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fancyfeathers · 7 months ago

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zainiscompletelydone333 asked a question

omg but imagine william's potential darling to be like agatha christie? a mystery writer whose mysteries are almost impossible to solve. whether or not they are as smart as the masterminds or detectives in her books, her stories do come close to confusing even sherlock or william a bit. if you've read her "and then there were none" SPOILERS its about a judge killing people for being evil and that is so william coded. anyways i'm straying far what I mean is william could be a quiet fan, and as the lord of crime, even replicate some of her stories as part of his crimes. watching his darling's face pale at the unknown criminal doing such a thing.....ASDKSHD an when he finally does officially meet her, he wonders if she'l ever base a character off him. a hero, or perhaps a villain?

For some reason this isn’t showing up in my tumblr inbox but thank god for my email cause this is a gem! Thank you @zainiscompletelydone333 for this!

Okay I love Agatha Christie, an actual icon! Fun fact she actually faked her own disappearance in 1926 and the police couldn’t find her for over a week and she just took a vacation to London after her husband threatened to leave her and she said fuck it and decided to treat herself. Then also Arthur Conan Doyle the author of Sherlock Holmes was hired to find her.

Anyway I am getting so off track but I love this lady so much so here we go!!!

But yes William would absolutely adore a darling like her. Imagine him first finding her works for the first time, perhaps one of his brothers or Sebastian or Fred was reading her work and just out of curiosity he picks up one of her books and is just immediately enthralled. Whenever he is not busy he is reading or even rereading one of her books and even begins to be teased by others for his slight addiction to her works.

Then when he and Sherlock is on the train investigating the murder that is when he gets an idea from both this and one of her books.

Weeks later an aristocrat who had been acting as a loan shark was found dead on a train in his compartment, stabbed a dozen times, his door locked from the inside, just like a murder from one of her most famous book…

But what William did not know is that she was on that same train…

And of course she found the body…

As William was making his way back to his seat to join his brothers, he hears a blood curdling scream and he simply chalks it up to someone finding the body. Then the panicked woman is brought to her seat by the staff and she looks a mess, pale faced, tears rolling down her face, hyperventilating, all things someone should be after seeing a dead body.

She is being asked questions when she finally calms down enough and William’s ears prick up as he hears words he never thought he would hear…

“Oh god… this is my fault…”

He turns his head to the booth next to him and sees her in absolute terror as she speaks to the train conductor.

She is right next to him…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

After everything from that incident had settled and she is off at home, trying to work on her next work for the life of her but being horrified by what she just witnessed…

Then more deaths come to surface all with the same pattern…

They are based on her books…

The author is absolutely horrified, she is loosing sleep, not eating as she should, and has rarely left her house in weeks…

Then she gets a knock on her door from a certain detective who was hired to look into one of the deaths, Sherlock Holmes. While he may like her books, he has noticed the pattern like she has and has one request for her…

“I want to help you to solve these cases. Who better to solve murders based on books better than the author herself?”

At first she refuses and dismisses him, but then when she is laying in bed that night she realizes he was right.

Her drawing room becomes a mess of her old notes that she had tucked away from when she wrote her book, copies of her her books with dozens bookmarks in them, newspaper clippings all around, and evidence she had Sherlock get access to with his connections that she doesn’t have.

After days of pure investigation and nights of no sleep she finally was able to figure out where the next murder will be, just by what books are left…

But that’s the thing…

There is not a single work of hers left that this murderer has not take inspiration from…

The only thing left is the author, and she can only assume that she is the next target. So without telling Sherlock, she packs up her bags and fakes her own disappearance, to fool both the police and the murderer.

She spends so much time in the shadows, watching and waiting to see who looks into her disappearance, seeing how people react to it, but nothing, not a thing…

It frustrates her even further…

Then she finally decides to return home, feeling like a failure. Her house if just how she left it, even the papers in the drawing room that look like the work of a madman that she will have to clean up after her failure so she can go back to what she is good at, fictional murders not really ones…

No she can’t do that, that would only give the murderer ideas…

So she quits.

No one hears from her for months as she nods herself taking up a librarian position at a local library, at least she is doing something with her literature. She says goodbye to Mr. Holmes and tucks away all her old books and works in progress that will never be finished on the shelves to collect dust for the rest of her life.

At her time working there she gets a frequent visitor at the library, a Mr. William James Moriarty. He had a fascination with murder mystery novels and the two form a quick friendship over their shared love of them. Everything feels like a new start, a clean slate but then he had to ask…

“Will you ever write again?”

That question has her heart hurt because she adores writing, but to sacrifice lives just for what she enjoys, she would never. She shuts down his question quickly and excuses herself, but then avoids the scarlet eyed man as to not be asked that question again.

