#the horrifying experience of being a child in the streets

[kachawo]

What if Wei Ying turned out different? What if he had gone through much worse as a homeless child?

Heaven knows what his life was like before Jiang Fengmian found him, but it surely wasn't friendly. What if that changed him so much? The trauma ingraining itself into his brain that it becomes his main source of survival?

Yiling was a badly managed town, even the children saw that. And among the cultivation sects, none were really keen on investing their time and materials on withered soil, especially the nearest jurisdictions of Qishan Wen and Yunmeng Jiang.

That's why in Yiling, everything tagged crime can be stashed away, hidden into, escaped out of. Sects turn a blind eye to it, hell, even the previous Baron of the land didn't bother reclaiming Yiling because of its high crime rate.

It built itself up by blood money and fear, and with the Burial Mounds so close in vicinity it was much worse.

Anything and everything illegal was practically spoiled culture there.

Especially,

Especially slave traders, especially human trafficking. There was no authority to call upon, no one strong enough of a will to stop it. And so whenever Yiling hears the heart-dropping sound of golden bells chiming, the heavy hooves of a bull that carries with it a large wooden cage. They do nothing.

They can do nothing.

And there goes A-Ying, freshly orphaned, still getting a hang of wandering around the streets he would have to call his new home.

The first time it happened, his face got too close to the torch while he panicked. The large men and their ropes scared him too much and he wanted them to let go let go let go-

They didn't like how he moved around too much and tightened the noose around his neck, A-Ying suddenly couldn't breathe. He felt the bones of his weak throat cave on itself and it hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurt so bad. It made him thrash around the cage widely, using his remaining air to scream so violently that would have guaranteed his broken throat.

In his panic attack he hit his head on the splintered pole used as a torch on the corner of the cage they threw him in.

A-Ying didn't think he had the strength to scream about it, but apparently he did. He realized later that the graining sound against his ears were his blood-curdling cries, and that he couldn't feel the left side of his head.

They never took him, in the end. The slave traders complained loudly that he damaged himself and would be of no value. The large man who tied him up, held him by his hair and threw him out of the cage.

After that it was black.

You'd think that after that experience, Wei Ying would have known how to escape people like these then.

He should have died. He should have died a long time ago. When the slave traders lured him in with promise of a meal, when a drunk man mistook him for someone else and beat him with shattered wine jars, when a cultivator feigned kindness and Wei Ying took his hand--

A-Ying should have died when he was 5 when-

Wei Ying should have died when he was 7 when-

When-

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. Someone stop it STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT STOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPITSTOPSTOPSTOP

He can't be blamed! He can't deal with it! The ringing in his head has made itself a home in his head a long time ago and at that point its been a part of his life.

He's half-blind, half-dying, half a body, full of scars.

Wei Ying can't be blamed.

So when a man comes to him, on a cold winter night calling his name-- he can't be blamed.

(That was used on him several times, several ways, at this point the whole world knows his name. Maybe they were never addressing him really? And it's just so his foolish brain responded to every call hoping it was a-niang or baba who came back to get him.--

Hoping. He was hoping. Such a silly thing to do these days.)

The man wore purple robes, was surrounded by many people with purple robes. One of them approached when he didn't respond.

Wei Ying was 11 by now, 12 almost, he couldn't be blamed.

The robes were different-- a dark royal hue, but it was the same color of the- the same- and the man was approaching him too quickly he-

A child was never supposed to go through this pain. Wei Ying wouldn't know this, but he couldn't be blamed. A small tooth-dagger was plunged into the cultivator's abdomen and the man shrieked--- he couldn't be blamed.

He ran and ran and ran, the man who called his name ran after. His feet didn't acquaint well with the cold solid ground, it burned his skin ironically, but he ran with only fear to power him.

The man grabbed him by the shoulder and said his name again-- Wei Ying couldn't hear anything amongst the rapid beating of his own heart. Couldn't see quite clearly, couldn't think quite straight, he feared.

Wei Ying couldn't have been blamed. When carriage wheels screeched to a halt but it was too late-- and the man in purple had to let go of him one way or another.

He didn't stay too long to see what happened to him. He just ran and ran and ran.

Until there was no ground to run on. Until Yiling was no longer seen. Until he felt the last of his breath stolen from him.

Wei Ying falls falls fall-

His eyes close on their own, they can't be blamed.

[castiwls]

who's afraid of little old me? -s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'I want to snarl and show you just how disturbed this has made me. You wouldn't last an hour in the asylum where they raised me.'

Requested;@nix-rose

Notes;so sorry this took so long exams are kicking my ass

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Laughter rang out through the air as children ran happily around the small playground. It wasn’t often you got much free time in the towns you visited so when the occasion arose you were quick to snap up the chance.

“I miss being this carefree.” You leaned forward leaning on your knees. Sam looked at you from the corner of his eyes an unreadable look on his face. “What do you mean?” He asked taking a sip from the cup in his hand.

“I mean…I miss being a kid you know. Your biggest issue being who gets which swing or what snack your gonna have before your dinner.” You shrugged. “Simple things.” As your gaze fell back onto the small playground Sam continued to watch you.

He sat for a moment, mulling over his thoughts. He sometimes forgot that you’d both been raised very differently. While his childhood had been anything but carefree you’d seemingly spent your formative years like most children and part of him envied you for that.

He envied how normal you were. The fact that you could look at a playground and be hit with a sense of nostalgia he could only imagine in his wildest dreams. Sam let out a quiet hum before sitting back on the bench. 

You were both quiet for a moment before you turned your head to face him. You watched his expression for a moment, noticing the slight longing in his eyes. Sucking in a breath you spoke. “Your childhood wasn’t like this.” You sent him a bashful smile before placing your cup down beside you. 

Sam shook his head wrapping an arm around you. “It’s alright.” He shrugged before turning his attention back to the playground. 

It had surprised you at first when Sam and told you the details of his childhood. You’d honestly been slightly horrified when you’d first found out. The thought of growing up in that type of life had sent a feeling of nausea running through you.

It seemed a miracle that Sam had turned out the way he did. 

Though you knew that was only partly true.

“You’ve never been to a park?” You asked suddenly. “Surely either Dean or Bobby would have taken you.”

Sam thought for a moment before shaking his head. “Nope. Not even once.” His gaze hardened for a moment. “I wasn’t the type of child who went to a park.” He said simply before standing from the bench. “We should probably head back.” He offered you his hand.

Standing from the bench you took his hand and followed him from the park. You both walked in peaceful silence, slowly taking in the small town.

As you walked Sam could feel his brain working overtime as he thought through his whole childhood. Or lack of childhood. 

Situations like this made him feel cheated. Made him feel angry that he’d never been a normal child and that he’d spent his childhood dealing with things most children only saw in nightmares.

He’d always felt on the outside of society and things like this only cemented that in his mind. He couldn’t even talk to you about basic childhood experiences because he’d never had them and that thought left anger bubbling in his stomach. 

“Sam.” Your voice broke through his thoughts. Pausing in the street you turned to fully face him. “I can feel you getting tense.” You frowned slightly concerned at the look in his eyes. “I know what you're thinking and you need to stop alright? I know it sucks and I'm sorry if I could change your childhood I would.” 

You squeezed his hand. “You're not the outsider you make yourself out to be.” You smiled up at him. He watched you for a moment, letting your words settle in his mind. He let out a sigh running his free hand through his hair.

“I know. I know.” Sam frowned before shaking his head. He knew deep down you were right, that the small voice in his head wasn’t his voice of reason. You were.

Taking a breath he smiled pressing a kiss to your head. “Thank you.”

[rosalinesurvived]

Suehiro “For just five minutes I will place Jouno above justice” Tecchou coming to the slow creeping dawning clinging horrifying realisation that everyone in his group has just been brutally killed off by his captain–who brought them all together for the sake of stopping a war that never even existed, and also everyone in his group-including him-were nothing more than children dragged through the mud for the sake of being ‘slaves to society’.

Suehiro “There is evil that goes unpunished and good that goes unrewarded” Tecchou coming to the very, very, very slow realisation that his friends who fought for years on the side of supposed justice are dead, he is alone, and they never were or will be rewarded because it was their captain who cut them down, who himself turned them from street children and child soldiers into government experiments, lab rats, almost taking away their humanity, has been manipulated for decades, realising that the line between good and evil is so blurred that he can hardly even see it anymore.

The world no longer makes sense to him.

