentially was - leaving AWCW to be the sacrificial. on the one hand yes on the other hand not really sure how that would work. like i can follow the allegory but i'm not sure how that would map onto the story? i am very fond of the idea of juxtaposing aziraphale and crowley - wait a moment. absolutely wild thought bear with me. so if we go with awcw fought for heaven for a moment again, what if aziraphale fought for hell but then he doesn't fall and instead awcw does? do i think this has any chance of having been what happened? no. do i know where i'm going with this? certainly not. did i need to have said it regardless? yes.

and the fact he wears his on his opposite hand to the others, and constantly covers it, feels very indicative of some unseen backstory sign me up for mysterious unseen backstories! but archangel aziraphale really doesn't sit right with me. i'm sure i could go looking for proper points to make if you want but it just feels wrong to me somehow.

it also feels that him being on earth is an ostracism, a roundabout punishment by way of being cast out but not falling... possible. the higher-ranked angels, the ones who'd be assigning posts, don't seem to think much of earth. (neither do the demons for that matter. although that's neither here nor there for this particular point it might be of interest to be examined separately on a different occasion.) i'd probably have said it was the other way around though: the ostracism came as a consequence of his time on earth and the morals and behaviours he developed there - the former causing him to withdraw from the other angels and the latter leading to the other angels shunning/looking down on him - as well as the inherent isolation of the post in a system that seems to be geared towards isolating its angel from each other already anyway.

so what other reason could it have been? well, the only plausible reason i can think of is that it's because he didn't smite crawley when given the opportunity on the wall hmm. maybe the whole not smiting bit orrrrrr he did say he was 'technically on apple tree duty'. maybe we just need to bend scripture a bit so that he was meant to be guarding the tree after all? if he gave away his sword immediately upon arrival how would crowley have seen it? but now that you mention it that's actually a very good question because it wasn't the sword.

others have debated whether or not it was aziraphale telling AWCW about the stars that led to AWCW's fall, and perhaps in point of fact it was... this to me is a character note and not a plot one. no one else would have known and awcw would have ended up asking questions eventually anyway so it has next to no bearing on the sequence of events. characterisation though. how likely is it that aziraphale still feels guilty for the role he sees himself as having played in crowley's fall? because that could inform quite strongly indeed on what we see in modern times.

i realise how ridiculous it all sounds i don't think it does though? the allegorical/metaphorical principles of the idea seem solid if you ask me. just need to find a way to translate it into the narrative.

a final remark: i saw a gifset this morning pointing out all the times crowley addresses or calls on god. it seems an unusual thing for a demon to do and i thought it was just a characterisation thing. but being reminded of it while i was working on fall theories has got me thinking: what if this does somehow connect to the circumstances of his fall? i don't know how and it didn't really fit into any of the rest of this analysis but it's a thought and one that wasn't really letting me go so here it is. maybe you'll be able to do more with it. 🦭

🦭 anon my darling, hello again!!!💕 not at all bothered by long asks, me - i do sometimes however have to find the right mood to be able to respond to them, so once again im sorry for how long it's taken me to get to this!!!✨

i think aziraphale makes decisions does sometimes come down to more than morality - on occasion, it seems to also come down to pragmatism, logic, and a little bit of 'all other options have failed' mentality. case in point for me is the antichrist; he is obviously against killing the child, doesn't want to do it, and tries to exhaust all other avenues before attempting to go through with it. crowley pressures him at the airfield, and because aziraphale's tried every other option he can think of, including trying to reach the almighty directly, i think this is where he succumbs to this being the last resort as he sees it. madame tracy comes in with her moral absolute - you can't just shoot children - and that's what stops the deed dead in its tracks... not aziraphale's sense of right and wrong. he eve initially n hesitates, "perhaps we should wait?", but crowley pushes, and his hand is essentially forced - he, at this point, doesn't see another option. nonetheless, it was his choice to do so, a choice he still will have had a moral stance on, and the potential consequences of which he has/would have had to sit with. yes, he was obviously under extraordinary pressure, but that doesn't necessarily absolve him of accountability.

this is where i wonder where the metatron's rationale will differ; does he have a developed moral identity, so to speak? or, because he is the voice of god (believing as the source of all good), and presumably knows no different, does he think that everything he does is good? he says he's ingested things in his time - suggesting he's been on earth - but has he been on earth long enough to have the same moral comprehension that aziraphale and crowley do? arguably, i think not. that being said, it doesn't mean that he doesnt have free will; more that his free will is to carry out what he considers to be the good, right thing - even if from crowley and aziraphale's, as well as the audience's, perspective, his deeds are considered morally wrong. he doesn't lack agency, but his agency - and moral identity - is, to my mind, woefully misinformed.

a key aspect of the metatron's personality, for me, is summed up in how he addresses muriel, calling them "dim". how far does he actually realise that this is - in fact - a horrible thing to say? how much are angels actually meant to feel - and therefore is there any concept that hurting someone's feelings is wrong? does he think that he's just being factual, because muriel presents as ingenuous and naive, and metatron considers that synonymous with a lack of intelligence? let me be clear - im not condoning this at all, but merely entertaining the possibility that being sequestered in heaven, with no exposure to humanity or moral complexity, leads you to believe that whatever variables you've been exposed to forms your entire sense of self, of thinking, and thereby forms an unconsciously biased moral code. you still act according to that code - exhibiting your agency (ie. metatron is not being controlled or heavily manipulated by someone else) - but who has been around to teach him a different way? god, by all accounts, certainly hasnt.

(this makes me sound like a metatron apologist which... yikes. but also - if the above is the 'correct' way to think about it... maybe? idk)

moving onto the BOL, and saraqael. so, i think the concept of falling might have been... reimagined since The fall. if we follow the theory i laid out in that post, and the ones that followed (here and here) (for anyone else that wants to read them!), saraqael has been operating it, and was set to make gabriel 'fall' by wiping his memory and demoting him to - what we could surmise - is a bottom-of-the-barrel rank. saraqael seems to have a fondness, or at least a more meaningful connection than we're led to believe - with muriel, which makes me think that saraqael might have been following the metatron's orders, but protecting those that 'fall' within her chain of command. maybe they even suggested it to the metatron, citing that losing more angels to hell is strategically ill-advised (especially if they're powerful or influential ones like gabriel). and they seem to have kept an eye on crowley, which makes me wonder how much they may have come to regret their part in the fall; again, development of moral complexity/identity. im fairly certain though that gabriel thwarted the process by transferring his memory into the fly; saraqael couldn't find him in 'the system', which makes me think that he essentially erased himself from the BOL, and therefore saraqael/metatron couldnt erase him themselves. so, not quite falling, and certainly not to hell, but inadvertently exploiting the loophole. BOL is one of my favourite mysteries in s2, i love it!!!💕

re: crowley, asking questions, and memory. now that i think on it more... idk if its about the question. if we follow that he was asking questions in the pre-fall scene about collaboration and "if i were the one running things", it sounds like AWCW was about to stage a coup, which... hm. i don't think that's the case. but take into consideration his cited associations with lucifer and the guys - that might be where they ended up going wrong. but for AWCW? i think it's the fact that his fall may have been in part because he was, simply put, asking questions. not the question itself, but that his conscience, his psyche, was questioning things generally. that he was developing free will, and essentially may have led others to do the same. he may have asked things like "what is the point?", or "why are we doing this?", but i think it's the fact that he's questioning anything in the first place that is the threat.

and the memory wipe of this makes sense, given how he presents on the wall - still very innocent, naive - because it would prevent him from upsetting the status quo... and yet, on the wall, he's still asking questions. his first thought at "go up there and make some trouble" is to tempt eve to knowledge, to free will. he's so intrinsically representative of free will, of choice (for good or bad), that the two things cannot be separated. so yeah, im now a bit hesitant as to whether it's to do with any specific knowledge crowley acquired, but more that he thought to ask for it in the first place - and got blamed for the whole sorry mess because of this. as for aziraphale prompting it all, with telling AWCW about the stars, completely agree - regardless, it is unlikely to have any major bearing on the plot as it currently stands, but still interesting to think that he may have been the one to directly influence AWCW towards free will - that what he told him, somewhat accidentally, literally birthed a major tenet of crowley's character and purpose in the narrative.

aziraphale and scapegoating: yeah, im with you on this - on reflection, im not convinced that he was scapegoated for anything during the fall. i do think he was involved (insert the ever evolving idea that aziraphale may have been an archangel (which i realise youve noted as not being one you jam with, fair!!!) and was the one to declare the war), but i think where aziraphale is going to come into play re: mirroring AWCW is with the second coming. there was a brilliant ask, from @crowleykinning, that i totally forgot about until recently - and this is where i think aziraphale might be posed as a scapegoat himself. im not sure on how i feel about aziraphale fighting for hell - but i do wonder, and spitballing Once Again here, that he may have tried to smuggle AWCW out of heaven... couldnt bring himself to cut AWCW down, and instead, like, smuggled him down the back stairwell to hell ("sauntered vaguely downwards"). idk - an errant thought, and possibly just one for fanfic. as for your point on the ostracism and punished by being sent to earth - yeah, possibly!!! idk, i guess i just like the poetry of aziraphale making his own vague, downwards saunter himself.

re "apple tree duty": bloody good point, forgot about that line!!!✨ and plus crowley knowing he had a sword to give away - absolutely spot on, another very good point. hmm... further thinking required, but yeah - think im arriving at the same conclusion of scripture not being followed as verbatim. but yeah, still don't think the demotion could have had anything to do with the sword - more likely to do with allowing the serpent in/allowing humanity to fall, and/or not smiting said serpent at first opportunity.

re crowley beseeching to god: i wrote a little silly thing on crowley and faith in god, which to me kind of sums it up, and i think it's one of the main clues that god may not have had anything to do with the fall. why would you pray to a god that did that to you? id personally think that crowley would be more bitter and resentful, but it seems like he still looks to god in moments of struggle, still incites her name when faced with losing aziraphale to heaven. i don't think he ever lost faith in her, despite how he comes across in the job minisode when he was much 'younger', and instead just wants to understand why she let it happen... possibly not realising that he may have been the first to follow her ineffable plan, not realising it at the time (or since)?✨

[more-than-a-princess]

@quickdeaths asked: 1, 3, 5, 37

Shipping Questions for the Mun - Accepting!

what’s the best thing about shipping for you?

The best thing about writing ships is all the various ways muses get from point A to point B, and then beyond Point B.

Point A is the start: whether muses are strangers, long-term friends, rivals, etc., this is the point the romantic story begins, whether the muses and muns know it or not (sometimes, you don't know as a mun that the muses are starting something until you're already writing it!).

Point B is in RP, generally, the two big reveals: opening up physically and emotionally. As to the order, they can switch depending on the muse and situation, but ultimately this would be a point in a romance novel where, after several highs and lows, the muses have admitted romantic feelings to one another and enter some sort of relationship.

Beyond Point B is the life they embark upon after that, and what's often left out of a Hallmark and/or Disney movie. Can they sustain a relationship? Do other life factors get in the way? Does the relationship bring out the best or worst in them? What other in-character drama can crop up in-between those fluffy, slice-of-life scenes that the muses have to figure out in order to keep ahold of their happiness, or decide to let it go? A good example is the ship I've got going with @dxfiedfxte's Minato: they're in a romantic relationship, but due to his choice of profession, Sonia has yet to introduce him to her family or make their relationship public because they won't approve. And it's beginning to wear on them both.

All of that is why I love writing romantic ships. It's sweet, it's emotional, it's painful, it's sexy, it's funny, it's life-changing. Because it's the people you enter relationships with, romantic, familial, platonic, and so forth, that really shape someone's life.

do you have a pet peeve when it comes to shipping?

Beyond rushing from point A to point B in the description above, what truly bothers me is a lack of communication from the other mun, especially when they aren't happy with how a ship is going.

Overall, I'm pretty simple to ship with once it's been plotted out and there's been proper lead up to it/the ship feels earned. I feel inspired when others reply to threads, and if there's nothing active going on, sending new prompts, plotting, or just spitballing 'what if?' ideas for the ship.