But as she is laying in bed one night…

She hears the sound of footsteps in her study downstairs…

She feels her heart stop…

She closes her eyes and prays whoever is there will just go away, but they do not. So she musters whatever courage she has left and slips out of bed to see who is there in her study that has been collecting dust for almost a year…

And she approaches the closed door she realizes whoever is behind them must be the person behind the murders that gave plagued her and-

“William?”

The pangs of shock she feels in her chest when she sees the face of William Jane Moriarty looking through her unfinished works that she shelved away what felt like years ago. She must have looked like a deer in headlights as the Lord of Crime looking up at her with a smile, his red eyes staring into her soul…

She is terrified, horrified even…

And she is beautiful.

“Your unfinished work, will it have an ending? Or perhaps will we have to write one ourselves? What do you think, darling?”

The weeks go by and the next time the author is seen in public again she has an engagement ring on her finger and the announcement is being made about their upcoming wedding. The talk of the aristocracy says that she finally has a husband who is willing to deal with her crazied ideas that ended up killing so many people, not knowing that she is on the arm of the man who killed them…

Just for her.

(I could kinda imagine it ending up as a situation like the book Misery by Stephen King where he has her finish her work even if she doesn’t want to, but what differs is that while he doesn’t necessarily keep her locked up physically he does mentally. Sure go run off, he isn’t going to stop his darling, but just watch the bodies stack up pin ways she imagined, he is using her own mind against her which is the most terrifying of prisons. Then soon fear turns into dependency, she becomes terrified of him leaving her because now she has no where else to go but him so he has no need to hide her away when she clings to his arm like a terrified and wounded animal.)

#william moriarty x reader #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #william james moriarty x reader #yandere william james moriarty #yandere moriarty the patriot #yandere yuukoku no moriarty

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selfship-confession-box · 3 months ago

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I've been seeing a lot of talk recently about things like ai chat bots and how the people that use them are killing the environment. I'll weigh in as someone being educated in environmental studies; this is true, but, largely also not true.

We don't know exactly what character ai uses for their platform. Most LLMs are powered with reusable energy. We have no way to know for sure what character ai is using, however, it's important to realize that (this is coming from someone who dislikes ai) texting a fictional character is not killing the environment like you think it is.

The largest proponent of environmental destruction are large companies and manufacturers releasing excessive amounts of carbon into the atmosphere, forests being cut down to build industrial plants, even military test sites are far worse than the spec of damage that ai is doing. Because the largest problem is not ai, it's the industries that dump chemicals and garbage into water ways and landfills. Ai is but a ball of plastic in comparison to the dump it is sitting in.

It's important to note, too, if you're going to have this attitude about something like character ai, you have to consider the amount of energy websites like Instagram and Facebook and YouTube use to run their servers. They use an exponential amount of energy as well, even Tumblr.

This isn't an attack to either side, as I said, I dislike ai. However, this is important to know. And unfortunately, as much as I wish this could be solved by telling people not to use character ai, that won't do much in the grand scheme of things. As far as we are aware, they use their own independent LLM. We should be going after large companies like OpenAI, who have more than just a small (in comparison) niche of people using it. OpenAI is made and designed largely for company use, not so much individual AI models.

I apologize this is long. But I think it's important to share.

#good lird #also last confession bein posted abt this #self ship #self shipping community #selfshipping community #selfship #self shipper #self shipping #self ship community #selfship community #character ai #character.ai #c.ai

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theresattrpgforthat · 1 month ago

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This is going to sound really funny, but do you have any recs for TTRPGs based on/around clowns?

THEME: Clowns

Hello friend, I have a few things, but pickings were a little slim! Some of what I found seems to be a supplement for another game rather than a base game, but I hope you still find something you like.

(Also, I think it's really funny that I found not one, but two games about Clowns vs Vampires.)

Clown Husbandry, by Sterf.

Clown Husbandry is a ttrpg inspired by tumblr's clown husbandry community about a group of college students adopting their first clowns and learning how to raise them.

Thematically, this game is about going to clown school and taking classes to learn how to raise clowns, but the focus on the clowns feels akin to a monster-training game like Pokemon. Clowns are raised and trained to use their traits in Goof-Offs, clown mating rituals designed to impress the clown that you want them to procreate with. A successful Goof-Off leads to a Honking, where the clowns mate and produce offspring.

You use a d4 and a Punnett square to determine the child’s breed and abilities, while your clown trainer uses a d6 to overcome obstacles as they explore a town and use their clowns to solve problems. The game comes with adoptable clown cards, and adventure module called Mystery at the Old Manor. If you like games about collectible creatures, and you want to lean into something really bonkers, try Clown Husbandry!

Clown Helsing, by Planarian.

Dying is Easy. Comedy is Hard.