[teaboot]

you mentioned you worked security and now i’m in emotional pain because i feel deprived of feel-good security anecdotes (this was a not so subtle request for some if you have the time and/or energy, please and thank you). hope you’re having a wonderful day today!!

It's mostly confidential but if I'm vague and change details for privacy I can give a few examples of times I really enjoyed my job!

Got a vague call that someone someone "having a freakout". Arrived to find someone having a panic attack. Cleared a place for us to sit down and stayed with them. Once they calmed down they told me they'd just found out a family member had passed away. Exchanged some old stories and got to see them smile a bit before their friend arrived to drive them home.

Someone I'd removed from a place before recognized me on the street. Thought they were gonna kick my ass. We wound up talking instead- turns out they were homeless and had some addiction issues they were working through. I split my lunch with them and hung out till we went different ways.

Concerned passersby reported someone sitting under a service dog, ha people freaking out bit. Got to verify they were okay and make sure they weren't disturbed till they were ready to move on. It was nice to make sure someone could do what they needed and continue about their business without it being a big deal.

Found someone unconscious and unresponsive. Got them paramedics, paramedics took them to the hospital.

A very small child very politely informed me that they were lost, and asked if I could please help them find their mother thank you very much. Absolutely delightful kiddo, got them sorted out.

Saw a kid being absolutely reamed out by their parent for doing nothing particularly odd or rude or out of the ordinary. Asked if everything was good, and parent exhausted informed me that "Oh, sorry, they're Autistic". Looked to the kid and went, "Eyy, Twinzies!" And flashed the jazz hands. Parent looked horrified, couldn't believe I was "allowed to work there". Kid lit up like it was christmas. Spent the next few minutes making faces with the kid back and forth behind their parent's back. Hope they're doing okay.

Person I talked to fairly often, who was homeless and regularly camping around behind the property, approached me after two months away with clear skin and clean hands and informed me that they were four months clean. I don't see them around anymore. Last I heard they were moving into a new apartment.

Someone who was breaking it off with an abuser told me they'd seen them in the parking lot and asked for an escort to their car. We arranged it so I could walk with them when they left whenever they went home. Super nice person, too.

At one outdoor property with regular patrols, I'd regularly come across dead birds who'd hit the windows and fallen. Boss said to toss them in the dumpster but instead I'd take em out to the woods. Doesn't feel right to put a thing that breathed in the trash. Wasn't part of the job, but... I dunno. Brought some peace.

Dude was ripping me a new one one day, going on about my "tough guy" attitude, accusing me of harassing him, saying I'd never be a man so I should check myself. Told him "I'm sorry for your bad experience with me today. Here is my employee identification. If you'd like to place a complaint, please feel free to contact my district manager", and handed him my boss's business card. Reported the incident to my boss afterwards. He never received any calls. Felt fucking stellar

[girlactionfigure]

The Holocaust Whistle-Blower: Jan Karski

He tried to save the Jews of Europe.

Jan Karski was a Polish resistance fighter and diplomat who warned world leaders about the Nazi extermination of European Jews. Tragically, none of the leaders of Allied countries did anything to stop the atrocity – including U.S. President Franklin Roosevelt.

Jan was born in 1914 in Lodz, Poland to a devout Catholic family. His father died when he was a small child, and his mother struggled to provide for her eight children. They lived in a neighborhood of overcrowded tenements where most of the residents were Jewish. Jan attended military school where he trained to be a mounted artillery officer and graduated first in his class.

He then trained to be a diplomat, and between 1935 and 1938 he worked at Polish consulates in Romania, Germany, Switzerland and the UK.  At the beginning of 1939 Jan returned to Poland to work at the Polish Ministry of Foreign Affairs. In the fall of that year, World War II started when Germany invaded Poland. Jan – Officer Karski – was called up to lead a unit of the Krakow Cavalry Brigade. On September 10 the Krakow Army was defeated by the Germans in the Battle of Tomaszow Lubelski and Jan was captured as a prisoner of war. He managed to escape and went to Warsaw, where he joined the SZP, the first resistance movement in occupied Europe.

At that time, the Polish Government in Exile, overthrown by the Germans, was based in Paris. Jan organized secret courier missions to transport important information to the exiled Polish leaders. He traveled frequently between France, Great Britain and Poland, at great risk to himself. In July 1940 his luck ran out and he was arrested by the Gestapo while traveling through Czechoslovakia on his way to France. He was imprisoned and tortured so badly that he was transferred to a hospital. Fortunately Polish resistance leaders found out where he was and managed to smuggle him out of the hospital.

Returning to Warsaw, Jan served in the information bureau of the Polish Home Army, the main resistance movement in Poland. He and other Polish resistance leaders were horrified by the Nazi persecution of Polish Jews, and increasingly aware that the Germans planned to exterminate millions of them. Desperate to alert the rest of the world about the destruction of Polish Jewry, they chose Jan to gather evidence and then travel to Paris to report to prime minister Wladyslaw Sikorski, leader of the Polish government in exile.

Jan worked with Jewish resistance leader Leon Feiner, who smuggled him into the Warsaw Ghetto to observe conditions there. Jan later described the experience: “My job was just to walk. And observe. And remember. The odour. The children. Dirty. I saw a man standing with blank eyes. I asked the guide, what is he doing? The guide whispered, ‘He’s just dying.’ I remember degradation, starvation and dead bodies lying on the street. We were walking the streets and my guide kept repeating, ‘Look at it, remember, remember.’ And I did remember. The dirty streets. The stench. Everywhere. Suffocating. Nervousness.”

Jan also visited a transit camp for Jews on their way to death camps. He took photographs of what he saw there and in the ghetto, and carried them out of the country on microfilm. His testimony and pictures formed the first accurate account of the genocide of European Jews. Polish Foreign Minister Edward Raczynski published Jan’s reports in a pamphlet which was widely distributed. Jan traveled to several countries and met with high-level government officials including British Foreign Secretary Anthony Eden, but they either didn’t believe him, or they feared the political consequences of helping Jewish refugees.

In July 1943 Jan traveled to the United States, where he personally met with President Franklin D. Roosevelt in the Oval Office. Jan vividly described the Warsaw Ghetto and the concentration camps where Jews were being murdered en masse. After telling his grim tale, Jan expected Roosevelt to be emotionally affected and want to learn more. Instead, Roosevelt displayed no reaction and didn’t ask a single question. The president heard first-hand about the murder of millions of Jews – and saw the evidence – but he refused to help in any way and showed Jan the door. Ironically, the majority of American Jews voted for Roosevelt, and many Jews still revere him.

While in the States, Jan met with other important personages including Jewish Supreme Court Justice Felix Frankfurter. Jan told his story, answered a few questions, and then the great jurist said, “I am unable to believe what you have told me.” Like Roosevelt, he chose to ignore the inconvenient truth of what was happening to the Jews of Europe. A Polish diplomat later confronted Justice Frankfurter and asked if he thought Karski was lying. “I did not say that this young man was lying. I said that I was unable to believe what he told me. There is a difference.” The difference was likely not clear to the millions of European Jews being tortured and murdered while a Jewish Supreme Court justice chose ignorance over a difficult reality.

Jan Karski’s identity was discovered by the Nazi occupiers in Poland, and he was unable to return home. He stayed in Washington DC, and earned his PhD at Georgetown University. After graduating, he began teaching at the Georgetown School of Foreign Service. Jan remained at Georgetown for forty years, teaching generations of American political leaders about East European and international affairs and comparative government. Jan’s students included Bill Clinton and Madeleine Albright. Jan wrote several books about the Holocaust, and gave lectures around the world about the horrors he witnessed, and the tragic inaction of world leaders. He was determined to make sure the Jews of Poland were not forgotten.

Jan said that he had two missions in life. The first was to bear witness to the genocide of the Jews of Europe. The second was to reveal the tragic indifference of Allied leaders.

In 1965, Jan married Pola Nirenska, a Polish Jew who was an acclaimed dancer and choreographer. He adored her, but Pola was scarred by losing 75 (!) members of her extended family in the Holocaust, and suffered from mental health issues. Pola tragically killed herself in 1992.

Jan Karski was honored as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem. He was made an honorary citizen of Israel and received many other awards and honors in Poland, the United States, and Israel. He was nominated for a Nobel Prize. In 2000, Jan Karski was formally recognized as a human rights hero by the UN General Assembly. Soon after, Jan died in Georgetown at age 86. Jan continued to be honored posthumously, and in 2012 President Obama awarded him the country’s highest civilian honor, the Presidential Medal of Freedom. He has been the subject of multiple books, plays and movies. There is a statue of Jan sitting on a bench on Madison Avenue in New York City.