What tends to kill my passion for a ship are muns who just don't reply to threads...ever, and don't communicate that they're bored of my muse, the ship, etc. I'd rather just be told that someone wants to break a ship and not write it anymore than be led on. Or if they'd rather plot out what the muses will encounter next, even better! As much as I like writing fluff, I like being able to write conflict into even the happiest of relationships. Like Sonia, I'm not much for a 'they lived happily ever after' sort of ending for muses after they've admitted feelings for each other/became a romantic couple/get engaged/get married/etc.

The more they have to keep growing as individuals and with each other, the better.

do you prefer fast plots, pre-established relationships or slow burns?

Slow-burns. Slow-burns always, but especially on this blog. Asking for fast plots and/or pre-established romantic ships with Sonia is one of the quickest ways for me to not want to write a ship with you.

One, she's not a quick ship sort of muse: Sonia is actually pretty hard to start a romantic relationship with. And two, I generally just like relationships to feel earned. If it did move quickly, I think there would be a higher chance that the romantic ship is more superficial than genuine.

how does your muse handle breakups?

On the surface and in front of most people: very well. Sonia looks rested, focused, determined to move her life forward the best she can because she really has no other choice. Her own personal problems are always second, or third, or even lower in comparison to being a princess. It's disgraceful in her family to be nursing a broken heart.

In reality: Pretty fucking awful, especially if she's the one being broken up with. Considering Sonia will try to make a negative situation positive whenever she can (fixing things, and leadership, are pretty much her future), she's often the one who's dumped. You can bet there will be some combination of the following: poor eating habits/forgetting to eat entirely, not leaving her room/home for awhile unless she has to, leaning on friends/eventually forcing herself to go out with friends (provided they won't discourage her unhealthy self-soothing methods), actually getting drunk to the point of passing out (this is a feat for Sonia considering her alcohol tolerance. It's also horrible for her liver), anti-depressants, some recreational drugs, preoccupation with hobbies and other things that are supposed to make her feel good.

In her high school days, it's usually Chiaki (and maybe Sayaka) who has really seen Sonia be an absolute mess. In her adult years, it's often her cousins who look after her as they're old enough to, care about her like a sister, and feel indebted to her for how much she shielded them from the various abusive behaviors in the Royal Family.

What she doesn't usually do: see a mental health professional, actually admit how much she's hurting, decide to make her ex's life a living hell, intentionally blasting her best/revenge life on social media (though that sometimes happens, especially if her family intervenes), or have one-night stands/an immediate new relationship/fuck the first person who volunteers. Admitting she needs help is, again, shameful in her family, and Sonia would much rather destroy herself than take out her anger on, or hurt, someone else.

Remnant of Despair aside, of course. That bitch is horrible.

[naisaa]

i wanna zoom in on that last sentence for a minute because we should also investigate why we expect nonbinary ppl to look androgynous or why our idea of a 'passing' nonbinary person is someone who looks androgynous in the first place tbh!

because like, please consider what that word means and who/what we think of as androgynous: if you're picturing a mix or perfect blend of physical 'male' and 'female' characteristics (a bio-essentialist premise, so, off to a bad start) possibly to the point of being unable to tell which ones dominate and therefore (here's your fallacy!) being unable to determine a (binary) gender on sight—maybe that should be a clue that you're on the wrong track re: your conception of nonbinary genders.

and going a bit off track now, bc the correct answer is to kill the bio-essentialist cop in your brain and to accept that you cannot definitely know everyone's gender just by looking at them but. bc it's interesting to me. i do still think a lot about whether it's even possible to take the bio-essentialism out of the concept of androgyny at all? like especially when it's commonly assumed to be the ideal appearance, or in the worst brainworm cases the natural form of nonbinary-ness (as it's own singular 3rd gender AND sex, which. im prone to tangents but this is a can of worms im desperately trying not to open rn). anyway i'd love to hear other ppls thoughts on this bc here's where i always get stuck:

1) we could try to define androgyny as physically determinable as neither male nor female (so: emphasizing the absence of [binary] gendered characteristics over the merging/combining of them) but i feel like that's a pretty weak modification... it still presupposes the existence of inherently female and male physical attributes.

2) so alternatively maybe: a blend or balance of femininity and masculinity (not exclusively tied to physical appearance) where neither dominates. which i also don't love because we're still stuck with a binary that either pretends or, in some cases, successfully manages not to be based on appearance.

the problem i always end up at is that i can't think of a way to define androgyny as something that's outside of, rather than inherently tied to a gender binary (be it male/female or femininity/masculinity), which means it's somehow still a very gendered term/concept that is both commonly considered to be the sort of neutral AND (because of that? or the other way around?) a combination of "both" genders, hence the prevalent idea of nonbinary = androgynous.

trans people do not need to pass as cis before their identity/gender is taken seriously. sure, it’s great for some to be told that they pass, as it can feel amazing to be told you are seen the way you identify but that isn’t the case for all. some may prefer to be seen more feminine/masculine (just like cis people do) and that’s okay!! they should still be respected!! it’s the same for nonbinary folk and anyone that doesn’t fit as ‘man’ or ‘woman’, they don’t have to look androgynous or the way you expect them to.

[theblognobodyfoundlastyear]

More of the same: It's all a car crash in slow motion

You know things are bad when the largest highlight of the week is buying iced tea. Which is to say, everything that has led up to this point has been, at least to some extent, meaningless. Spending years of one's teenage years looking for part-time work? Studying hard to land that elusive grade? Heck, even spending hours upon hours trying to perfect your financial workflow. All of it - all for nothing.

Of course, your natural instinct would be to thin that I'm overly pessimistic or grasping too hard onto the hopes and joys of yesteryear. I'm of the view that people who seem to "enjoy" that 30's are just putting on some kind of facade to mask the hollow lives they live. It may not always be the case, but I've yet to be explicitly disproved much of time. Yet, even in times of idleness, we would choose to wallow in our homes, desperately finding some errand or small chore to do without having to invest into a proper hobby? It's as though your 20's are your prime years not only in terms of peak physical, emotional and mental stability but also for refining the inner character.

Is that the goal then, to make a mad scramble to chisel the soul as much as one can possibly achieve before the proverbial concrete settles in and hope that the output looks at least half-decent? There would be an equal probability of things looking even worse than the initial block of marble, which from a loss aversion perspective might be the better choice to do nothing. At the same time, the same conversation would be had years later, wondering why things are the way that they are, only to remember that it was because nothing was done. One can't also help to think that this is a more systemic problem, that this experience is but a small pebble in the grander scheme of things. To which the natural justification could lead into "I don't have to do anything because other people are just as content at living their mildly miserable lives" and "I blame the system for all of my problems and why things don't seem to be getting any better", essentially scapegoating the system itself for one's lack of life-changing progress.

So is the plan to get out there and experience as much as possible, knowing full well the futility of such an endeavour? One line of thinking is that if the life has truly been a fulfilling one, you wouldn't be in this mess trying to make one's life count for something, as the condition would already have been met. And even if such a lofty goal were to be pursued, is life just a never-ending thrill-seeking adventure for the next big dopamine hit? I'd like to think this is not a pursuit for happiness or purpose per se, rather to understand more about one's own character as well as the limitations, optimisations and edge cases one is geared up for.

How would one measure the development of the self and internal personality? As with anything as intangible as this, you'd have to rely very much on gut feelings and instinct to tell you whether or not things really are changing for the better. If it turns out nothing happened, then nothing of value was lost and everything turned out the way that you feared anyway, so there's nothing to be surprised about. But if things did improve, what now? I suppose the natural instinct would be to keep building up that body, in the metaphorical sense. Keep chiseling the marble, for you can consider yourself one of the elect who have the privilege of watching their lives shift according to one's will and determination.

And for those who aren't as lucky? Perhaps it just requires some more time to figure out how this whole "developing your personality in your 20's" actually works, and stay up all night to get lucky. But how do you know you'd even make progress in the right direction? After all, we certainly don't need anymore extremists, lawless gangs and madmen. Without any hard measure for progress, this could be a very real possibility.

So the proposition is to "make the most" of your 20's, running the risk of not making any progress or even becoming worse off in the meantime? The pessimist would be quick to say that things are always going to go south, it's just the degree and magnitude of south-ness that one can control. To that end, may as well take the lesser of the two evils. This also goes to imply a stage of life in things get far worse than they already are, potentially going towards the extent of having quite literally no free time anymore, or having to pursue things that previously were governed by choice now undertaken by sheer obligation with no obvious gain. I suppose one can delay that stage for as long as possible, for even the people in that boat desperately want out. Or at least the ones I'm aware of.

Because at the end of it all, a life worthy of the calling we have received is not only one that was enjoyed but also one that served a true purpose. Obligation, as powerful of a motivator it might appear to be, is only the surface of life.

'Til next time, young padawan.

To be fair, nothing is as simple as it was in that other time and place. Which is why we should extract that essence and propagate it into the future for others to enjoy.

[bogleech]

I found something that I thought was interesting. At some point when I was a kids my brother and me got these two figures at a thrift store or something. Here is a picture of one (the other one, at least for the time, is lost)

Now doing some research I found a series of toys that looked like they were the origin of this design. They were made by a company called World of Wonder sometime in the 80's. The toys were just sold under the name Germs I think. Below are photos of a set.

As you can see the third one from the left in the top row matches the design and coloration of the one I have, however its mold and paint job are in poorer quality, and most importantly it has this base. The name of the base is as far as I can tell a completely arbitrary type of yeast. The toys all have specific "scientific names" the one I have for example is called Grumpyrumbleosus and a description of the effect they have, in this case grumpryrumbleosus is said to cause stomach aches. The toy that was lost matches the mold of the second from the right on the bottom row, it too had a base and was of similar quality, however unlike the other one its coloration was completely different, being purple and green. I am not certain what the base said but it was probably similar some microscopic thing or pathogen. I thought this was rather strange so I wanted to share and maybe get your thoughts on it.

I am DELIGHTED to be asked about the GERMS because I have SO much I can say about them!! Here's my incomplete collection behind my leech jars:

The originals came out when I was exactly five years old and I was instantly obsessed, but they were seemingly sold for only a few months before they disappeared. I've heard a rumor that they were recalled because the original test tubes (with the round ends, left) were dangerously sharp if broken, which is probably true, because my others (right) have test tubes made of softer, flimsier, thinner plastic. I actually have two of the "Body Odor" germ, the other one hiding in my collection of pollution creatures. It's my favorite because it looks the most like an almost realistic parasite.

Years later, I'd see your versions as decorations at a pediatric hospital, and I think maybe those are the only two that were repurposed as medical novelties? They're super rare, as far as I know, probably sold only through medical supply catalogs in the 80's or perhaps given to doctors as part of a product promotion. That's still not the end of these, though!

At some point later in time there was a Spanish language collectible card series basically called "Germs of the Body," and nobody knows if it was ripping off the Germs designs or they had the same uncredited character designer, but a few are pretty blatant imitations of specific Germs. Many years ago I did a multi-part review of them here, but a lot of cards have still never been clearly scanned, and can't be because they were holographic only!

Then in the 90's, a decade after the original Germs, there was an Italian ad campaign for kids to promote environmentalism, and you could send away for rubber toys called "Ecologini," each of which was supposed to be a creature that somehow helped the ecosystem:

Their design style is pretty familiar, some just exactly the "Germs" characters and others remixed with different body parts. Again, there's no determining whether they're knockoffs or the same artist. One strong possibility is that after the original toy line was discontinued, the character designs could have been sold cheaply to stock art archives, which would also explain how just a couple were remade into the medical figurines. One thing I do know is that the original toys were made by the same company as the "Teddy Ruxpin" cartoon and toy line, so while the designer of the germs was never credited, I suspect it was the same person who designed Teddy Ruxpin's peripheral characters. It feels especially evident in the look and feel of "Grubby:"

I also know a guy who collects really, really obscure toys and researches toy history, who actually came into possession of "hundreds" of old design documents for the germs including tons of unused designs! I haven't heard from him in a while but he sent me a few dozen of them I made into another article once! Here's one of the coolest that didn't make it into the final line:

I think people who follow my art can probably tell how big an impression this obscure, short lived IP had on me. Some Mortasheen monsters are practically my own fan "Germs" designs.

Thank you for the excuse to overshare about something so very very specific. I should really compile all this into one big site article some day.