Clowns. We've all seen them… riding their unicycles, blowing up balloons at parties, piling in garish hordes from tiny cars, waddling around in bulbous red shoes, passed out in a dumpster stinking of booze and regret. For what do these martyrs of mirth sacrifice themselves? The answer is they do it for us. Not just to fill our need for laughter and merriment, but because they defy the doom of mankind! Clowns are man's only salvation against… Vampires.

You've seen Vampires too; you just didn't know it. Maybe they were killing the mood at a party, ruining a great punchline, layering red tape onto a business, or just plain old-fashioned sucking the blood from the living. Contrary to myth they do much of this in broad daylight, their only fear of the sun being that it might expose them to mockery. They drain humor from the world because they fear someone might dare to laugh at them. You know the type.

I’ve played Clown Helsing, and had a great time doing so. It uses Rock Paper Scissors, which means that you don’t really need dice to play - and you barely need pencil and paper, as most of the characters only have a few lines of information that they need to remember. The character generation system involves roll-tables (or pick-lists, if you’re not using dice) to generate clown names and clown styles, and for the Game Master, there’s a very helpful section that will help you build a vampire that the players can’t wait to insult and discredit.

But Dracula…, by MacaroniX.

A vampire has descended upon the town, draping the town in endless night and taking residence in the abandoned castle. The town mayor says we have only one hope. Only the Great Clown Pagliacchi can chase the vampire away. The thing is… you are Pagliacchi. Well, you're the closest we’ve got. But you are not alone. You have your clown posse, and the plan is to drive the vampire away in the only way you know how: the power of laughter!

But Dracula… is a silly, fantasy, zero-prep. one-shot adventure RPG where you play a clown that must chase a vampire out of town, or at least lift the endless night curse. Can you find your way to the vampire and save the day?

Created for the BIPOC Vamp Jam, But Dracula… uses a deck of cards to generate NPCs that can either help or hinder you as you attempt to drive Dracula out of town, and a d6 to help generate your clown character. I’m curious about whether or not this game can be used for other adventures, perhaps driving various different monsters out of town!

Tears of A Clown, for Call of Cthulhu, by Paul Mazumdar.

Cambridge, 1893. The annual Midsummer Fair is open for business and one of the big attractions this year is the Fairground Maxiumus, its steam ride and its team of masked clowns. While looking for a lost friend, the players find themselves getting closer to the clowns than they'd imagined.

This may be centred on clowns, but this is strictly a horror game, with body horror and vore definitely part of the story. As with any Call of Cthulhu game, there's a decent chance you don't make it out of this game alive. If you want a game that targets a player’s or character’s fear of clowns, rather than something goofy or light-hearted, you might find what you’re looking for in Tears of a Clown.

C.L.O.W.N. 3rd Edition, by Hero Games.

Welcome to the zany world of C.L.O.W.N., the greatest collection of jokers and pranksters this side of Stronghold (and they hope it stays that way). Some have guessed that CLOWN stands for the Criminal Legion of Wacky Nonconformists, but no one is really sure if it's an acronym, or just sounds good. (If the founders know, they aren't telling.)

The purpose of CLOWN in your campaign is twofold: to provide you with a selection of truly unique villains to put a twist in your adventures, and to give your players a break from the same old world-threatening catastrophes and wrenching moral dilemmas.

C.L.O.W.N. is a supplement for the Champions roleplaying system, rather than a standalone product. Champions is a superhero game, and C.L.O.W.N. appears to be a supplement about providing clownish super-villains to cause chaos and mayhem in your superhero’s city. This is for the 3rd edition, and I think there’s been a few new editions since then, but I think often with these types of games, you can take the stats from an older edition and update them pretty easily to something newer without much work.

If you want clownish antics in the style of the Joker or Harley Quinn, then perhaps consider C.L.O.W.N.

Other Thoughts…

Apparently there is a Killer Clowns From Hell adventure for Pathfinder and Starfinder! You might be able to adapt it to other OSR or OSE games.

You might also like my Circus Recommendation Post from a year ago or so.

If you like what I do, you can leave a tip at my Ko-fi page <3

#clowns #tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg

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gacha-incels · 4 months ago

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Statistics on Intimate Partner Homicides, Gender Classification Essential: We Need to Recognize ‘Gender-Based Violence’

this interview is originally in Korean, it’s been MTL and edited here. I can’t say it’s going to be exact so I wouldn’t rely on this as a 1:1 especially since I think some of these translators ‘summarize’ paragraphs sometimes, but I think the statistics are worth looking at and those should be understandable. if you happen to see anything glaringly wrong lmk and I’ll edit it. It’s pretty long in terms of tumblr posts so I put most of it under a cut. To 'you' who still blames the victim

Police, the first statistics of last year… 24% of all murder cases

There is no gender distinction, so the risk of women is impossible to understand.