For bearing witness to genocide and speaking truth to power, we honor Jan Karski as this week’s Thursday Hero.

[that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict]

SIC PARVIS MAGNA {Charac. Profiles Pt.1}

an au by @that-irrelevant-ricecakeaddict & @seventhcallisto

SERIES MASTERLIST, Charac. Profiles Pt.2

Reader: Kang Y/N

[21 years old]

>Forensic science student at Okja Central College

>Lives in Seoultham with her elder brother, Kang Taehyun, who travels often for work but helps to pay for expenses

>One of the 2 registered residents staying at Felony Alley, Halazia Apartments

-Level 3, unit 03-01

>Works as a convenience store cashier and a lab assistant at the college when she's not in lectures or class

>Parents were killed during a break-in at their childhood home and town that her and Taehyun chose to move out of when Taehyun had enough money to take them somewhere else (Seoultham was the cheapest option)

>Rides a bike everywhere, despite how often it gets damaged or has its parts stolen by the many thieves roaming the alleys

Kim Hongjoong {Lucky Quinn}

[25 years old]

(based on Harleen Quinzel, Harley Quinn)

Backstory: Grew up in Seoultham and started studying psychology in college at a young age. At 17, he was kidnapped by and experimented on by notorious Seoultham villain The Joker. He was eventually forced to take a serum derived from the same chemicals that drove Joker insane and bleached his skin. Naturally, Hongjoong suffered from the same effects and even developed a sick admiration for the villain. He did everything and anything he could in an attempt to earn Joker's trust and approval. However, Joker and his other followers would often ostracise and abuse him, eventually kicking him out to the streets to die after a few years. Luckily for him, his childhood friend Mingi found him and took him in. With Mingi's help, Hongjoong was able to gain back some sanity and somewhat integrate back into society. Well...the society that he had known for the past few years, at least. He founded Birds of Prey with Mingi.

>Unemployed to avoid being detected by the government

>"Kim Hongjoong" was classified as dead after getting kidnapped by the Joker, so he's known by local law enforcement as mad vigilante Lucky Quinn

>Adopted his alias from his psychology professor, Prof. Quinzel, who had been with him when Joker came to kidnap him. Professor Quinzel was killed in the process, and Hongjoong wanted to honor her

>Still a little messed up in the head, but tame in comparison to how he was when he was still under Joker

>Spends his time either at New World Underground Crime Ring or back and forth between the other members' homes

>Known in the crime scene as a dangerous and violent vigilante who crashes illegal dealings and ongoing crimes, but is highly unpopular with the police for his impulsive behaviour often causing a lot of collateral damage in the city

>Learned how to fight from living with Joker for years

>Captain of the team

>Despite his impulsive and unpredictable nature, hes very caring and understanding of his members (even though their clumsiness causes him trouble occasionally)

Song Mingi {Flying Fox}

[23 years old]

(based on Barbara Gordon, Batgirl)

Backstory: Child tech genius who grew up in Seoultham. From young, he was always very socially awkward and introverted due to how much time he spent inventing and programming. He built seemingly impractical but highly advanced machinery and programmes, which he would later on make use of as a vigilante. When Hongjoong, his only friend growing up, suddenly went off the grid, Mingi dropped everything to try to track him down. After a few years, he succeeded in finding Hongjoong and took him in. Horrified after hearing of Hongjoong's experience, he soon started the Birds of Prey with him in hopes of finding other like-minded outcasts who wanted to help keep Seoultham safe.

>Computer-science student at Okja Central College

>The only other registered resident at Felony Alley, Halazia Apartments

- Level 2, unit 02-01 (reader's downstairs neighbour)

>Learned martial arts as a kid and has photographic memory

>Due to his side gig of being a vigilante, he's quite busy, so he usually only attends online classes and lectures

>One of, if not the ONLY, Birds of Prey member thats on neutral terms with the police since he occasionally helps them with detective cases

>Tech support and happy pill of the team

>A little clueless on things that aren't related to fighting or tech, meaning that, more often than not, the members have to look after him because he himself won't

Park Seonghwa {Ivy}

[26 years old]

(based on Pamela Isley, Poison ivy)

Backstory: Moved to Seoultham at 17-18 to study biotechnology and plants there. He fell in love with his biotechnology professor and let her conduct experiments on him. After undergoing the experiment that permanently altered his DNA to that of a plant's, the professor lied about having an antidote and instead abandoned him and ran away. A 19 year old Seonghwa developed hatred of women and extreme trust issues, and started isolating himself and his plants from the world. For years, he hid away from society to learn about his new abilities, and would only leave his hiding places to go to bars to seduce people that he could bring home as food for his carnivorous plants. This was how he met Hongjoong, who had been bored and wandering the streets by himself. When trying to feed Hongjoong to his plants, he was taken aback by how the light-skinned man was more fascinated than afraid. Hongjoong talked about the Birds of Prey, and Seonghwa decided to join them. The two men bonded quickly due to shared experience and trauma of being betrayed and ruined by someone they admired.

>Certified plant biologist, works as a lab assistant at Okja Central College

>Knows and is friends with the old lady who owns Halazia Apartments, hence he stays in the basement from time-to-time

-the landlady and her daughter, Chungha, are the only women he's comfortable with (before meeting reader)

>When he's not fighting crime as Ivy, he's in his "human" form

-meaning most of the time, hes just a tall, thin and pale nerd with faded red hair, and very weak presence that is often ignored by people (in comparison to his true beauty as Ivy being too distracting and dangerous)

>Spends his free time experimenting with different plants and flowers, occasionally accidentally creates drugs that he gives to Hongjoong to sell for money

>Finds comfort in being able to look after the other members

(Park) Yeosang {Orphan}

[23 years old]

(based on Cassandra Cain, Orphan)

Backstory: His parents were contract killers from a secret society, and he was trained from a young age to be a highly-efficient killing machine. He was deprived of a normal childhood and did not fully learn to write or speak, hence his lisp when talking. Mingi had ran into a 19 year old Yeosang on accident while investigating the organisation's activities. He brought him back to the Birds of Prey because he felt sad seeing how isolated and hopeless Yeosang was with the organisation.

>Unregistered in Seoultham, or anywhere for that matter (hence the censored barcode in his profile card!)

>Spends his time either as a bodyguard for Hongjoong at New World, or following around Seonghwa and Mingi at Okja Central College

>Was only referred to as "Yeosang" while training with the secret society, so he doesn't have an official surname

>Was very quiet but clingy to Seonghwa when he first joined the team, leading to his cover story of being Seonghwa's younger brother (hence why he's sometimes referred to with the same surname 'Park')

>When fighting crime, nearly his entire face is covered

>Despite his unique and advanced set of skills, he dislikes using violence and often only uses it as a last resort

>Best fighter on the team

>Doted on and babied by the rest of the team

[badplacetohaveagoodtime]

Reverse Robins fics are great. But most I've read switch up their stories. Not their backstories (Talia al Ghul's son, millionaire with neglective parents, street kid, circus kid), but things like Tim being the one that died and came back and trained with the League instead of Jason, for example.

HOWEVER

What if they keep their original stories as well? It could be pretty interesting to see what would happen if Jason had two older brothers when he died, one of whom had (has?) contacts with the League. Did Damian find out earlier that his little brother was alive? Or was it hidden from him, and does it drive a permanent wedge between him and his mother? Or maybe his grandfather was the one who took Jason in, and Talia finds out after X amount of time and informs Damian.

Did Tim go al Crazy Scientist? Did they visit his grave and found out that his body was gone, causing them to search obsessively for Jason/Jason's body?

What happens when he comes back and realizes that his place as Bruce's sidekick was taken by this child- except instead of the child being a millionaire who still has his parents, the child lost his parents in a horrifying way, and got to experience Gotham's shitty system, the one that Jason was always taught to avoid back when he lived on the streets.

Also, it would be fun to see the girls, Duke, and other Batfam members included as well. Like, where are theyyyyyyy.

[chambersandfogg]

May 30th, 1919

Somehow, I have found myself a fifty-five year old man. While I have had either the good fortune or the misfortune (all these years on and I’m still uncertain which it is) to avoid the ravages of age, my mind is that of a person who has been on this earth for five decades and seen a nearly world-ending war. One would think that these experiences would bring wisdom with them, but that remains to be seen. All I know I’ve gained is a kind of weariness that reminds me of being a boy, but now without any of those hardships.