[owlmylove]

Just had the very distressing thought that if I ever want to have a girlfriend I'm gonna have to TALK to a girl?!?!??!?!?!?

I'd have to talk to a girl that I LIKE and HAVE A CRUSH ON?!?!? Impossible! Please help a distressed lesbian if you have any advice

okay so: in my personal experience 90% of all lesbian flirting is eyeing up fellow women to discreetly try to determine if they, too, are wlw. then you compliment each others button downs and never speak to each other again

BUT if you would like to painstakingly attempt to challenge the starfish fallacy then read on for my comprehensive guide on flirting w/ women! (credentials: i have accidentally flirted with So Many Women oh my god)

first up: start with the art of compliments! if you're too shy to tell a girl they're gorg out of nowhere, then focus on their clothing, their haircuts, their cool shoes, the patches on their denim jackets, etc. opening a convo with a compliment is one of the easiest shortcuts, as it neatly prevents you from having to come up w/ a witty rejoinder right off the bat (save those for later)

physical proximity makes it easy to do this to someone standing or sitting next to you. if, however, they're on the other side of the room/otherwise engaged, it gets trickier. if ur confident enough to walk up to a girl in a coffeeshop + compliment her, GO FOR IT. but if you're too anxious to just coldcall her, approach with a question.

you can warp the compliment to fit the question, i.e. "Hey! Sorry to interrupt [your reading], but your book looks super interesting/I've seen it around & am debating whether to buy it. Would you recommend it?" or, re: outfits/haircuts "Hey! Your ____ is super cute, can I ask where you got it [done]?" if they're a classmate/coworker, you can make it even less direct: "Hey! Do you know when we're scheduled to do ____?" (<- this one comes w/ the perk of, pending her response, immediately asking for her # to swap shifts or trade notes, which can quickly allow for inviting her to a study group/after work drinks with coworkers. speedrun!!)

once Conversation is Initiated, maintain eye contact, listen attentively to their replies, and keep smiling/smizing. if they're reticent, follow up with more questions unless you're getting fuck off vibes ("I'm trying to get more into reading lately, would you have any other reccs?" or, "I haven't found a hairstylist yet since I moved here from _____, are there any other local spots you'd recommend?")

BUT if they're returning eye contact, smiling, and keeping open body language towards you, make it a full-on convo! offer some personal details in return, don't be afraid to make (non-risky!!!!) jokes, and (if you can control when & where you're moving, i.e. not during a job or class) have a built-in exit.

even if convos are going good, it's polite (+ leaves them wanting more via scarcity principle, etc. etc.) to end a brief first-time convo after a few minutes, ideally before the energy winds down & you're left feeling awkward. "it's been so lovely meeting you! [insert name here], right? I've got to get going, but thanks for the ___!" if you wanna play the long game/are in a coffeeshop/aren't confident enough yet (no shame!) ask if she comes here regularly and say you hope to see her around sometime soon.

if you've managed to get a good enough energy going: ask if she has an insta/social media you could get for _____ purpose, i.e. letting her know if you like the book/music/media she recc'd or asking for more local spots. IF, however, you don't wanna put yourself at the whim of her generosity: give yourself a cheat code during the initial conversation.

namely; reference something you'd recommend, think she'd find funny, or can't believe she hasn't seen yet, etc. etc. then, at the end of the convo, you can naturally offer "Oh! Lemme send you that X I mentioned--do you have an insta/social?" et voila. asking for social is always less awk/direct than asking for phone numbers, AND it lets the flirtee decide whether she wants to offer that level of trust just yet

if you're not coldcall flirting a girl in public, but rather have an object of your affections at work or school: this formula works p. much the same, but on a slower scale (if you don't use my speedrun ofc) start building a rapport via compliments/questions, progress to chatting briefly whenever you see each other, and third step: say "I saw something yesterday that totally reminded me of you/I just have to send to you!! Here-do I have your insta yet?"

once you have someone's insta: continue chatting when you see them irl/replying to their stories over social, and see if you can pay close enough attention to what she likes to do. judging by the number of accidental lesbian dates i've been on, it's probably

art museum

botanical gardens, or

burlesque shows

however, hikes, used bookstores, underground shows, and grocery shopping together for a subsequent picnic also feature prominently. invite her to do whatever activity you think you'd both enjoy most (over social or irl, whichever you're comfortable with [tho irl gives you a better judge of facial expressions/body language]) and boom. if she says yes, shoot back "it's a date!" after setting the day/time, bc if she's anywhere near as clueless as i am (i'm so sorry wlw) they may honestly think you're still just friends.

if, over the course of your irl convos or DMs, you have the chance to casually mention your sexuality (patches, pride is coming up, mention "my teenage crush/my ex-girlfriend") and ask for hers, go for it. if you can be direct: ask directly. it will save you time, trouble, and mild heartbreak. but if you suffer from the conflict avoidance that plagues lo so many of us: just lean into the subtext.

offer your celebrity crushes and ask what hers are. mention an ex (BRIEFLY, in connection to another topic entirely [she recc'd this cool band to me!] and always in a positive context). wear birkenstocks or docs and say Portrait of a Lady on Fire is the best film of all time, say you listen to girl in red or w/e those charming youths do. just lay the foundation in barely-subtext and keep an eye on her responses, while accepting the risk of wooing what may or may not be a fellow wlw

once you are, in point of fact, ON the date: standard rules and rates apply. relax! be urself!! enjoy spending time with a cool person, regardless of what may or may not come of it!!!! if she seems into it lean into physical proximity, do the whole Tarzan hand-comparison wlw are addicted to, offer to feed her bites of food or swap sips of each other's drinks, and casually set intentions for future plans ("I've never heard of X cafe--we'll have to do that next time!" or, the infamous buy-her-smth-secretly and then offer "You can get mine next time c:")

again, the most important thing is to be sincere. it's good not to place too many expectations on the other person, but don't force yourself to be overly "chill" if you are not, in point of fact, a chill person. dating is always a process of getting to know one another, and it's important to be polite but pls don't feel like you have to follow a script or be someone you're not. just be you babe: you're already plenty lovable. godspeed + good luck!!<33

[sunflowerim]

I like shiny things but I'd marry you with paper rings

Wolfstar au. Word Count: 2104.

13th February,1976

On a usual Friday, they’d all be packed with classes, but courtesy of the exhaustingly long quidditch match yesterday, the classes had been suspended and the next day being Valentine’s Day plus Hogsmeade weekend, the Friday was very lazy for people like Sirius who didn’t have dates. Of course, a lot of people wanted to go out with him, but the one HE wanted to go out with was busy making enchanted origami with Lily. Remus John Lupin.

Sirius was still reeling from the kiss they’d shared on New Year’s. In the common room. In the presence of everyone. Whether or not anyone saw, Sirius didn’t know because the lights were dim and a lot of people were drunk and preoccupied. Even if they did, nobody questioned, more so because they were the marauders and it’s after all a tradition to kiss your loved ones when the clock strikes twelve, be it friends or more. But Sirius knew it was more than that. He knew from the way Remus’ lips lingered on his a tad bit longer than it should have, he knew from the way their eyes locked after the kiss, he knew from the way he’d wanted more. There was something in Remus’ eyes, an emotion Sirius couldn’t place, but before he could say anything the common room had burst into a loud cheer because James too had finally kissed Lily, and just like that their moment had broken. James. That idiot.

The worst thing about it was things went back to normal between them from the next moment. Neither of them acknowledged it, and just went on with their lives. As much as Sirius wanted to talk to Remus about it, he couldn’t. The fear of rejection was too real. And the possibility of Remus thinking it was just a friendly casual peck on New Year’s Eve was horrifying.

Sirius could feel the tension between them after that, but he wasn’t sure if it was real or all in his head. Sirius was so used to being asked out and swooned over by other people that being on the other end of the stick for the first time was overwhelming him. Remus had that effect on him. Sirius could be perfectly going about his day but if Remus would look at him for more than one second, he’d lose it. It didn’t help that they were roommates and they saw a lot of each other. Not that he was complaining. He would never. But the number of times Remus caused him to get flustered was getting embarrassing at this point.

He loved Remus. He’s been his best friend for years. So of course he loved him but it had been platonic all this time. This year things had felt a bit different. He felt insanely jealous when anyone tried to make a move on Remus and found himself wanting to spend more time with him to the extent of sitting at the library doing nothing because Remus wanted to work there. Remus was difficult to read and Sirius was determined to unravel that boy. So far he’d had no luck, which is why he’d be spending Valentine’s Day on his own.

Right now, Sirius was hanging out with Lily and Remus by the great lake as James served his detention at McGonagall’s office. The origami birds were perching themselves on Remus’ shoulders. Sirius brushed away a butterfly Lily had made that had flown and landed on his nose.

“How long are you guys gonna sit here it’s sooooo boring?” Sirius groaned at last.

“Would you rather be serving detention with James?” Lily arched an eyebrow.

“Yes, I would. Much less boring.”

“Then go and get yourself into trouble Black,” Lily retorted with a laugh.

“I would if I wasn’t feeling so drained. You wouldn’t understand Evans, because you weren’t playing Quidditch yesterday.”

“At least I wasn’t the one who failed to win.”

“Quidditch is a team sport,” Sirius started “and I–”

“Guys,” Remus interrupted, “it’s very peaceful out here. Can you not make me want to drown myself in the Great Lake?”

Lily punched Remus in the arm and went back to making more butterflies and Sirius went back to thinking about Remus. He didn’t notice when Remus left his spot and seated himself beside Sirius.

He was startled when Remus nudged him with his shoulder. He turned his head towards Remus who wasn’t meeting his eyes and Sirius’ eyes fell on Remus’ extended hand. A little piece of origami in blue paper lay on his palm. Sirius gingerly picked it up and almost dropped it out of surprise. A ring.

Remus still wasn’t meeting his eyes.

“Whoa wha-what is this Moony?”

“What does it look like?” Remus replied.

“Nicer,” Lily hummed from her place. It was then that Sirius noticed the soft smile playing on her lips. Whatever was happening, Lily was in on it too.

“Did you really think I was being casual on New Year’s?” Remus asked after a brief pause, finally looking at Sirius.

Sirius’ eyes widened. “But- then- you- if- hold up-,” Sirius stuttered before almost shouting,“ WHAT TOOK YOU SO LONG THEN?”

Remus only smiled, “It was fun to watch you struggle.”

“Fun to watch me what?! What the fuck are you on about? Do you know how stressed I was?”

And Remus giggled, “I know.”

“Ohmygod Moony,” Sirius looked like he was about to rip his hair off, “since when did you become so insufferable?”

“Seriously guys, I really thought something like a confession would be more peaceful,” Lily said, packing up her stuff. “And I just lost a bet to James, thanks to you Black.” Lily got up and muttered something while pointing her wand at Sirius’ hand and the piece of origami was surrounded by a golden aura for 3 seconds. “That’ll protect it from external damage. Keep it safe Black.” She turned to smile at Remus, “All the best Remus.” With that, she made her way back to the school building.

This time Remus was equally stunned. “That was thoughtful, but did these two really bet on how our conversation would go?”

Sirius burst out laughing, “Totally a James thing to do. I’m surprised he got Lily to agree.”

“Oh trust me, she’s been excited. Not cause of the bet, but because of,” Remus paused, “you know, us.”

“Oh.”

“So I suppose it was easy for James to rope her into a bet.”

“So you guys have been discussing things? I feel so left out now, not to mention embarrassed.” Sirius pouted.

“Well, in my defense, I was embarrassed too. Do you think it was easy every time Lily or James whispered in my ears "Padfoot is staring at you” or “Padfoot looks so jealous”?“

"They did what?” Sirius groaned, hiding his face behind his hands. "Traitors."

Remus nudged him again, “It’s alright Pads.”

Sirius turned his whole body to face Remus. “Were you really serious that day?”

“I thought you were Sirius?” Remus stifled a laugh and Sirius looked like he was about to kill him.

“I can’t believe this,” Sirius sighed, exasperated.

“That you fell into your own usual trap?”

“That you chose this moment for the pun.”