To think of that boy now brings no small amount of relief, a bit of awe, and a certain measure of grief. My life is inarguably better than it was and yet, I have no sense of who I am really am. Perhaps it is the lack of possibility—when you are a young, the future stretches before you like an endless road. And then, over the years, you get set in your ways, your thinking, your very being. You become limited by your own experiences, perspectives, and, for most, your physical form.

I see it in my colleagues—those I still correspond with, too worried about the consequences of seeing any of them in person. They write of how they wish they could go adventuring as they always have but their heart or their bad leg won’t let them. Even John has sometimes spoken of how his leg and hip bother him, slow him down, though he talks of it as a mere inconvenience and nothing more. I try to be compassionate and understanding in my responses, though I always have to take special care writing him back on the subject, for every time I think of him immediately coming into mortal danger when arriving at the front, a kind of furious anger fills me, the likes of which I have not felt before. It embarrasses me, to still be so easily riled by the events of a war already being written about in history books, but everything with John always did provoke me faster than anything else.

I have yet to see him in person—travel still limited in the way that it is—but I fear he will try to hide from me the more serious ways in which his injuries affect him. He certainly went through a considerable amount of effort to hide the incident from me in the first place, always skating past my questions in his letters and having me write, not to the infirmary, but the neighboring town. In any event, the burns did not seem to slow him down too much during the war, considering he was right back out there far sooner than I would have preferred. I suppose I should just be grateful we’re both alive—I am grateful, deeply. But it irks me to think of him in pain or distress.

But all of that is old news at this point—I fear that he and I will discuss matters ad nauseam if we both refuse to move on. Neither one of us is very good at backing down from a fight.

Perhaps I am fixating on others’ troubles because I have so few of my own. I am certainly not resource limited. Especially since I began playing my luck on the stock market, the wealth that I have is practically unthinkable. It certainly would have been beyond the imagination of the boy who hawked newspapers on street corners to support his mother.

What would he think of me now? He would be glad, I think, to be out of the grips of poverty and equally astounded at that fact. But would he be disappointed in my fairly sedate life? Would he be horrified at my loneliness?

For all their struggles—learning a new language in adulthood, being so far from their homeland, even if there was nothing left for them in Ireland—for all the ways in which my parents were impoverished, they were never poor in company. Two people so in love they crossed the ocean with only the other to talk to; who had a child to enrich their life, not fill it; who made a warm and loving home out of a one-room tenement in the middle of a strange nation—these were not people who were lonely. It hurts to think of how they would have grown together as they aged, of the way their love would have deepened if father had never died. Perhaps mother would have been more inclined to travel, less afraid to stray too far from her husband’s grave for too long. Maybe her vibrancy and sharp mind would not have withered on the vine, the way I’ve no doubt father’s would have if she had been the one to an early grave. I never would have been company enough for either of them. No child could have filled that hole of grief.

Which is why I can never take a wife, nor have a child. It pains me—a sword in the soft spot of my chest—but there is nothing for it. Despite the fact that I’m sure I could find one—while I may not be much to look at, especially off stage, I am rich and, as far as anyone knows, of good stock and name. The myth of Charles Chambers has become so complete that no one remembers he appeared from thin air like one of his illusions. Charlie Coughlin, for them, was never alive.

So, yes, I could get a wife with ease—one who would, no doubt, be beautiful and clever and eager to start a family. Perhaps I could even contrive some kind of disguise to age with her, tell the children the truth when they are older. But I would have to watch them march off to the afterlife as well, and I’m not sure I could bear it. I’m not sure I could bear getting married—even without children—only to have to do it all over again with the same lies and secrets. When I fall in love—if I fell in love—I suspect it would be forever.

I have yet to discuss these matters with the one other person who understands, but how am I meant to write to John and ask his intentions toward marriage? I’m sure if he has eyes on someone, he’ll tell me when he means to propose. Or perhaps I will read about it in the papers like everyone else.

I know it is improper—immoral even, in some eyes—to think of such things, but even as a young man I thought that John was a striking—[the rest of the paragraph is crossed out so completely as to be unreadable]

It is best not to put it to paper, even here in the privacy of my diary. There is no point to such stray fantasies thoughts anyway.

I have forgotten father’s face. I had a photograph taken of mother and I before she passed but I can no longer conjure the feeling of her hand in mine nor the sound of her voice. Every friend or colleague I’ve ever known will someday fade from memory, or has already, vanishing like morning mist in the heat of the day.

Now, the face I see most clearly when I close my eyes is John’s. And his face, like my own, is ever unchanging.

[from the personal diary of C.X. Chambers]

[listen to New Year’s Day wherever you get your podcasts. to read the pre-1917 entries, join atypical artists and get access to the archive of 24 entries (5,000+ words), as well as ad-free episodes. to receive future monthly missives straight to your inbox, sign up for free here]

[archduchessofnowhere]

The duke [Maximilian in Bavaria] preferred to spend time in the private flat on the ground floor of the Palais Max, even in winter. Since the entrance faced the street, he could come and go without being noticed by the family. For example, when young Elisabeth was asked by the housekeeper if she had seen her father, who had just returned from a long journey, she replied: “No, but I heard him whistling”. Their contemporaries reported that Max and Ludovika often lived under the same roof for days without meeting. If the woman and the children wanted to see the duke, they would have to announce themselves to the servants. This distance was common in royal circles – the couple did not enter each other's flats, but had the chamber staff announce themselves. In the duke's case, it was a demonstration of how disruptive meeting his wife and children was to his daily routine.

Max seemed to repeat with his children what he had suffered with his father. He showed no interest in his offspring and with such clarity that his wife's relatives were horrified. Ludovika's sister, Archduchess Sophie, wrote that the fact that her brother-in-law was “not at all occupied with his wonderful treasure”, i.e. their first-born son, was evidence of frivolity and an “almost mute heart”. Elisabeth's brother, Carl Theodor, was no less severe: he called him “egoism made flesh”.

Elisabeth, who as a child was called Elise by her family, grew up under her mother's wing. Ludovika's childhood had been very different from her husband's, and equally different was the attention the two devoted to their children as parents.

The duchess also repeated her childhood experiences: for her, children were the centre of everything. If her parents already considered time spent with them a desirable family happiness, Ludovika also found fulfilment in looking after her offspring. One of her daughters-in-law even described her as “a distinctly maternal being”, seeing in her a woman who lived entirely for her children. Decades later she herself would tell her granddaughter Amalie von Urach that a woman only has her children “when men go their own way”. Despite Max's lack of interest in family life, the question of whether or not to bring offspring into the world was never questioned – as the old duchess put it, “never interfere with God's plans”. Ludovika's great commitment to her children, her passionate devotion to the role of mother at that time unusual for a woman of her status regardless of any maternal feelings, was also a compensation for the lack of attention within the marriage. Max was as disinterested in her as he was in his children, and offered her little more than a few acts of kindness. There was no relationship between the two, said Ludovika's sister Sophie, who protested: “Such indifference cannot even be imagined!”

If one investigates the reasons for Max's indifference not only towards Ludovika and the children, but also towards the judgement of those around him, one must take into account not only his sad childhood, but also the unique position he occupied within the Wittelsbach dynasty. Thanks to his family constellation, he was a very special lord of the majorat: not only did he inherit the entire family fortune, but at a young age he was never subject to any restrictions from the older and higher ranking members. Duke Max could do whatever he wanted, in the true sense of the word. Consequently, as well as displaying a strong individualism from a young age, he also developed a self-centredness that left no room for complacency towards others. Ludovika's family certainly perceived his behaviour as pure disrespect, but who was supposed to tell the duke what to do? The Bavarian king, Ludovika's half-brother, so outraged by Max's behaviour, was often on the verge of lecturing him, but for some reason he always spared him. It was he – and he alone – who was in control of the house, yet he was careful not to intervene.

Winkelhofer, Martina (2022). Sissi. La vera storia. Il camino della giovane imperatrice (Translation done by DeepL. Please keep in mind that in a machine translation a lot of nuance may/will be lost)

[thepenultimateword]

Heres a prompt idea :D

Since I've seen only a few heroes and villains interaction when it comes to meeting Kids/young teens. I wonder what different interactions or dynamics that could occur(you could also add sidekick and henchman since I rarely saw those)

CW: mention of death, parental neglect, injury, and trafficking (non-sexual)

Superhero begins training a new sidekick, Hero. A young teenager who they recruited after they saw them manifesting an amazing power. Superhero's child, Villain, becomes intensely jealous of their mentor/student relationship since they often feel neglected or overlooked by their parent because of their work, leading them into villainy in the first place.

2. When Child's family is collateral damage in a fight between Hero and Villain, Villain decides to take them in and care for them as their own. Child doesn't know all the details about their family's death, but Villain convinces themself that they don't need to explain all that just yet.

3. Hero uncovers a criminal organization that traffics kids with powers as weapons or experiments. They intercept the next shipment and escape with several of the victims. But now they have several scared, highly volatile children of different ages on their hands. There's only one person they trust to help: Villain.

4. Child is an assassin sent to kill Hero. However, Hero catches on to their intentions early on and is horrified that they've been exposed to death and crime so young. They decide to evade Child's assassination attempts for the time being while they attempt to give Child the life of a normal kid.

5. Villain told Henchman they could bring home a puppy, not a kid. Though in Henchman's defense, there was no way they could have known the stray they found was actually a human with a shapeshifting ability. And it's not like they can just throw the kid back to streets.

6. Villain infiltrates the hero agency and discovers that they have begun a cloning project to replace Hero after they die. They even already have one Hero clone, though at the moment they're only a child. Disgusted, Villain steals the newly concious clone away and takes responsibility as their "parent."

7. When Sidekick infiltrates Villain's base on a mission, the criminal's teenage henchman trails them home. Despite their standoffish personality, it turns out they aren't looking for trouble, they just need a little love and care.

8. Hero and Villain have finally confessed their feelings and started dating. The adjustment period is already challenging enough, but it becomes even more so when Hero introduces Villain to their kid(s).

9. Supervillain may be evil, but they've always wanted kids. Now that they're finally in control and their villainous background can't stop them from adopting, they take a trip to an orphanage and are immediately drawn to Villain, the most feral child there.

10. Hero is killed in action, and it's definitely not Villain's fault. That's not why they go to the funeral. Or why they push for a memorial. Or why they adopt Hero's orphaned kids when they find out they were a single parent.

11. Hero is an unpowered member of the agency, but somehow they get paired up with a very, very, powerful rookie as a sidekick. Sidekick is young and reckless and not fully in control of their powers, so it's going to take a lot of work for Hero to keep them under control.

12. Child is what people would call inhuman, but that doesn't matter at all to Scientist and Villain who are used to not fitting in with normal society.

[countessofravenclaw]

I finally got write some Roller Crew being parenst content. This is quite a fun conversation because, Laura and Ivory are besties, but also Gastina's youngest child and Simbar's oldest... Enjoy a snippet

“Did you already drop the girls off?” Ambar’s face showed up on the video call.

“Yep, long time ago,” Gastón answered. Nina leaned her head on his shoulder.

“How did it go?” Ambar asked. “Did you go in with them?” 

“Well,” Gastón shrugged, “and no, I didn’t. I wasn’t allowed to, you know, for the street cred. We all know they will be fine anyway.” 

“So you didn’t see what sort of accommodations they got?” Ambar kept asking. 

“Darling, what are you doing?” Simon’s head showed up behind Ambar. “Oh hey! Did the girls get off alright?”

“They did,” Gastón nodded, “As I was just about to say to Ambar, I didn’t go in, but the place looked fine. Pretty standard sports academy. Not any sort of luxe hotel, but I think they’ll survive.” 

“Why were you even asking about that?” Simon looked at Ambar. “You weren’t expecting some sort of luxury, for a sports camp, right? You were the one who wanted the girls to go to the nearest public school so we can agree that they don’t need luxury.”

“I wasn’t expecting any luxury,” Ambar glared at Simon playfully, “but surely I am not alone when I don’t want them to sleep in a moldy cabin in the woods.”

“Yeah, there were no woods at all.” 

“I just still keep wondering how the camp fee was so cheap?” Ambar shook her head, “We didn’t have time to vet it when girls found it online.”

“Well, you don’t need to worry about it,” Nina started speaking, “I wouldn’t call it vetting, but we did look it up. It’s run by a church sanctioned nonprofit.” 

“Oh.”

“Apparently lots of the kids attending those camps are being provided aid by the non-profit, because they wouldn’t otherwise be able to afford it. They get it half free at least.” Gastón explained, “I have been meaning to look into the organization, see if they accept anonymous donations.”

“It’ll probably be a little different environment,” Nina nodded, “but would be good for the girls, before they start at Blake. Not that they care about those things, but a change of scenery is always for the good.”

“I definitely agree with that,” Simon agreed, “I grew up sleeping in a bunk bed, so you need to experience that at least once in your life. Camps are always so fun.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Ambar shook her head, “It is very good that they went, even if two weeks is a little long… I’m just glad that Ivory has something to do. We’re so busy and summer has just started.”

“Sorry, can't relate with that,” Gastón grinned, “Corporations are summer vacation and so is UCA, so I’m free, outside of a few thesis supervision, but those are not a bother.”

Gastón was such a popular professor in UCA, that almost all of the students who had had his classes wanted him to supervise their thesis. He had had to put a hard limit on three students per year a long time ago. 

“Actually on Monday we are taking off to Santa Cruz. Gonna go take some pictures at the Los Glaciares national park.” Gason looked at Nina, “Now that Laura’s off at camp, we are giving Oscar and Aurora a chance to prove that the house won’t burn down if they’re left by themselves for five days.”

“Vacation? Ah, I would love that,” Simon groaned, “Not us. Pedro and I are going back to the studio to do some recording. We won’t be free before the end of January.”

“And I have at least two court dates in need of my appearances,” Ambar shook her head, “Maybe three, if that one case gets drawn out. We need to figure out something for Esme to do, since I can’t take her to the courthouse.”

“She used to love to come to the studio, but now she complains how boring it is there,” Simon grimaced.

“That’s how teenagers are.”

“She just turned 13, my little gemstone can’t be a teenager yet,” Simon’s face turned horrified. 

“We’ve all been there,” Gastón laughed, “There will always be the time when you little girl decides that she doesn’t want to be a child anymore.”

“We probably didn’t tell you that right before school got out, Laura got in her head that she wanted to dye her hair platinum white,” Nina explained, “We shot that down very quickly. Said that she can have some lighter highlights if she wants, but not that drastic of a full hair change.”

“When she’s 18, she can have full responsibility for those sorts of decisions,” Gastón continued, “but…about Esme. Doesn’t she like chemistry?” 

“Yeah, she does,” Ambar nodded, “Always gets mad at us, when we don’t allow her to mix kitchen soap with all sorts of things.”

“How did I not tell you about this?” Gastón questioned out loud, “There are these summer science workshops held in UCA in summer, for middle schoolers. Few of my star students are TA:ing that. You’d think Esme might like that?”

“She would probably love it,” Ambar exclaimed. “It’s held at UCA? with what sort of timetable?”

“9 to 4 I think. ” Gastón responded, “It starts next week.” 

“Is there still time to sign up?”

“Check the website. I’m not involved with it myself, if I wasn’t a part timer, I probably would bea.” Gastón thought. 

“We'll try. That would be perfect.”

“Tell me if you can’t get her in.” Gastón nodded, “I do know the professor running the program personally, so I can get her in.” 

“Thank you.” Simon made a few gestures with his hands, “Who knew that your kids growing up would be such a hassle?”

“Tell me about it,” Ambar chuckled, “We need to figure out when the Blake Freshmen parents’ conference even is.” 

“At the end of February,” Nina responded, “it’s always the same day, and has the same contents.”

“We probably wouldn’t even need to attend it anymore, we know it by heart,” Gastón rolled his eyes, “Third times the charms and thankfully the last.”

“Well, this is our first,” Ambar remarked. “Ivory’s is seriously starting Upperseconday school.”

[mdhwrites]

Since you started Arcane I gotta ask. I think you mentioned about Powder not reacting accordingly to her family death from the bomb... on that scene she was sorry to Vi she messed up not that she killed their father basically. Vi reacted "normally" but Powder didn't show any remorse.