“Sorry sorry, you’re right. We should talk. It’s been long overdue.” This time Remus turned to face Sirius too. “So to answer your question, yes I was serious that day. How could I not be Pads? You know I wouldn’t fool around with anyone, let alone you.”

Sirius sucked in a sharp breath at that.

Remus continued. “The reason I didn’t do anything before is because I thought it wasn’t a big deal to you. A lot of people wanted to be your New Year’s kiss, so I figured that you kissing me was just a way to get rid of that?”

Sirius could only scoff. For an academically brilliant student, Remus was really stupid.

“That is, until Lily talked to me about it and started pointing out your, umm, how do I put it, behavioral changes,” Remus smiled. Sirius was going red in the face.

“So here we are.” Remus finished, now a bit jittery, as he anticipated Sirius’ response.

Sirius felt like the temperature around them had dropped. This would probably be the first time he was about to be genuinely honest regarding his feelings. And he knew there would be no going back from here.

“So let me get this straight, you actually wanted to kiss me, and when you did, you chickened out and then teamed up with James and Lily to make fun of me?”

Remus scratched the back of his head, looking down. “When you say it like that–”

“Those little– never mind, I’ll deal with them later. As for you..”

Remus looked up, eyebrows raised. Sirius could tell that his heart was beating just as fast.

“For your information, I didn’t kiss you to shut everyone else out. I don’t really know what happened but at that moment that’s what I wanted. You already know what followed after, courtesy of my traitor friends, so I won’t emphasize that, but thank you for approaching me first because I clearly couldn’t muster the courage to do so.”

“Clearly,” Remus snorted.

“No interruptions Moony.” Sirius chided.

“Sorry, continue.”

“I– forgot what I was going to say.” Sirius slumped his shoulders. “But the bottom line is, I like you too Moony.” Sirius was looking anywhere but in Remus’ direction. That is until Remus opened his mouth.

“I never said I like you though,” Remus wondered out loud and Sirius jumped on him.

They scuffled for a while on the ground until Sirius managed to pin down Remus beneath him. He held Remus’ wrists tightly within his own, “Come again.”

“I said that I never said I like you but I WAS GOING TO,” Remus grunted, vigorously trying to shake off Sirius who held on.

“Were you now?” Sirius teased.

“Why else do you think I was here? Now please get off me before anyone sees and it gets embarrassing.”

“Are you embarrassed of me?”

Remus smiled, “To be honest, yes, a little.”

Sirius erupted into a series of laughter and easily slid off Remus who joined in on the laughter while brushing off the grass from his sweater.

“So, now what?” Sirius asked.

“Are you gonna take it or what?” Remus picked up the blue paper ring which had found its way to Remus' lap during their scuffle.

“Are you gonna put it on me or what?” Sirius teased again.

That effectively got Remus shy as he cautiously held Sirius’ hand and ever so carefully put the ring on.

Call Sirius the most dramatic bitch of Hogwarts, or even the whole Wizarding world, but in that moment he could actually see a future unfold with Remus. As the foundations were being laid, Sirius knew that he was in this for a long time. His family might disown him, but when has he ever cared about that? As long as Remus would be with him, everything would be fine. It was all he needed to be happy.

“You’ll not say anything?” Sirius urged.

“Would you like to be my boyfriend, Pads?”

Sirius’ face broke into a grin. Of course he’d say yes. The fact that Remus, who had a thin level of patience, had learnt origami for this, had touched Sirius more than he expressed. Years down the line, Remus could even propose to him for marriage with a paper ring and he’d say yes to that too. No is never an option with Remus.

“Hmm, let me think. Can I wear your sweaters now?” Sirius asked.

“You, already do that.”

“I know, just checking,” Sirius chuckled. “Are we going to go to Hogsmeade together tomorrow?”

“Yes.”

“And can I cuddle you after?”

Remus’ breath hitched. A blush crept on his cheeks as he slowly replied, “I mean, yeah if you want.”

“Then, it’s a yes.” Sirius said, his face breaking into a wide smile.

“Sure?” Remus asked, worried Sirius was going to change his mind or regret this later.

Sirius looped his arms around Remus’ neck and grinned as if reading his thoughts, “Uh huh, you’re the one I want.”

Remus would have kissed Sirius again if they were not out in the open.

The stress finally leaving his chest also made him hungry. Sirius looked like he could do with some food too.

Remus got up and extended a hand to Sirius, “Shall we raid the kitchen to celebrate?”

Sirius could only smile as he took the offered hand and got up, “After you.”

A/N : Another addition to my song fic series which I'm really enjoying writing. This time it's 'Paper Rings'. Watch me make everything about wolfstar at this point.

My Other Works

[muffindaddystyles]

Tell me you love me, before I go.

A/N: A very short smutty writing I had in my swirling whole night, which unapologetically I ended up writing in the wee hours of dark.

Summary: Harry and Y/N are rivals -- very passive aggressive enemies. When on a mission Y/N breaks into his room he had no choice but to punish her.

AU: Rivals to lovers, dark sci-fi, angry rough sex, spanking and spitting, reassurance kink and unrequited love.

A war between two groups. Left one with nothing but a tech base and other with almost everything. So the Arsonists raid the Phantoms' buildings to steal food items and necessary fuels for their people since they're mostly unarmed due to lack of weapons they try to use their brain as much as possible. 

Y/N works in one of the tech bases of Arsonists and right now she's standing with her five more mates trying to figure out how to break through these large gates of the villain's building, one of his most strong headquarters. 

They've to collect some data before another truck of fuel arrives for Phantoms next Wednesday so they could have access to it without doing much effort. 

Once sneaking in successfully because the two guards were too muddled in gossiping their arsess about their maiden. The building's nothing too extravagant, sleek and able to live, dimmed to an unpleasant light indicating everyone inside it is sleeping. 

She barges into the villain's room easily and almost had all the information in her hands from his drawers when the door to the room banged close, startling her at spot and the frames of her glasses fell on the carpeted floor. 

"Shit." 

"D'ya think cursing would take ye' out of here? if so you're down bad" Her heart sinks in when his cold insensate voice booms within the walls — a heavy boot comes crushing her glasses, again and again mercilessly. 

Her blood boils. Because, what the fuck. Doesn't he have any manners? 

"Do you think I need my glasses to punch the shit out of you, you prick!!" She pounced at him, almost breaking his nose into a splitted eiffel tower but he dodged it, twisting her wrists at her back and snatching the files from her sneering menacingly —- letting her painful grunts fly over his head without any remorse. 

"Well, well." She yelps when he tightens his grip angrily, "Look what cat dragged in come little mousey we're going to have some fun." She didn't know until now that someone could be this strong as he puts her in a chair like a rag doll binding her with no escape out. 

She tries to squirm and wriggle her butt out but he just tuts standing tall and evil in front of her, she rakes her gaze slowly up to his tanned biceps and clavicles popping from underneath his flimsy shirt, matted curls grazing his shoulders. 

"Oh no, trust me sweetheart, you're going to want to stay strapped in here. We're going to find out how many times an Arsonist can break –- and for the fact my people will kill you on the spot if you step out of my room." Shiver runs down her body from fear and he chuckles, flopping onto the edge of his bed, man spreading, leaning onto the heels of his palms behind him. 

"You're pathetic!" She spits out. Full of venom. 

"Pfft, a thief telling me that 'm pathetic." He shakes his head and she's despising his audacity as if he rules the world. She could kick him square in his sexy face but the thing's she's bound to this damn uncomfy chair. 

"Atleast, I don't go on killing people." She grumps and it's like she pushed a button when his irises turn pitch dark. Her eyes widen in astonishment, reeking with fear when he leaves his spot in a thunder striding towards her furiously and drags the chair closer to him, almost lifting it inches above floor. 

The next thing she knows that a gun is resting against her temple ready to be fired, "Ye' really that desperate fo' me to prove it to you, huh?" He growls, hooded gaze following the gun that's sliding down her cheek and the way her breath wavers —- lips trembles, nose twitches he knows he's fucked. 

"Will it hurt?" If she's going to die it better be an easy way. 

His eyes soften at that. Taking in the rosy features of her, the plushiness and squishiness of her skin that his fingers feels like dipping into cream. The women of Phantom aren't like this; they're built differently to fight and kill who wrongs them -- they're almost heartless at this point. 

"Dunno, You'll get to know after taking one." He shrugs like it's not a biggie tipping her chin with the gun's pointer and her eyelids slip shuts. She couldn't cry. Even her dead body wouldn't forgive her if she would cry infront of her worst enemy for the last time. 

"I hate you, Harry. I'd never ever forgive you for kidnapping my cat when we were small." There she said it. If she's gonna die soon she better let it off her chest. Before it could hit him right in the wound he builds a shield fast arguing back with a stoic chuckle. 

"Guilt tripping wouldn't help, darling." He tuts patting her cheek with the gun's barrel —- funny case it's empty of bullets. He just shooted all of them whilst doing target practice. 

"Fuck you." She yells. 

"It'd take much more action than just undressing me naked with your bare eyes." He squeaks dramatically. Stepping away and pouts when she huffs trying to kick her feet in his direction. 

"Not my fault that you're a perv." 

He pouts feigning fake disappointment putting a hand on his chest, "You're such a grudge holder." 

"Think about 10 ways to fuck me until then 'm heading to make amends for you -- see what they offer in return of their precious nerd." He smirks, it's sad such a gorgeous face could be such evil she thinks. 

// 

When he comes back she's fallen asleep from getting tired and exhausted being trapped in the same spot for hours, "Sorry, peaches but they don't want you back –- even told me to kill you if that what it ta —- oooh" He halts in his tracks closing the door behind him quietly not to wake her up and pads softly towards her, putting her dangling head back gently in a comfortable position and tucks a strand of her hair that's tickling her nose behind her ear. 

You're not supposed to act that way with your enemy, you FUCKER. 

His brain screams but his heart says otherwise. 

She has changed. She never cries anymore. Everytime they kidnapped her or she ended up being caught from his henchmen —- she'd always need company to make her feel less frightened from the hollowness of their buildings, would cry when they'd lock her up in dark rooms. 

It's awfully hurtful how once bestfriends turns into rivals just because of a conflict that ruined their and their families lives. 

She has been doing all of this for people who doesn't even care about her. They're using her and many others like her to build a nuclear power plant so they could become intimidating. 

He retires to sleep. Debating in his sleep whether he should just free her and tell her to sleep in one of the rooms of the buildings but soon the possibilities died when he was high in his slumber. 

// 

He groans, knuckling the sleepiness away from his eyes. He woke up from loud the thumping and found Y/N trying to break the door knob, he winces covering his ears when she screams watching him lunge towards her in rush. 

His chocolate curls bouncing atop his head. His emerald eyes speaking with morning's gold and lips ripe like cherry. His brows kinked in annoyance and expression pinched in rage. 

"You're confident." He rasps out in his morning husk and slams his hands on either side of her head trapping, cornering her between him and the wall.

"Did you really think it was going to be this easy." He nothing but purres, pushing her against the door. She gasps abruptly aware of their height differences moreso the radiation of power he daunts that she ignored her whole life. 

"Hmm." He hummed. Eyes black with intimidation burning her under the intensity of it, he keeps his focus on her, smirking. "It suits you. This trying to fight me, desperation is a beautiful look on you." 

"Fuck you." 

"I mean if, ask nicely." His smile is sweetly honey and lethal if you ask me. 

She glares at him with blazing daggers, "This isn't the way you make people love you." Her chest heaving with his heat close to her and his scent enveloping her. 

"Love?" He laughs fondly even, crinkled forming by his eyes and he breathes out when she hovers her dry lips over his's, "Sweet thing this isn't about love — if ye ask me far from that." He's lying. He's full of bullshit. 

"And yet you don't touch me or hurt me." She squints her eyes up at him wrecking her brain how to slip away from his hold, "If you beg so." He simpers awfully lewd for her. Sure as rock for what he said with his whole chest. 

"Come get me then!" She trips him aside and rushes for the door when he pushes her into it tightening his hand around her throat, it's aching him to tell her the truth but he wants to let her know her worth. He rests his forehead against her's muttering a rumble deep within his chest, "They don't want you Y/N." Her windpipes squeezes painfully. The statement punching her lungs. Tears springing in her eyes. 

"You're lying!!" She looks up at him shattered and desperate. 