Do you think she became numb to "death" since she witnessed it from a young age with her parents on the bridge? Vi was a bit older so maybe she conceptualized it already. Since then it's clear they faced death many times around, Zaun is harsh environment/upbringing after all, what's horrible to us is average there. I think she may have became a sociopath from it. Vi as well to an extent but only to strangers, death of close ones will still affect her, Jinx cares if only Vi dies tho (well not just her. Actually I'd add more to that but it'll be spoilers until u finish so I'll wait)

So first: I won't be finishing Arcane. That sucks but at least until I can bury my own trauma from my brother, I just can't have that casting a shadow over it. It'll make it hard for me to enjoy any of it, let alone review it properly.

However, I actually want to rebuff this analysis of how Powder reacts and try and be a bit fairer myself. First: She does technically react to her father's death but she never apologizes. She instead acts like a small, frightened child. She starts shutting down, wanting to be assured things will be okay. That things are okay. It's a very classic response to this sort of trauma, not helped by the fact that, as someone else pointed out, Vi had taught her to react to things with violence but now violence was getting her in trouble.

That is the counterpoint though, isn't it? Milo says in the first episode that Vi was twice the person Powder was and I kind of have to wonder if that meant she actually, you know... Was a member of Zaun. Was a member of the violence and trouble. Even worse when you remember that while they're young, Powder still looks at least 5 during the battle at the bridge that claimed their parents. That KILLED their PARENTS. And she isn't breaking down or running from the scary man who just murdered an enforcer in that scene.

And the rest of the first three episodes are warring with itself over how to write Powder. Is she a ruthless child of Zaun, out for blood and to make a name for herself? The sort that would have absolutely godlike aim even at her age, at the point where she can far surpass others who are years older than her with ease? All while having a cold, expressionless face until she's done with her task? Or is she the innocent? The one who can only run and who seems damn near traumatized by the sight of just a street brawl happening in front of her? The noise fades out and echoes while things go into more slow mo like most media does to show something horrifying, which the street fight in episode 1 seems to supposed to be for Powder, but like... Is that REALLY the first street fight she's seen? Milo even says she needs to take a punch like she's literally never been hit, which does have the horror of Vi being the first person to hit her but this is the same person who made an explosive monkey filled with a material she knew could do some REAL damage to people and property.

It's still done well enough that Powder isn't awful. The pain of the last scenes of episode 3 are still mostly earned and I even admitted in my original review that I had to recognize that I had a problem due to personal elements. After all, characters can be multifaceted, have different sides to them, etc. like that... But that works a lot better for adults like Vander who have had the life experience to turn one side on and one side off. Even then, you still see a core of a person in there.

Meanwhile, Powder is fighting between the innocent little girl who's meant to die and her champion form, Jinx, and those parts to me are just a bit too incongruous. A little too at odds without a bit more smoothing out. It's SO close to being right though that I do want to cut it more slack than I originally did.

[fluorescentbalaclava]

I want to know your background stories for your tavs please

Mine is a tiefling bard named Elysen and I imagined her being born into two human parents, that were followers of Tyr but they were on the religious freakish side so when they realized they had a child with hellish ancestry they were horrified, but tried to keep cool at first as it was just a baby. So they named Elysen that means "God's promise" or "God is my oath" with the hopes they could look past her being a tiefling. But they ultimately couldn't, and when she was a bit older and started to grow horns they traveled from Neverwinter to Baldur's Gate and abandoned her there.

There she stole and did what she could to eat, she slept in alleys, or searched for garbage. And then she once saw a fair and a bard playing in there. She was enchanted by the stories and the music, and the bard was kind to her despite her living on the streets and being a tiefling, and right there she decided she wanted to be a bard as well, when she grew older. So she started singing on the streets, and even managed to get some money to live by that way.

When she was a bit older and became a better singer, a circus invited her to join, promising her fame, a public and most important, a place to sleep in. So she accepted, but the people in the circus wasn't the best with her, making her take care of all the cleaning and maintenance for the circus, and they made her learn all kinds of songs and instruments all day so she could get better tips from clients by making a more personalized experience despite the race or background of the costumers. She barely did anything else all day, and there she learnt not only to write and read but also to be able to read music. The other big part of her day was spent performing, and despite liking it, she was exhausted and tired, sometimes ending up without voice and with her fingers bruised. She thought it was still better than begging on the streets so she stayed, putting on a smile and being pleasant with the public in every performance. The circus traveled all over Sword Coast, and a few years later they were invited back to perform in Baldur's Gate in a court party. There she was praised and she was bought by some old nobleman who also had aspirations of being a talented musician in his youth but he had no talent or skill to make it possible, so he became a magistrate. So he took her in, and became her patron. He paid tutors for her to become a court bard, to make her talent appealing enough for the court, to make her witty, smart and charming enough for everyone to be delighted by her. And with time she eventually became a court bard, but the other court bards didn't like her, mostly for being a tiefling, so they often said behind her back that she was only kept around like a cute pet for the court, not as an actual bard.

But she's actually happy with how far she is, and she feels she has the chance to actually make a name for herself in all Sword Coast...but then she was kidnapped by the mind flayers in Baldur's Gate and when she realizes she's far from court and alone again, she freaks out.

[runawaycarouselhorse]

[Fruits Basket: Prelude mini-review, spoilers, CW for attempted suicide, organized crime, parental neglect, age gap, and whatever else I can't remember right now.]

I finally saw the Fruits Basket: Prelude movie! The first half hour is, effectively, mostly a recap, but I liked getting perspective from Kyo's perspective and most reassuringly, him finally understanding the "I won't forgive you..." was about the "a man's promise" to protect Tohru. ;___;

I did not expect young Kyouko's life to be like this. This was a shock... her family life was also such garbage, yikes...

(Call the police on what, a girl sleeping in the streets?!)

GOD, I hate parents who are obsessed with their image and what will people say, your child is suffering, why is this what you care about? (Ironically, she really seemed to care more about Kyouko than her husband did--her husband's like fine, whatever at this random guy proposing in front of him and she's just like pleading, but cannot change things.)

I ship a lot of age gap ships, but usually only ones in historical or fantasy settings, where it's normal, if it's in a modern, realistic setting like this one... it feels a little too close to reality and man, I was fine with Kureno and Arisa because the difference was small and Kureno had basically the life experience of a middle schooler before Akito divorced him from reality to stay by her side reassuring her, but Katsuya and Kyouko... D:;;;;

Katsuya was pushy, Katsuya's weird reaching over the table from behind (I would've either frozen in fear or kicked behind me like a mule, unsure which--damn, that was creepy), making big ol' life decisions on his own, I found his behaviour predatory and his personality... very strange!

I never expected this. Katsuya's whole personality was a surprise. The extremely polite speech coupled with his very, very unorthodox and does-whatever-he-wants-on-a-whim personality was so incredibly bizarre. He DOES make an interesting character, fascinating, not entirely likeable, but the relationship feels such a weird fit for Fruits Basket (...... then again, exhibit C: Akito and Shigure.)

They did make a lovely family together, though, and the scene where Kyouko's in tears and horrified about being pregnant because she doesn't think she has the capacity to raise another human being, because her life was so messed-up was so sad and poignant.

I don't hate Katsuya, but the ship had such a weird start, I do like that he saved her, but the ship's just not my cup of tea, but it's an important part of the story and Kyouko's story too, and Katsuya's character actually was fascinating and unique.

His comforting her with the fact that she realizes it's another human being, she'll be alright. Remember what makes you happy and what makes you sad. Raise them while remembering that. Basically, treat them as you'd want to be treated as a human being, and if you lose control, apologize, and embrace them again. That was powerful.

Kyouko realizing how she must've hurt her mother with her words was also a good moment (... even if Kyouko's parents are objectively bad people, her mother still cared... a bit...)

It reminds me of the moment where Kyo heard his father blaming him and had that realization that this was probably exactly what he used to do to his wife and suddenly, understood it was his father who drove her to suicide with all his blaming of her.

Tohru was such a cute baby. Such a cute, quiet child. ;_; Very relatable and endearing and ah... even when she was effectively left to starve, she didn't complain, she just kept waiting for her mother to notice her. I understand why she felt, back then, that she hated her father and he would take her away.

I already hated Katsuya's family so much for the rumours about Tohru, but hearing the stuff they said about Kyouko when Katsuya died too… wow, you gossip-mongers won't rest even during a funeral. Push a woman to suicide with your constant rumours and blame.

That scene where Kyouko's saved from her suicide attempt by hearing another random child cry "mommy!" was so, so, so poignant and powerful and beautiful.