He caresses his knuckles against her tear stained cheek, "Shh, shh baby I'll always want you even if they don't — " He jerks back when she blows hit at his brawny chest yelling at him. 

"It's because of you!! You, you, you." He sighs. Grabbing her wrists and pining them above her head, "Shut up, please." His chillness irks her more and she nips at him feastly. 

"Make me." So he does. When her eyes drift up at his determined ones it takes her breath away and she knew it was over for her. 

His lips catches her's in a hard kiss, driving them apart with the force of it. Nothing gentle mind mushing about it rather pricking needles into her skin with the severeness of it. She feels the door rattling against her back when he shifts, pushing her against it with his hips, every thought of her exploding into white noise of want and lust. The dark curl of desire twisting in her stomach and pearling sweat on her neck. With the last thread of restraint in herself she tries to pull away. 

"No." He says bringing her lips back to his's. Cupping her cheeks to deepen the kiss and it's ardent as before not loosing it's spark, she slips her hands under his shirt — pulling him closer and the low groan at the back of his throat, a small pleading noise of want sets her skin on fire. 

"Fuck me."  She mewls. Trying to latch on his body like a kitten with it's dainty paws. 

He glides his clammy palms down her bum and grabs her thighs wrapping them around his waist. Not breaking the kiss but tasting ever dulcet corners of her mouth and creating heavenly noises. 

The next thing they know she's crawling back with the help of her bum to settle in the nest of pillows and he's fumbling with his belt buckle quite aggressively, she tugs the hem of his shirt down not satiated enough from having his lips on her and meanders her fingers in his hair to pull at them roughly in order to flush her chest up against his's.

"Never thought your sheets would have smelled other than sex." Because, genuinely. They smell that of fresh mint and roses. 

"So, you think of me doing dirty on this bed you're laying at the moment?" He asks mock and degradation evident in his tone, "D'ya get wet dreamin' 'bout me railin' ye' to death?" He grazes his teeth along her jaw and sucks at her earlobe counting in her silence. 

"Shut up." She gasps, probably from the abrupt press of his bulge against the inside of her thigh. 

"Make me then." He growls. Fisting the hem of her hoodie and pulls it over her head throwing it among his skinny jeans. Her head falls back and lips tremble from the effect of slap he landed at her outer thigh —-- she knows she can't shut him.

Though he knows that her single command and he'd be at his knees for her. 

When she clings to him for dear life and whimpers in his ear softly, his eyes widen in realization and he leans away to watch her expressions diffuse into manifold emotions. His nose scrunches up and he holds back his cooes for her. 

She's a subby. A cute one. 

Her eyes blink open to the sight of him out of his boxers and it waters her mouth —- her mind manipulating her to lunge forward and take his heavy member in her palm to give a good suck to his shiny crimson head. 

Down her throat. Nestle her nose against the trim patch of hair under his balls. 

"Like what y'see, doll?" He highers his chin quite smug about her staring and she hates him for that, "Pretty cocky for someone who likes staring at his enemy's tits." Her voice groggy. She wheezes a squeak through her nose when Harry pulls his shirt over his head revealing toned pecs and abs -- skin sewn with tats. 

Unfortunately, she doesn't get to stare at it for longer when that shirt comes wrapping around her eyes blocking her sight. 

He can never let her have nice things would he?

"Wanted to gag your mouth with it … but I'd rather love hearing you moan fo' daddy." He nips at her collarbones -- sucking it harshly to leave a prominent mark. His calloused hand rubs over her tummy smiling against her skin when she jolts and lets a little squeal slip. 

His cock drips precome at her tummy and her breath shudders into heavy pants when the tip of his cock dipped in her belly button nudging it. 

"Ha —- " He glides his sticky head down her happy trail and slips his large palm into her panties cupping her with his middle finger teasing her entrance, "Couldn't hear you!" He ducks down to put his ear near her lips and drums the pads of his digits against her cheek. 

She huffs and squirms for a second then moans breathily when he spanks the side of her hip leaving a sting, "Oh my god, daddy." His grin victorious and he lowers down to smudge his lips against her parted ones -- kissing her tongue and humming around it. 

She's somewhere it's hard to configure out, in between paradise and wonderland. 

"Tell me princess, what d'I do with you in your filthy dreams?" He grabs her jaw patching gentle pecks against her lips and he slops his finger into her throbbing pussy, "Fuckin' drippin' down ye' bum fo' me." She cries out trying to hook her thigh around him but he hisses slapping her cunt hardly -- turning her into a thrashing mess. She's trying hard to suppress the bitter-sweet sensation of her own body getting out of control and her glistening pussy lips flutter erratically creating sloppy noises. 

She squirts drenching the sheets underneath them and her panties. 

He slides his arm under her arching back pushing her up against his chest with a jerk, "Daddy's askin' you somethin'." He grits, propping his knee in between her thighs to rub it against her soaking centre. 

She gulps, licking her dry lips, "You–your rings … ah!" Her whimpers are muffled against his chest and he twists his thumb in tight circles to smear her wetness from her slit to clitoris, "What 'bout them, doll?" 

How does she tell him she liked what he did earlier. 

"Daddy, please … " She whines blindly searching for his face but he grips her wrists in his one hand and groans, "How's daddy gonna make you feel good when you don't tell him, pet?" He takes a kitten lick of her perky nipple. Teasing her areola with the tip of his cold tongue against her warm sweaty body —- he laps at it hungrily then creates a suckling noises, the noises, his slobbery tongue on her body, his fingers curled inside her pussy and the thick humidity is too overwhelming, she feels like fainting. 

She wants him, inside her needy pussy. 

She can't take the teasing anymore. 

"Spanking! I – I liked it when you did it, please." He kisses her nipple for the last time before smashing his mouth against her's in a fervent sinfulness and parts away with a smooching noise to sit back on his heels, "It wasn't that hard was it? Just a word and I could give you my whole world." The sincerity in his voice makes her want to hug him and kiss him for lifetime but for now he has other plans as he rips her panties away moaning obscenely gruff at the sight of her pussy weeping for him to pound his cock inside her, so ready and full of dripping honeyed wetness  for him. 

"Your safe word is clouds." He whispers in her ear. He knows her limits and her resistance but by any chance he'd cross it he'd never forgive himself, "What's it?" He asks and she says in wavering, "Clouds." 

"Atta girl." He pets her cheek. 

Her nail scratches the side of his hands that are pinning her down when he spits on her already damp cunt, a loud noise resonates along with her needy cries when his free hand adorned in jewels came spanking her pussy and her pelvis remains lifted in air bathing in the sting of metal and the throb rattling in her whole core. 

"This's what you wanted?" He kisses his teeth slapping her slick clit again and again, "To be roughed up by daddy, hmm." She bobs her head squirming and wriggling. Her words struck in her throat. 

"To be manhandled." He hums a growlish moan tasting his own fingers coated in her juices, "I'll show you what being manhandled really feels like." He promises her. She gasps a sweet yelp when he flips her over and throws her bum up.

His cock rubbing against her thigh and her heartbeat fastens, anticipating something, crimping the sheets in her fists and mewls into the mattress when he spanks her ass loving the way it jiggles stroking it afterwards to subside the burn down before landing another brutal one. 

She bolts her eyes shut throwing back her hips at him and he lays all the way over her back pushing her down on the bed, her cum trickling down the inside of her thigh, "Want daddy's cock?" He asks. Slicking the head of his prick up and down her asshole and slit. 

When she nods vigorously he bumps it in furious circles against her swollen bundle of nerves, "Then beg fo' it," He says intimidatingly and she doesn't waste a second before blabbering shamelessly. 

"Daddy … please I want your massive cock inside me, all of it." In her entire lifetime -- she never once uttered these kind of words. 

His heart mushes into a puddle seeing her a babbling mess and grabby hands for him, he kisses her gently speaking to her with foremost affectionate, "shh, shh moppet. You could have it anytime you want it, daddy's g'na fill you to rim with his cum and make you keep it there for hours with his prick still snug inside your little pussy, just made for him, c'mere...yeah just like that." He lays her back gently that her front is facing him now and wraps his hand around her calve raising it and pushing it against her chest firmly.

A series of pornographic moans and whimpers echoes in his bedroom when he seathes inside her slowly stretching her out in by inch leaving a burn behind her pulsating walls, their breath laboured breaths mingling, "Fuck you're so warm baby —-- hugging daddy's cock so good." He whines looking down where they're connected and knotted. His stomach twists and turns, his hips stiffens and he resists from pushing inside her when she's not ready but her milking him with her wetness isn't doing him any mercy too. 

She gropes his ass, nudging him to move and their teeths clanks, temples falls against eachother and lips whisper prayers of their unrequited love when he pulls all the way back to pound back inside her roughly. 

"You're daddy's good girl, making him feel so good. I want to keep you to myself. all of you and cherish you, make love to you, w'na mark you however I want." He groans eyes rolling back under his closed lids grinding his hips against her's in rhythmic pleasuring motions to give her clit stimulations and she cries out feeling another bursting orgasm bubbling in her tummy. 

"'M gonna cum, daddy!" She tugs at his roots and he drives more maniacly inside her, "Squirt around daddy's cock pet, so your pussy could swallow it deeper inside you." The headboard of bed hits against the wall vigorously and she digs her heels deeper into the dimples at his back moaning at the top of her lungs when she gushes all over his dick making more squelching, soapy, dirty noises of him raming inside her. 

She desires for more. 

She has become one little insatiable thing. 

His balls smacks against her bum and his thursts turn faster to chase his high, "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He curses nuzzling his face into the crook of her neck and keeps his hand around his throat with the slight pressure of claimation. 

"Come fo' me again." He spanks her ass and she clamps shut down at him pushing him to the edge of ecstasy, "Squeezing me so tight -- gimme more, I know you can princess." Her legs tremble around his waist when she crampies around him and his cock's head strokes against her sweet spot doing wonders to just topple her off real quick. 

"Daddy!" She feels floaty and foggy head coming on his cock for the many times she has forgotten. Her mind blocking out even the weak shuddering whimpers and beaten moans of Harry as he reaches his orgasm unloading inside her -- his cum sticking thickly to her walls and some of it oozing outside of her pussy hole but he pumps it back with lazy strokes. 

He lifts his smushed face from the dip of her neck, his own curls sweaty against the nape of his neck and he smoothes his palms down her sides to calm her, his lips brushing featherly against the corner of her mouth as she keeps on blabbering something. 

When he tries to pull out gently she cries out pawing at his shoulders, "Daddy no!" He caresses her sweaty hair back and gets rid of her blindfold, pecking her nose sweetly. 

He wants to take care of her. He yearned to have her like this for years. He has to bring her back from her sub-space before it's too late. 

"It's no daddy anymore, petal. I'll crush you in this position — " Carefully he tries to retreat but stop when she says in a very dejected feeble voice, bottom lip wobbling and tears springing at the corners of her eyes, "You don't want me too?" OH NO. This's what Harry was afraid about. A breakdown. He saw the storm coming but didn't know it could be this worst right when she's in her sub-space. 

His face pales at that. His state in frenzy and panic. 

"No bubba. I want you my precious girl -- s'just you're gonna get tired like this, hmm. 'N I have so much to show you and make you meet new people -- couldn't have me baby walkin' on her wobbly legs for whole day could I?" He cups her cheeks tenderly and smiles down at her warmly smothering her in devoted kisses. 

"Promise, daddy?" She sniffles staring up at him with doe innocent eyes and he shakes his head, "Harry sweet angel, come back to me moppet." He keeps his gaze locked with her's, gliding his thumb delicately against her cheeks and seals his promise with a kiss. 

"Promise." 

She lets him pull out and he shushes her wrecked whimpers with his lips. Falling to side with a large puff of breather and embraces her with his arm slinged around her shoulders protectively and she hides her face in his chest, mumbling incoherent things and he tries to stay with her emotionally and physically much as possible -- assuring her and soothing her with his sweet nothings. 

"Harry." She whispers softly and his ears perks up at that looking down at her with most loving eyes, "Hi baby." He giggles quietly kissing the tip of her nose and she sniffs cuddling into him. 

"Sorry —- " He shakes his head pinching her chin to make her look up. 