Kyouko and Tohru's love for each other remains absolutely precious and Tohru imitating Katsuya's speech... it's interesting we don't really hear Tohru speak at all before that, likely because this is from Kyouko's perspective and she can't remember the last time she spoke to her, because she's been swallowed up in the grief over losing Katsuya.... but Tohru's sad little attempt to keep her in her life by imitating her father stole her heart.

Little scenes I also enjoyed: Kyouko yelling at the ocean reminded me of Kyo challenging the ocean, PFFT.

There were some really great comedic moments, I LOVED Kyouko freaking out over Tohru's little nosebleed, that was such a realistic scene, the parent panicking and the child just being totally fine and smiling, even while bloody, reminds me of my own kid sibling... very funny.

Also loved the wedding dress scene, hilarious. No ceremony for you.

[thefamilyeldritchabomination]

Chapter Thirteen: The Greatest Show on Earth/Ad Astra Pt. 3

Slowly, Envy lifted their head back up from the deep thought before looking down the hallway. A part of Envy did want to check in on how Dolly was doing while the other part wanted to end the day after learning that revelation. Ultimately, Envy opted to head for their room and escape through the window there to tour around Central. Carefully closing their bedroom door behind themself, Envy started walking up to the window. The enforced curfew would be an issue thanks to Pride and his massive scale tantrum, but Envy had a solution under their sleeve for such a situation. Envy wasn’t in the mood to play guard outside, it would only aggravate them while trying to relax as Envy shifted their form once the window was opened. It wasn’t often Envy did this as it had disadvantages, but in this case, it was acceptable as Envy leaped out the window as the most horrifying cat imaginable. They landed smoothly as Envy stretched out this awfully emaciated form with too long limbs and torso to match, milky white eyes peering about to see where to exit the estate at. This cat form, if one could call it that, was a special form for stealth travel without being bothered much due to just how diseased looking it was. 

 The journey through the yard of the estate took a bit before Envy could find the wall to scale up against before running free into the street patrolled Central. The cold pavement crushed beneath Envy’s managed riddled paws as they went on their nighttime trot, looking around for what trouble they could cause before checking in on Lust. A little ‘fun’ of traumatizing some guards should be the exact thing Envy could relax with as they reached the town. The decayed tooth smirk started to grow on the feline-like face of Envy when they spotted two patrolling state alchemists perfect for a traumatizing experience. Quickly, Envy hid themself in the alley to await their two victims. Clearly,even after managing to survive the initial Ernest laboratory escape, these two particular state alchemists had apparently insulted the universe somehow and the universe was coming for blood. The pair had been chatting happily, sharing some doughnuts they had picked up to liven their situation up when the sound of a small child singing could be heard. At first, the two men had thought it had been a simple case of someone’s child having slipped out of the homes as they approached the alley. Slowly, the child-like voice started to distort and deepen as the Alchemist got closer until it was a low, rumbling growl. 

 Before the two state alchemists was this scaly and mange riddled cat that was stretched beyond imagination as two milky white eyes stared at them. The men were frozen in place at the sight of the unseemly animal as its head seemingly dislocated from the spinal cord, flopping lazily as this bile-like saliva emanated from its maul. Slowly, the men started to back away from this diseased nightmare as it quickly on spindly limbs climbed the side of the building like a spider before charging at the two state alchemists with a high pitched scream. Reasonably, the two men went screaming for their lives, dropping their bag of donuts and ran out of the alley as Envy laughed at a well done bit of ‘fun’. There was even a little reward too of free donuts as Envy quickly shifted a paw into a little humanoid hand to grip the bag with. With their ill-gotten trophy in monstrous hand, Envy scurried up on the building in that gecko-like shuffle towards the apartment complex. The donuts themselves should serve well as a peace offering to an irate Lust over the mummy situation.

 The cityscape above was crawling with guards as Envy made their way to the apartment complex, looking at this thing called ‘humanity’. They spend so much of their small lifespan learning as much about everything as possible, yet there they were, scurrying about like insects in a hive in preparations for attacking something that could be considered an anteater. This would be laughable to Envy, but they couldn’t find that urge to laugh like they would at their insignificant existence. Pride had absolutely derailed the plan and Dante was certainly going to be acting desperate soon at the crumbling of the plans for a Philosopher’s Stone. For the first time since working under their Mother’s leadership, Envy started to have second thoughts now about letting her continue to live. Sure, it was a joke in Envy’s eyes about killing Dante when Dolly first brought it up, but now that the situation was changing, it was less of a joke and more of a sensible action. Envy didn’t want to lose Lust and Gluttony, they had grown close to those two over the years. Wrath and the homunculus Hughes, however, they were a bit more neutral towards. They could be released into the wilderness safely since Wrath and Hughes did prove to be able to survive in those conditions. Clearly, the two would be fine with that deal as the familiar apartment complex came into view. 

 Inside the apartment complex, Lust had sat down to drink her nightly tea after a rather interesting day of body disposal as the rasping of horrible claws could be heard from the window. There at the window, the most diseased looking cat was looking at Lust, holding up a bag of donuts to her. With a sigh, knowing damn well who it was, Lust got up to let Envy into the apartment since they did bring free donuts. Smirking, Envy jumped into the apartment as they shifted into their preferred form, handing the donuts to Lust as Envy made their way to the table. A part of Lust had wanted to call up Hughes and Gluttony back to the room, however those two were busy with the current round of disposal. Envy, who sat smugly at the table, raised an eyebrow when they finally noticed the all too familiar smell of a burnt body lingering in the room. Lust, however, went to sit back down at the table to drink her tea as she waited for Envy to ask the big question.

 “Lust, why the hell does the apartment smell like a crematorium?” Envy scrunched up their nose a bit in disgust at the odor.

 “Fun little fact, new Pride can apparently shoot heat rays from his eyes as an ability. So, we’ve been using that to incinerate all the mummies we’ve found so far.” Lust sipped her tea as she let that sink into Envy’s brain for a moment.

 “He can do what!? Why did that joke get the cool ability instead of me!?” Envy yelled, annoyed that they weren’t given the amazing ability to incinerate people by simply looking at them.

 “Seriously, that’s your take away from this revelation? Envy, if Hughes remembers that you were the one that killed him before, that heat ray will be coming right at you.” Lust bluntly stated as the gears in Envy’s head started to turn.

 “What if I convince him to use the heat ray on Dante instead?” Envy said offhandedly, catching Lust off guard at the suggestion.

 “Envy, why would you suggest something like that?” Lust lowered her cup of tea, concerned with what she just heard come out of Envy’s mouth.

 “I just came to realize that humanity wasn’t going to bring about their own self destruction, how their existence is a beautifully worthwhile thing, and it’ll likely just be destroyed by Dante if she keeps up with that damned quest for the Philosopher’s Stone.” Envy said flatly, not making eye contact with Lust.

 “You realize I can understand that was the most bullshitted lie I’ve heard from you, right?” Lust looked right at Envy as she sipped her tea, waiting for a better reason than the sappy lie that was told.

 “Fine, I was hoping you’d take the sob story, but since you insisted so much, I’ll tell you the straight up truth. You were right, Dolly isn’t a homunculus and I have no clue what she is, but from what I learned, Dolly has some things Dante wants. Because of how derailed the plan is thanks to Pride, Dante is going to be a lot more desperate now and unhinged.” Envy looked at Lust for a moment for her reaction.

 “That took you a lot longer than I was expecting for you to be on the same page as Gluttony and I. Now that you’ve told me the truth, what exactly are we going to do?” Lust was done drinking tea and was invested in where this plan was going.

 “Going forward, once the stone is made, I want you to take Gluttony, Dolly, Dorian, and the Face Fur if he isn’t used as cannon fodder away from Central to lay low. I’ll handle Dante myself and we’ll meet up once she’s gone. If I don’t return in a fortnight, leave the country all together, but most importantly, keep referring to Dolly as a homunculus no matter what.” Envy instructed now that a plan had been formed in their head.

 “No, that's an incredibly stupid plan, you’re better off with the vaporization plan with Hughes. Though, I would like to know why you’re being insistent on calling Dolly a homunculus.” Lust tapped her fingers on the table a bit as she awaited an answer.

 “You know how I said I had no idea what Dolly is? That’s the same case with Dolly, she has no clue what she is either. I feel it would just be in Dolly’s best interests to be called and considered a homunculus from now on….Damn it, that Face Fur infected me with empathy.” Envy cursed as they planted their face into the table.