"You don't have to darling -- s'okay, everything's alright." After, making sure she's okay and giving her million re-assurances because he loves to he cleaned her with a damp wash rag. 

"Such a pretty babe." He makes her blush treating her as if she's a china glass doll who'd break at his slightest poke and showers her in praises and kisses because dunno who got her self-esteem and confidence like that but that person sure needs to get punched in their face. 

"Did I hurt you?" He asks tenderly applying a thin layer of cream on her red imprints. She shakes her intervining her fingers into his's one by one and kisses his knuckle, "No." 

"Good." He chuckles as if he was holding his breath. 

"How bout you take a lil nap and I see if I could bring us some brekkie, hmm?" He's gonna break his own rule. Taking food from mess area to your rooms and taking long showers was never allowed, having lights on after 12 because of the risk of attacks. 

"'M not hungry, please stay." Her eyes half open and her face buried into his scented pillow, "Dunno. But to me you look like y'could faint any time soon." He says sternly pulling a snugly clean duvet over her body. 

"Okie but come back quick." 

"Don't worry. In a snap I'll be infront of you." 

//

It's her fourth day here. She came out of his room to socialize just a day before and she realized from the nasty glowers thrown her way that not a single person likes her. 

But it felt like spending a lifespan with Harry. To fill the emptiness of all those moments of their childhood together they lost once after the war. 

She got to know he's the best cuddler and likes to be a small spoon, she loves to jetpack him. He seems rather scary and is scary when he's commanding people off -- they wouldn't dare but to speak a word over him but he's this big softie Y/N likes to squish in their privacy. 

He got her glasses fixed and put them over her nose with a mishevious kiss, she was unable to not to grin when he murmered against her lips, "Now you could punch me with your glasses on." 

"Seems like I don't have to do that anymore." She shrugged squealing afterwards when he threw her over his shoulder tickling her till all she coul see was him and stars. 

It was all going on track until now when she was passing through the lobby to go to Harry who's practicing out in field, "What are you doing here Alex?" She asks angrily grabbing his arm and he tells her feeling relieved she's okay, "I'm here to take you back." 

"But they don't want me back." She grits, he catches her wrist pleading her sadly, "We want you back -- Nia waits for you daily." Nia is his five years daughter. 

"I know that … but — " How she's gonna tell him she's in love with one person they despise with their whole hearts. 

"But what — "

"Alex!!" He was in the midst when she sees a bullet approaching his way from the side of his shoulder and screeches loudly pushing him aside, the bullet makes it's home in her chest. 

It was fired from Harry's gun with his own hands that were loving on her an hour ago. Life drains out of his body and he feels sickness approaching to split his throat, knees turning weak as he stares his shaking hand in horror. 

Before, he could do anything another bullet hits Y/N in shoulder knocking her to floor and this time it was one of his people, the shot was fired on instinct. 

"Put your gun down!!" He shouts at him shoving him away with a single forceful push and strides towards where the love of his life's laying in a pool of blood. 

He pulls his hair maniacly, falling to his knees and pulls her up in his lap cradling her head gently to press his lips against her forehead, "No,no,no,no baby." He sobs wiping his tears away harshly to see her properly. 

"Ouch. It actually hurts." She gives him a frail smile raising her shaky hand to cup his cheek. 

Will it hurt? 

You'll get to know after taking one. 

He wishes he could takes his words back. 

"You'll be fine, you're okay, 'm so so sorry moppet. Didn't-- didn't know y'were standing behind him, bu –-- but s'...s'okay yeah —-- call the doctor!! Why nobody has called him yet!!!" His scream thunders aggressively as everyone watches  their commander this defenceless and vulnerable infront of them for the first time in shock. 

"It's not your fault, okay?" She manages to speak groaning and eyes rolling back from pain residing in her bones torturesly, he cries out like a wounded puppy patting her cheek to keep her awake, "Please stay with me baby, please." Her chest tightens. His chest tightens from the fear of loosing her and he stands up carrying her bridal style tumbling his way on wobbly legs towards the medical ward in the building. 

His tears shiny droplets on her skin and she nuzzles into his fragrance for the last time. 

"There was no happy ending to this," She murmurs. Any, sign of life fading from inside her and replacing her eyes with stoness.

He brings her closer to himself, "hey, hey now none of that -- you're not leaving. 'M not letting you leave." He kicks open the door and lays her limp body on the stretcher. Snapping his head outrageously in every direction to find any doctor but none and drags his palms down his teary face.

He couldn't stop crying.

He's loosing the sunlight of his bleak life he must protect her at all costs.

But, life's prize is something that would have him selling all of what he had worked for and still he'd be unable to even bring her back from cold dark earth.

"Shit. Shit ---– I'll patch you up myself. I know how to take a bullet out — " He creates a ruckus around to collect stuff, "Harry! Harry! listen to me." but her hollow anguish calls for him breaks him at last. 

"How about you spend these last few minutes with me because 'm really 'bout to die commander." She tries to keep her anxious voice cheery but fails drastically coughing blood, "Don't say that baby -- I just got you, don't leave me, don't make me hate myself again." Sad tears trickles down her cheeks and he feels like fainting imagining the pain, agony and fear she's suffering from. 

She's hating to leave him.

"Maybe in afterlife, we could have a nice homely house, long warm baths and two smol kittens —- and oh I forgive you for kidnapping my cat." She admires him for the last time wiping his tears away and tries to lift his head that's lowered into shame. 

She's so fond of him at the moment.

She gulps, trying to gasp for oxygen feeling her heartbeat drop to zero, pleading him, "Tell me you love me before I go." His bloodshot eyes snap to her's and his chest heaves ruggedly with heartbreaking sobs -- his words full of sorrow tasting the bitterness of goodbye on her lips streaking away the blood on her mouth. 

"I love you so much, baby. Never stopped. Never will." She cries at last kissing him back with all the blood she has left pumping to her heart and tries to exchange the words but it was too late before she lost it all -- cold in his loving embrace. 

"Stay…." He begs praying like he did never before. 

"Y/N!!" He screams trying to shake her alive and hugs his angel to himself with mournful wails. 

Everyone standing outside the room knows that they'll never see this Harry again. 

[k-s-morgan]

Hi Katrin! In reference to your previous ask about Ciels final smile of Kuroshitsuji 1, I just have to ask - why do you think Ciel is unhappy in his final moments?

I think I mentioned it a long while back in an ask I sent you (where I just dumped my ramblings about book of murder in your inbox - once again, sorry about that!) but Sebastian leaving Ciel in Paris didn't feel like a rejection to me.

Of course he senses the doubts Ciel clearly has about throwing his life away and I think misunderstands it. I don't think Ciel was second-guessing his revenge, but perhaps his readiness to die.

When Sebastian leaves him, he doesn't seem angry - that much is clear. Instead, he wishes him to "forget everything and have pleasant dreams", with a rather wistful expression on his face. And what this line ends up reading as is a bittersweet goodbye from the demon - an offering for Ciel to let go of his revenge and find happiness in the afterlife with his now soon approaching death.

I think he is disappointed because at some point he started to stop holding Ciel to human standards as he would everything else, but I also don't think he's resentful of it. Ciel is human and he can't keep expecting him not to be, so it was perhaps his fault for doing so.

Not wanting to die doesn't seem like something that would suddenly make Ciel's soul undesirable to Sebastian, so there must be another reason for him to let it go. He cannot offer Ciel life, since he knows that death is readily approaching him, but he can offer him an afterlife.

This offering almost acts as a thank you for the moments of excitement their contract had given his monotone life and I believe that is why he makes it.

He sticks around to see if Ciel accepts his offer, though already expecting him to, and is there to witness the very moment the boy rejects it. Gone is the uncertainty of Abberline's death and the Paris crisis, and Ciel, the Earl of Phantomhive, returns to him - sharper, colder, more ruthless than ever. Sebastian realises his misjudgement and returns to his side, ready for the final battle. Killing an angel. It's laughably symbolic.

I think it is at some point during this battle that Ciel fully acknowledges his feelings towards Sebastian. I completely agree with you - completing his revenge did not fulfil him. I don't think he felt victorious or triumphant from it, or even the satisfaction he might have expected from it. Like you said, he probably realises how wasted his life was in pursuing such a fate, but still understands that it was the only path he would've accepted, being who he was.

But that isn't to say he was unhappy. Just because it wasn't revenge that gave him fulfilment doesn't mean he didn't find it elsewhere. The smile he gives Sebastian doesn't read to me as bitter or condescending, but actually seems quite peaceful. And the reason for that, I think, is that he doesn't fear dying by Sebastian's hand.

Those same reddened eyes and fanged smile would be the last thing he sees – and was that really such a bad way to go? He knew how and when and by whose hands he was going to die, and not everyone could say the same. What's more, at this point, I'm pretty sure he would've realised what he was feeling for Sebastian, so I don't think he would be resentful for dying at the hands of someone he loved.

Sebastian, for him, had always represented the end. And a beautiful end at that. That's why the smile seemed peaceful to me.

He lets go of the bridge. Initially, I assumed it was a mixture of blood loss and a symbolic decision to let go of life and surrender himself to Sebastian, but from your analysis I actually think your idea about him wanting a final act of rebellion is wonderful. All Ciel really wanted was to be remembered by Sebastian, so why not send him one last gift? Let him have one last surprise before it's all over. Die on his own terms - it's a beautiful idea.

He dies in mid-air. We see the exact moment Ciel Phantomhive dies and exact moment his cinematic record blossoms from his lifeless body when the blood loss finally takes him.

It's a beautiful scene, regardless of how you analyse it and I absolutely love hearing everyone's interpretations of it since they're all so different from one another. Reading your analysis in this ask was particularly wonderful to me because it was such a different take from what I was used to. I tjust hought I'd share my view on the scene so I could hear more of your thoughts on the matter. Whether it's in literature or media, watching how the tone of a scene can change as the angle from which it is interpreted switches is perhaps one of the most interesting things you can do.

(My post about Sebastian leaving Ciel in S1 & London Bridge scene for those who are interested).

Thank you for this, I really love your asks, comments, and thoughts! I agree that Sebastian leaving Ciel in S1 wasn't a rejection - I think he was resentful to an extent (he sends Ciel several very dark looks when Ciel stops him from killing the Queen and when they are riding to the hotel), and personally, I see a mix of feelings when he's watching Ciel from afar later. He's quiet and thoughtful, and I think there is a storm of conflicting feelings brewing inside him. I particularly love your words about Sebastian being willing to give Ciel an afterlife.

As for how Ciel takes it... I think he's grimly determined to see everything through. I agree that he fully acknowledges his feelings for Sebastian at this point; I also think Ciel realizes he loves him at the very end of S1, seconds before Sebastian leans closer to take his soul. I imagine the entire life flashing right before Ciel's eyes, his adrenaline spreading through him chaotically and clearing his head in a way he's never experienced before. His reservations, stubbornness, reluctance to succumb to emotions - it's all going to lose its meaning because this is it. In a few seconds, he won't just be dead - he won't exist. I think Ciel is going to see everything with startling clarity, and he'll realize, "Oh. I love you," but of course he won't say it aloud.

I agree Ciel sees the beauty and the peace in being consumed by Sebastian, but at the same time, I see misery in him in those later moments. Sorry, I can't share gifs or even good pics right now, but here are some screens to illustrate what I mean:

I think he looks like in his darkest and saddest moments here. There is sorrow, bitterness, hopelessness in his eyes - he won, but it doesn't feel like it. Ciel always knew he was going to die and Sebastian was going to devour his soul, but now he is being proven right, it is finally happening, and I think he has mixed feelings on this. During their time together, he learned to enjoy life in his way. He enjoyed their games, being challenged, solving puzzles. He always knew it's temporary, but knowing and seeing it are two different things, and I don't think Ciel is as willing to die as he was before. The way he's startled when the Undertaker tell him he's going to die anyway even without Sebastian in the picture, Ciel's sudden burst of emotion when he tells Abberline that he had forfeited his future, his behavior afterward, how he was delaying the conclusion of their contract by holding Sebastian back - I think Ciel was re-assessing things.

This one breaks my heart in particular. In this specific moment, I don't think Ciel doesn't want to die in general, but he doesn't want to leave Sebastian. He's staring at him with emotions he never allowed himself to feel - he's ready, but he's wistful. He wishes things could have been different in some other world, that his book could have another ending, but he knows there is no place for what ifs in his life.

[lightrises]

"Only in allowing her to pass..." — Hornet, The Radiance, and the means by which Hallownest turned its victims against each other

A quick note: I read Hollow Knight as an anti-colonialist text. As such I'll be touching on topics related to colonialism as it's depicted in the world of the game, and said analysis will reflect both a sympathetic take on The Radiance and a critique of The Pale King that won't pull its punches. If this sounds up your alley, hello and thank you for the read! Let us be sad about these bugs together.

———

So!! A while back I realized something about pre-canon that felt rather... "curious" is one way to put it, I think. To wit: for all the effort and scheming and determination The Pale King poured into trying to get rid of The Radiance, neither of his plans involved directly killing her.

Was that his long game? Well, sure, that seems clear enough. His tack changed from luring the moths away from their god and creator to a more literal form of incarceration once the infection became a factor, but at its core the end goal never really changed—The Pale King very sincerely wished to destroy Radiance via obsolescence. The Seer lends us foreshadowing to confirm as much:

[Image descriptions: Two screenshots from Hollow Knight, showing the Seer and Ghost in the Seer's alcove at the Resting Grounds. Across both screenshots, the Seer tells Ghost the following: "None of us can live forever, and so we ask those who survive to remember us. Hold something in your mind and it lives on with you, but forget it and you seal it away forever. That is the only death that matters." End description.]

(Which, by the way and given the context, talk about an extremely unsubtle allusion to cultural genocide huh!!! Whew.)

In any case, we're left with a whole bunch of machinations which build up to... well, two very roundabout attempts at committing deicide. That's kind of weird, all things considered! Why not just do the deed in one fell swoop and get it over with?

This could be for any number of reasons. Maybe the king was devoid of the means to instantly kill another higher being. Maybe his personal sense of scruples stopped him short of signing off on MURDER murder (although, y'know, the aforementioned genocide + eternal imprisonment = still cool and copasectic apparently!). Maybe the long drawn-out cruelty was the point. Maybe the idea of playing fuckign 4D chess with the circumstances was too delicious for him to pass up—that man did love to tinker and stick his claws where they sure as hell didn't belong—or maybe it was a little bit of All The Things. Who knows!!

But interrogating The Pale King's methodology on this count isn't what I'm here for, at least not really. The main reason I raise this question at all is that in her own way, Hornet did too.

"I'd urge you to take that harder path... "

See, going by The Pale King's actions and what The White Lady explicitly says, they both foresaw two outcomes wrt the infection: it can be allowed to spread, or it can be contained. At Teacher's Archives, Quirrel acknowledges the fact that Ghost is expected to do... something about this, but he doesn't elaborate on what HE thinks that's supposed to be apart from the obvious "Gotta bust into Black Egg Temple first". Hornet is the one person who presents to us—to Ghost—what's framed as a third option: confront and destroy the infection at its source.

And she doesn't bring it up like it's just another tactic for Ghost to consider, prim and indifferent to what they would do. She nudges them towards it, actively, up to the point where she throws herself into the fray against Hollow at a juncture that's uniquely dangerous to her and her alone just to make that option feasible.

Even when she's couching it in disclaimers that this is still Ghost's decision to make (and let's be fair, she's extremely not wrong about that lol), no one can pretend Hornet is unbiased. It's obvious in that buttoned-down Hornet kind of way that she is way the hell done with the increasingly tenuous stalemate that's kept Hallownest's desiccated corpse from collapsing in on itself. Personally it's hard for me not to read some Toriel Undertale-esque "My father was too entrenched in his own foolishness to pursue any course of action that would have DEFINITIVELY ended this" shade into her stance here, regardless of whether that's strictly true in canon.

And that bit—Hornet's hopes for an end to Hallownest's stasis, moreover her grim calculation of what needs to be done to get there—that's the bit I find super interesting but likewise tragic and depressing as shit, on multiple levels. In no small part because a) canon itself gestures towards Hornet feeling conflicted about the very plan she's pushing, and moreover b) she has at least two (2) damn good reasons to feel that way.

So, what do I mean by that? Let's look here first:

[Image description: A screenshot from Hollow Knight, of Hornet and Ghost inside the Temple of the Black Egg, standing in front of the unsealed egg itself. Hornet has been struck by the Dream Nail and her dialogue is displayed as follows: "... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?" End description.]

As the curtain is about to drop on things one way or another, Hornet thinks,

... Could it achieve that impossible thing? Should it?

Now, looking at that last bit it's easy to go "Oh no, Hornet's worried that Ghost won't survive killing The Radiance!" And I do think that's part of it: Hornet is, categorically, not her father. By endgame it's clear she's not content to view her Void-borne siblings as tools to be used then disposed of. She's also well aware that as a healthy autonomous Vessel amongst the countless dead, Ghost is the only person left alive who has a fighting chance against The Radiance. Knowing someone is the only qualified candidate for the job doesn't make encouraging them to embrace a probable death sentence any less of a bitter pill to swallow, though. And odds are on that this sentiment extends to Hollow too, who IS going to die no matter what happens here. To put it bluntly, it's more than reasonable to conclude that Hornet hates the absolute fuck out of this.

But I don't think that's all there is to it either. Remember what I said earlier about The Pale King's bids for genocide? Well, it's not like the man deigned to limit his efforts to just the moth tribe.

"We do not choose our mothers... "

On top of everything else—an infected Hallownest being all she's ever known, the fact that she only exists because of the infection, the list goes on—Hornet has spent her life wedged into a position that's been uncomfortable and terminally unglamorous at best: she is both a daughter of her father's kingdom and of Deepnest.

Deepnest, which like the moths and many others was here long before the wyrm and his lady wife swanned onto the scene and the God Become Bug laid claim to everything the Light touched plus a considerable amount of change. THAT Deepnest, which has fought claw and thread to retain its sovereignty against same-said settler king, and for which Herrah not only surrendered her life but also agreed to bed her worst enemy, all in hopes of securing a viable future for her people (put a pin in that last part by the way, I'll come back to it soon).

Two Worlds, One Family (Ft. An Indigenous Woman Trying Her Damndest To Work With What She's Got Versus An Imperialist Who Only Signed Up For This Because He Needed The Political Favor THAT Badly, So It's The Height Of Dysfunctional Actually). Fun times!!!!

The baggage this entails for Hornet is gnarly enough without implications made by The White Lady and the pre-canon timeline of events and even Team Cherry's dev notes that the king may well have looked at baby Hornet, gone "YOINK", then ensured she spent the lion's share of her childhood reared within the pearly auspices of his Pale Court*. That would be rather advantageous for Him Specifically after all, the potential to mold a born foe into a future ally and even have her trained in combat under the same tutelage as her doomed sibling. And far be it from him to stop a grown Hornet—his own flesh and blood too!—from making Deepnest her forever home if she so pleased. He totally wouldn't be reneging on his "fair bargain made" by doing this one simple thing until Hornet came of age, not t e c h nic c a l l y.

If that is indeed the case, there's a non-zero chance Hornet's formative years were a hot mess of cultural alienation and being a good deal more privy than most to just how much of a bastard her father could be. There's an equally non-zero chance that at some point she stood or sat within earshot as The Pale King finally, finally dropped all pretense and euphemism to name the Light for precisely what (for who) it was.

See, in conjunction with the question that started this whole dang train of thought I've been asking this one too: Does Hornet know? When she speaks of confronting "the heart of [the] infection" does she know she's talking about not just a literal person but someone very specific? The Radiance, who god though she may be shares skin in the game alongside Hornet as a native woman screwed over by the same settler king, likewise deprived of her kin and saddled with a life gone horrendously pear-shaped?

I'll assume for the sake of exploring the possibility and because I think it's a likely one anyway that yes, Hornet does know. She knows, and despite everything can't help empathizing. She might even look at Radiance and see bits and pieces both reflected and slightly inversed in her own mother: Radiance was forced to the sidelines while her people—her children, the brood she was meant to lead and care for—died out under The Pale King's rule, and it's no stretch to assume she's at least as upset about that as she has been about everything else; Herrah too took drastic measures for her people's sake, trying to head off annihilation by relegating herself to the sidelines in an act that was as much calculated risk as an attempt to find wiggle room and leverage in the face of a nasty proposition.

A calculated risk that, if things continue as they are, might well amount to nothing as the rest of Deepnest gets eaten alive by the infection. It survived The Pale King's advances for so so long, only to fall here. Herrah's sacrifice would be for naught; the other tribes—themselves the king's victims—would keep succumbing to the infection too.

And this is where things fall apart.

"... or the circumstance into which we are born."

Let's be clear: I think Hornet is wise enough to know what's what here, that all the carnage and suffering falls on her father's head for starting this slow-motion trainwreck in the first place. Hallownest wasn't always Hallownest. This domain was Radiance's home first, along with many others. It was the worm-turned-king who rolled up on the scene unsolicited and decided this was a ""'problem""" that had to be """solved""".

But the fact of the matter is that he's gone and The Radiance is here, raging, seemingly inconsolable. Above and beyond being Deepnest's rightful heir, Hornet isn't in a position to countenance more splash damage even if the grief and fury fueling it makes perfect sense. She can understand without ever bringing herself to love Radiance, and she can bend her knee to practicality even if she hates the everloving shit out of it because the fact that it "has" to end this way isn't fair.

This lends itself to one last awful conclusion: that Hornet has probably considered and (rightly or wrongly) discarded the possibility that Radiance can be saved, at least not without dragging more collateral along for the ride. If even her mother and every other enemy to the king seemed to dismiss talking Radiance down as an option way back when... well. Why should Hornet hope for any better after things have escalated so far?

Again, it's practical. A practical net good is what Hornet strives for. And again, it fucking sucks.

For extra tragedy points, this makes Hornet's extended crypticness around Ghost followed by her last minute casting about for a reason to tell them "Wait, don't; not just yet" that she never voices even more of a gut punch. She can't bring herself to burden Ghost with the context that haunts her so, least of all when it might weaken their resolve to go through with what (she thinks) needs doing.

It's the "same song, different verse" which led to the mantis tribe and Deepnest being pitted against each other: Hallownest rigged the game so that two women who could have been powerful allies—who have a mutual vested interest in driving out settler rule—wound up poised as enemies instead. And how awful is that? The king for all his being extremely fucking dead still gets the last laugh, because outside of a miracle the game never manifests Hornet can salvage what her mother started and look forward to a future where Deepnest pulls itself back from the brink if and only if The Radiance dies.

Resolution comes at the price of a completed genocide. Add two more dead siblings to the unconscionable pile thereof, while we're at it. That's what it boils down to whether or not Hornet can bear to articulate it as such, and there's no grace or even a properly bittersweet ending to wring from this clusterfuck. And that is rough.

———

* This has been better explained elsewhere, but a quick rundown: The White Lady tells Ghost that Hornet and Herrah "were permitted little time together." On its surface this can be taken to mean that Hornet was still very young when Herrah was shipped off to Eternal Dreamland—except this doesn't jive with the fact that we meet Hornet as an adult. If the stasis kicked in once the Dreamers went to their rest, which in turn halted the aging process for every living bug in Hallownest, AND before all this Hornet experienced little by the way of quality time with her birth mother... I think you can see where I'm going with this.

To top it off we've got Team Cherry weighing in ominously from their dev notes on Herrah: "As part of the agreement for her alliance and her role as a dreamer, King gave her a child (Hornet). Was she allowed to keep this child or was she taken away?" This isn't confirmation by itself of course, but given additional canon details (see above): Can I get a "yikes" in the chat fellas.

[animeyanderelover]

Hi first of all I'm sorry for not thanking you enough for the last two shots you wrote for me the child s/o and main four was unique and adorable and the Leorio one was absolute gold I've been having a rough time my laptop broke and my instructor is mad b/c of falling behind so I didn't have the energy to talk . Anyway if it's ok I'd love a Kurapika shot with a snarky stubborn s/o who makes trouble after capture thought it go well with prompt 81 the hard dark stuff helps me process my grief

Hard and dark, huh? I will always prefer soft and desperate. But who am I to decline my darling’s wishes?