 “Envy, if this is the case, I think it would absolutely be in Dolly’s best interest to start living with us instead of the human family she’s been living with.” Lust gently picked up the bag of donuts to pick one out.

 “Explain that part right now, I thought you’d be against it.” Envy lifted their head back up after hearing what Lust said.

 “You know damn well we’re functionally immortal including Dolly. Humans, however, are not and Dolly has been living virtually alone for god knows how long witnessing the death cycle countless of times. In short, Dolly needs to start living with us for her own mental wellbeing.” Lust picked out a jelly roll as she explained her reasoning to Envy.

 “When you put it like that, then yeah I’ll be getting Dolly into our group immediately. I can definitely pull the Face Fur’s strings like a puppet to meet that end. Though, I’d have to make a trip to pick out a proper household before the matter of the stone is over.” Envy pulled the bag of donuts over to themself and picked out a buttercream filled donut.

 “This has been a rather shockingly productive conversation in a long time. Now, for the killing of Dante, what was your original plan?” Lust seemed a bit surprised with how well the conversation had gone. “Simple, trick her into drinking your blood, that should do the job nicely.” Envy said with a smirk as they ripped a chunk of the donut with their teeth.

 “And now it’s no longer productive. Just ask Hughes politely to vaporize her, it's quick and painless that way.” Lust gave a bit of the glare after that disturbing reminder of the rat experiments.

 “You know, I should do the same test with Hughes’s blood next, maybe it’ll give an even more gruesome result.” Envy took a pause from their donut mauling to ponder what horrors Hughes’s blood could hold.

 “I swear that tracked mind of yours will land you into hot water one of these days.” Lust groaned out of frustration as the door opened up to Gluttony and Hughes returning from incinerating mummies.

 “Wait, I thought the Donut shop was closed due to the curfew?” Hughes asked as he looked at the bag of donuts at the table.

 “I got them for free, now dig in.” Envy motioned for Hughes to take a donut.

 “What’s the catch? My eyes are sore from vaporizing mummies.” Hughes asked as he sat down at the table.

 “Can you not accept it as a gesture of good will?! However, since you did bring it up, I could use a sample of your blood.” Envy gave a malicious smirk as they watched for Hughes’s reaction to the request. “Damn it Envy, we are not doing that rat experiment again!” Lust nearly choked on her tea upon hearing that come out of Envy, cutting Hughes off from responding.

 “Dare I ask what the rat experiment was?” Hughes managed to ask, not liking the idea of donating blood to one of the most vicious homunculus of the group. “Awful, it was awful and scary.” Gluttony mumbled, shivering even when recalling the dreadful rat experiment from memory.

 “That’s an excellent way to describe it, Gluttony. Look, Envy, we can just ask Hughes to vaporize the power hungry old hag instead of that blood idea.” Lust looked ready to have an argument with Envy about the situation as Envy got up.

 “I made the claim on killing the death fearing hermit crab, I won’t be handing it over to the one month old baby over there. I’m heading back to the Armstrong Estate, enjoy your free donuts.” Envy stated coldly as they opened the window, leaping out as they shifted back into the cat abomination.

 “...Envy has absolutely been spending too much time around Dolly.” Lust sighed in annoyance as she tried to get her nerves under control.

 The cold night air greeted Envy as they trotted along the roofline of the city to make their way back to the estate. While their suggestion to use Hughes as the murder weapon was merely to break the news to Lust about killing Dante, Envy had no real intentions of letting Hughes do the deed. It wasn’t just so Envy could kill her themself, but rather, Envy knew damn well that Dante definitely had Hughes’s remains on hand. The only real challenge for Envy was how exactly were they going to kill Dante since they still have that block going on. Envy hadn’t told anyone about their inability to murder anyone just yet, they simply wouldn’t tolerate any form of pity or mockery. So, Envy kept silent about it as they arrived back to the estate, paws softly patting away on the manicured lawn. There came that pause once again from Envy as they looked at the window to the room where Dolly was sleeping in. It would be a prime opportunity to see what exactly Dolly looked like as Envy gave into curiosity as they leapt onto the window sill. 

[okamiden-holiday-special]

[Excerpts] Moments in Time - Changeling & Death

[these segments were little studies into how to describe death and the aftermath of waking up in a new lifetime, dazed and dissociated. i also toyed with having each death take a toll on clara's body, losing fingers and eventually an eye with each failed attempt. there were also plans to explore the pathologic 2 meta-worldbuilding of the events being a play, but i went in a more overt paradoxical manner]

Death was a peculiar experience. Peculiar was a good way to describe it, as “harrowing” or “traumatizing” would be too little on a bad day, yet “panic-inducingly nightmarish” or “soul-shattering” is a bit much on a more pleasant day. Waking up from death was disorienting and a small bit horrifying, but she’d still come back up. The mere ability to stand up after such events was already significant enough to put them a peg down in the “mildly upsetting events to once-in-a-lifetime debilitating horror” scale.

Sometimes, she would run into the Bachelor in alleyways where one could try and fail to sort the shades of shadow between light and dark; or encounter the Haruspex on the edge of town where the steppe would lap at the fragile order constructed by the people of the settlement. Even less times, during those encounters, she’d be pensive, murmuring aloud the experiences of death and rebirth as if to make them somehow more real, spoken into lucidity. The men would listen, awed, enraptured, or disturbed, perhaps even bored, as she droned about horror and numbness, footsteps too light for a corporeal person, but too heavy for a ghost.

“What ho, did I see over yonder, I say? I welcome blades into myne bodies but somehow the cut still hurts like an intrusion, I suppose the skin was still broken into. How could I open my skin without it being a wound? No doors, only walls. Skin. Stranger still that when I grow accustomed to the pain it numbs and fades, cruelly depriving me of what I had made friends and peace with.” She kicked a pebble, the sound disturbing her into looking back at Burakh, who sat still, silently listening to her on the abandoned railway. He was picking away at a clump of grass. “No, not grass, swevery. Why, all grass has a name, and yet we only call upon it when it suits us. ‘Come, Clara, do us a miracle’, ‘Step aside, little Changeling, you’re in the way’. Names are what carry legacy, reputation, without a name I am only a different apparition with the same face. How could they know it was the same body if they did not see where I left to, where I came from? No name, no reputation, no recollection. What name did I hear in the darkness of the earth as I lay on my gravesite, waiting for my return? The dirt has no use for names…”

“A name given could be abandoned, yes. Who did give me my name? I cling to it still, like a child hugs a toy from a parent long gone, not even remembering their mother’s face. Tragic, tragic. Tragedy is meaningless to who dies, it is only a tragedy to Medea, yet her children see none of it, as only the living fear death. Medea? Who is Medea? Am I living or dead? Where have I heard that name? Is it latin?” The street was cold under her fingers, but they were too numb to notice. Dankovsky paused his rummaging of pockets from nearby, eyes darting to her before cutting the hum of the night stating “...It’s greek, actually.” Yet she did not acknowledge him as he sighed. “The time between death and awakening is always infinitely small, like waking up without knowing I was asleep in the first place, disorienting, yes, disorienting. Was I even oriented in the first place? Dreams happen stretched into the time we sleep, taking up time that does not exist when we are awake, yet we retain the memories. No memories, some memories, yet not of the past, of the present, and memories of the future still. Yet they don’t always match, a match that does not catch, yet it still burns away, to ash, to ash, to ash…”

~+~

The Changeling was without an eye. She could feel it, or the lack of it, as it were. Lacking an eye, two fingers, three doctors. What a sore sight. Literally.

– The cost is too high. I've played this too many times. I can no longer bear the brunt of such a toll. The Tower will fall. The Town will be leveled. My Bound will be sacrificed. Is it too selfish of me to wish to perform the ultimate miracle? Is it selfless enough of me to desire to save them all? I am the Devotress, my last wish every time is that I could've found a better way. I wake up as a Changeling after my death throes. 

Clara ran. She didn't know why, but there remained a sinking feeling of dread, alongside the stinging of the harsh breeze, cold. Her legs carried her to the theater, where the Changeling stopped at the lip of the stage, boots almost escaping its domain. The director turned towards Clara, away from the winded girl onstage, frozen in a moment of desperation. 

A theatrical sigh, befitting a man such as he. “You're downright terrible at meeting your cues, Changeling. Which is it this time, too early? Or too late?”

She passed by him with nary a glance. “I'd prefer my arrival to be too early, if it's all the same to you.” Clara reached out to the Changeling onstage, breaking the barrier between them and taking her own warm hand.