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, aggressive and vicious behavior, threatening, violence, self-harming behavior

Prompt 81: “The more you struggle now, the heavier your punishment will be later on.”

Kurapika didn’t know if you were either just stupid or incredibly stubborn, feeling his already strained string of patience run thin more and more with each passing day. He knew that you could be very thick-headed, but currently you were balancing on a very thin and dangerous line. And you had to know that too, didn’t you? From the look in your eyes he guessed so, fear visible in your face, staring with a scared yet defiant look on your face at him, clearly not wanting to show him how afraid you really were. But who wouldn’t if someone with scarlet red eyes was towering right over you, looking like a demon staring right into your soul? You had to know that you had crossed his line, didn’t you? So why were you still so determined to get on his nerves? Why were you still fighting? You reminded him somewhat of a cornered animal, scared and anxious, but still struggling and fighting back. And to be honest, right now the term “predator and prey” seemed to fit almost too well, you quite literally being pressed into the corner of the bathroom with Kurapika looking like he was about to snap someone’s neck, jaw clenched tightly together that you almost feared one of his teeth would break any moment, the nails of his fingers digging tightly into his hand that you were sure at any moment he would cut his palm with it.

“So what? What are you going to do now?”, you sneered at him, glaring angrily up at him. “Why am I still going?”, you asked yourself silently. You knew that he was too close to losing it and you knew that there was the possibility of you getting hurt. So why? Why were you still continuing to push him over his limits? You hated this, hated that you could never shut your mouth for once. As soon as a thought entered your head, you had to say it out loud, no matter how much trouble it would bring you later on. Small habits were indeed very dangerous. But no matter how much you had tried to keep quiet, your stubbornness had always gotten the best from you, earning you not exactly the best friends or many friends to begin with. You had always been a trouble maker and the more you were stressed out, the more you always found yourself getting harsher and bolder with your words and actions. So this had been destined from the very moment Kurapika had kidnapped you, that you two would end up in such a situation. It would have been to pretty to be true to find someone who would be able to put up with this thorny character of yours, keeping you in check. You guessed Kurapika had either underestimated your savage side or overestimated his own limits. Or maybe it had been both, but that wasn’t the important thing now.

Since the very first moment you had been stuck in this house, you had only caused troubles, rebelling in hopes that he would let you go. You had thrown away everything he had gotten you, had attacked him several times, had thrown things after him and had also caused quite the damage in the house, often hurting yourself in the process, but you hadn’t cared, knowing that it would make Kurapika go crazy. No person would have been able to endure this for too long, not even the most patient person. And so you had witnessed Kurapika getting more forceful and mad with his actions and behavior more and more, his grip when you were about to throw something at him getting tighter and tighter, bringing him to the point where he left bruises on you. He had resorted to restraining you, tying you up and locking you in your room which had only lightened the fire in you even more. So for whatever he had hoped to reach with this, it had only brought him the opposite effect, causing you to get more beastly and sarcastic with each passing day. And you didn’t know how to stop, but in such moments you didn’t care, only caring about giving Kurapika a hard time. For what had you even hoped? That he would get so feed up with you that he would end up kicking you out? It was a rather stupid hope, even though you had to admit that this was what you had hoped for a bit. But you guessed the main reason was that you had wants to bring a point over. That you wouldn’t be carved into a submissive lover from him who would play the role of the housewife.

“(y/n). Stop. Now.” Low and dangerous, you knew that one wrong word now could der him off. His eyes were telling you everything you had to know. For a moment you became quiet, glancing around the mess you had made. All tubes filled with cream, shampoo and soap were scattered around randomly, some were open and completely destroyed, the liquid that had been once in them being smeared all over the place. A pool of water had formed itself in here, causing you to sit on the wet ground. You had freely broken the shower head, water still tickling down on it. If you looked closely, you could also see the shards glittering in it, the light illuminating the fragments of the now broken mirror. And around you a light shade of red had started to taint the transparent water, your knuckles still bleeding from punching the mirror. At least you weren’t the only one who had hurt themself in the process, on Kurapika’s face being a few scratches visible too. But this had been only luck though, Kurapika being too shocked when having first entered the room to realize you throwing pieces of the mirror at him. It wouldn’t be wise to anger him more. You knew that too well. You knew that you had to keep your mouth shut. You knew that you should just apologize or even say nothing if you wanted to get out unharmed from this situation. You knew it so well.

“Or what? What will you do? Tying me up again? Starving me? Locking me away? Do you seriously think that this will work?” So why were you still continuing with all of this? Was it really that hard to keep quiet for even a short moment? At least a few minutes? It wasn’t that hard to shut up. All you had to do was closing your mouth and not opening it again. But why seemed such a simple thing to do suddenly do hard to master? It was almost like an impossible thing to do for you. You could only pray that you would magically go mute, ridiculous to think about since this impossible. “What do you even hope to reach with this? Disciplining me? Pathetic.” Your tone sounded like you wanted to pick a fight, but in reality you just wanted to run away, wanted to hide somewhere and tape your mouth with something. Everything to make you shut up. “Do you really think that this will help you reaching your goal? Bending me according to your will? Do you think telling me that you just want to protect me will work? What do you think will happen to me if you keep me isolated in here? Do you hope to break my mind? To make me think that the world is really a dangerous place? Good grief, you really are messed up, aren’t you? Why don’t you just look around once in a while to get this sense thing into your head? The only dangerous thing for me here and in the entire world. Is. You.” The last two words were hissed by you, clear spitefulness dripping from your voice.

Kurapika didn’t say anything, making you question whether to worry or not. But then he slowly kneeled down, his movements terribly slowly, putting you on high alert. He didn’t say anything, just staring at you, giving you the feeling that he could melt your skin with this intense gaze of his, the red eyes awakening the impression that his eyes were burning. Keep quiet, keep quiet, keep quiet, keep quiet. “What? Did you swallow your tongue or something like this?” You gave him this kind of smile that basically screamed fake, sending him a short glare afterwards. But Kurapika didn’t react, at least not visibly, keeping a strange stoic expression on his face. This was concerning. Instead his gaze wandered to your knuckles, skin ripped open and exposing the sensitive wounds to his eyes. For a short moment you thought that he would make a fuss about it again, preparing to throw another line at him. But before a word could left your lips, you suddenly hissed painfully, Kurapika suddenly pressing your hands tightly in a not comforting manner, making you yelp when he yanked you up back on your two feet, fingers pressing exactly on the spots where your fresh cuts and wounds were. And with a dreadful feeling you realized that he did it on purpose, knowing that he hurt you, but not stopping. He wanted to hurt you right now. Why would he do that? And why were you surprised? You had been the one who had brought this upon yourself.

“What the heck?! You moron! You’re hurting me! Let go of me! Weren’t you the one who told me a few weeks ago that you would protect me from any danger?! I don’t know if you know this with the narrowed knowledge of social acts you have, but currently you’re doing exactly what you promised to protect me from! I guess now I need someone to kidnap me so they can protect me from you!” It was your fault! Why couldn’t you accept that? “Just shut up?! Do you want to die?!”, you screamed inside your head, wanting to punch yourself or slam your head against the wall. But the most terrifying part was that despite tightening his grip on your hands, Kurapika didn’t say anything, just dragging you silently out of the bathroom. Oh yes, that was it. His silence that clearly didn’t fit the aura surrounding him, a feeling thickly painted with frustration and anger. Like the silence before a heavy storm that would destroy anything in it’s way. That was the feeling you were getting from him, causing you to react panicked, kicking and pulling desperately, trying to free yourself from his by now iron-like grip, ignoring the warm blood trickling down from the freshly reopened wound. “Let go of me! Are you deaf?! Seriously, are you really gonna hurt me?! Wow, you’ve really sunken low, haven’t you? No wonder you’re such a loner. No one wants to be befriended with such a violent and cold-hearted demon like you.” What was with you? You had been a loner too.

“The more you struggle now, the heavier your punishment will be later on.” And all it took for Kurapika was one sentence, one sharp look to paralyze you. Gosh, you were such a loser, talking almighty, but in reality not even be able to hold your own mouth. You saw all the bottled up emotions on his face, all the anger and madness swirling inside of those glowing eyes. And somewhere down there you also saw something similar to regret. And you pitied yourself in that moment too, knowing that you had just caused someone to snap who had tried his hardest to show patience with you. And he had endured it for weeks, setting a new record. No one had ever been willing to put that long up with you. And you had just pushed all of his wrong buttons and you could read from the look in his eyes that what was about to come wouldn’t be pleasant in the least bit, the sudden darkness clouding his eyes telling you that a very violent lecture was awaiting you. You could have accepted it, begged for forgiveness, tried to apologize in hopes that he might go milder on you. But you did the complete opposite. Cutting your own tongue out suddenly looked very appealing.

“Congratulations for just reaching a new kind of low. I feel glad that your clan is already dead.” And suddenly Kurapika stopped, grip on your hand tightening to the extent that you were sure that only a bit more pressure would be needed to break it. Not only that, but all of a sudden the air seemed to change, you feeling like every moment it would crush you into tiny pieces. Stop it!! “If they would see you right now they would surely turn around in their grave!” STOP IT!!! “I guess you should feel glad as well that they’re all dead by now. They would have been so ashamed of you, surely not accepting you as a clan member anymore. I mean, who would after finding out that someone from their own flesh and blood would sink that low to kidnap someone? Where’s your honor?” He had started shaking by now, the air feeling like many invisible daggers, ready to plunge into your whole body at any moment. WHAT THE HELL WAS WRONG WITH YOU?! WERE YOU A SUICIDAL MANIAC?! SHUT YOUR STUPID MOUTH?! “And now you really tell me that you try to restore those clan of yours? Give up on your silly little dream. They’re dead and you’re the last one. You want revenge? You want to bring your clan back to life with my help? You wouldn’t have to do this if you would have just been there to protect them back then. Or if you would have just died with them. Then I wouldn’t have to endure all of this. You can pretend to be my “guardian” as much as you want, but in reality you just see me as an excuse to help your own guilt, right? You try to justify your behavior by telling yourself that you want to protect me when in reality you just don’t want to live with the guilt of your failure years ago. And I’m the perfect balm for your wound. That’s so lame, you know that right? You’re so-“

“ENOUGH!” His sudden scream made you jump back, followed by a sudden crashing sound. You remained frozen, staring shocked at him. Kurapika himself seemed shaken up, returning your gaze, eyes wide and staring with a wide variety of emotions inside of them. Tears started gathering in your eyes, slowly shifting your eyes to your hand. Blood was freely dropping down from it, the whole skin having bursted due to him suddenly crushing your hand like this. But that wasn’t the most gruesome thing. It was the way your hand had suddenly twisted, the numb pain somewhere in the back of your mind helping you realize very slowly what had happened. He...had broken your hand. And the moment you finally processed what had happened, the whole impact suddenly hit you. And for a moment everything turned black in front of your eyes, the sudden pain causing you to drop to your knees, and letting out a pained and shrill scream. Kurapika himself looked like he didn’t believe what had just happened, letting shocked go of your hand which you quickly pulled to your chest.

You sobbed harshly, the pain being too much to handle for you in that moment. It was to a certain extent your fault, you knew that. But that didn’t stop you to let your tongue get the better of him. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?! You just broke my hand!! You’re a monster!! A demon!! Do me the favor and die somewhere alone and painfully!!” Kurapika had taken a few steps back, staring shocked at your hunched over form on the ground, regret an disbelief visible on his face as well as hurt when hearing your words. And just for a short moment you had the feeling that he wanted to apologize before it happened. The dark expression returned to his face, glazing his eyes and all of a sudden it was like his life spark had been turned off, his red eyes suddenly appearing more dull, causing him to look emotionless, cold to look down on you. “It’s your fault. I’ve warned you several times to stop. So don’t blame me for this. The only one you have to blame now is you.” Hot tears flowed down your face, your whole body feeling like it was on fire, not only because if the pain currently cursing through your entire system. You also burned up because of your feelings. You knew that he was right, self-shame and frustration as well as dread filling your entire mind, leading to even more tears spilling from your eyes. But what was your response?

“F-fuck you, you bastard. I hate you, Kurapika.”