Intimate partner violence and homicides occasionally make headlines, but the exact scale of the problem is still not well understood in South Korea. Last year, the police began gathering data on the number of homicides stemming from intimate relationships for the first time. In 2023, the suspects in homicide cases (including attempted murder) totaled 778. Of these, 192 people (24.6%) committed their crimes against a current or former spouse, romantic partner, or common-law spouse. This was the first time the police had identified the scale of homicides resulting from "intimate relationships."

However, it is still difficult to grasp how much danger women face from intimate partner violence because the statistics did not differentiate by gender. Hyo-jung Kim, a research fellow at the Korean Women's Development Institute, noted, “According to data from the United Nations Department of Economic and Social Affairs, while the majority of homicide victims are men, when the perpetrator is narrowed to an intimate partner, over 80% of the victims are women.” She emphasized, “This is ‘gendered crime.’” Sun-hye Choi, Secretary-General of Korea Women’s Hotline, added, “The police left out the most crucial part: gender, releasing only half of the necessary statistics.” Both Kim and Choi were interviewed for this article.

The Importance of Last Year’s Statistics

Kim Hyo-jung: The fact that the police even attempted to check for previous victimization shows that they put in some effort. However, considering the effort put in, the results are too inadequate. There are no gendered statistics, and there’s no essential information on whether it was compound victimization or exclusively checked.

Choi Sun-hye: I’m not sure if the police had a clear purpose for collecting these statistics. The police need to figure out at which stage they missed something when someone is killed, and where they failed to detect warning signs. From the initial report to the end, they must track what went wrong—whether it was with the investigation or with legal and institutional limitations.

Korea Women’s Hotline (twitter acct) has been independently analyzing incidents based on media reports since 2009 and has published the “Gauge of Fury” statistics for 15 years. According to their data, at least 138 women were killed by intimate male partners in 2023, and at least 311 women experienced threats.

Kim Hyo-jung: The "Gauge of Fury" is a result of painstakingly analyzing reported homicide cases one by one. Since unreported incidents are excluded, this number can only be considered an underestimate. If the government was committed, they could easily conduct a full investigation into the 800 or so homicides that occur annually to determine how many women are victims. When talking about preventing and responding to gender-based violence, the most fundamental thing to build is statistics. To solve any problem, you must first understand the actual situation and current conditions. The UN and international organizations also stress this importance and call for basic gender-disaggregated statistics.

Kim also participated in compiling the 2022 statistics on violence against women.

Kim Hyo-jung: The 2022 statistics on violence against women are significant because they consolidated various statistics scattered across the Ministry of Gender Equality and Family, the Ministry of Justice, and the Supreme Prosecutors' Office, organizing them into categories like crime occurrences, victim protection, and support. However, the problem is that discussions haven’t moved on to the next stage. For example, there are housing support systems for victims of sexual and domestic violence, but there are no precise statistics on how much housing support is provided to victims of gender-based violence. The next step should be producing such data. Some statistics are being generated, but they are not gender-disaggregated, which makes them less meaningful. The conversation should now move towards generating gender-disaggregated statistics. However, we are not progressing in that direction.

There are criticisms that intimate partner violence and homicides are treated as less important than other crimes.

Choi Sun-hye: So many women are dying, yet there is no sense of urgency. Even though women’s organizations have been saying for over 10 years that women are dying, with some stating that one woman dies every two days, society doesn’t seem to view it as important.

Kim Hyo-jung: If a child doesn’t show up to school, the Ministry of Education immediately conducts a full investigation. Last summer, when there was a series of random violent crimes, the police even deployed tanks. But when so many women are being killed, and the issue is constantly being raised, it’s shocking that there’s such little movement in response.

Recognizing Gender-Based Violence as a Structural Problem

Choi Sun-hye: There seems to be strong resistance to seeing violence in intimate relationships as a structural issue. When an intimate partner violence case occurs, the perpetrator is often treated as an abnormal or troubled individual, and the victim is criticized for not seeking help from the authorities. The narrative becomes "Oh, another man killed someone,” turning it into a case of personal blame where the individual is demonized, and the story ends there. We need to discuss these cases as structural issues to avoid turning them into gender battles.

Kim Hyo-jung: If there were a social consensus around the concept of "gender-based violence," even if there were setbacks, we could continue progressing in that direction. But Korean society doesn’t accept that. It fundamentally refuses to recognize that there is structural gender inequality. That leads to the issue becoming individualized and fragmented, turning the perpetrator into a demonized figure. Korea already has the institutions in place. In fact, the sexual crime response system here is so well-developed that people from abroad come to learn about it. The problem is the "perspective." There are countless response plans from various ministries, but when you examine them, there’s no national gender perspective. Without an understanding of gender-based violence, there is fear of countercharges. The fact that we still hear nonsensical questions like, “Why do we have a Ministry of Gender Equality and Family but not a Ministry of Men and Family?” reflects this.

This lack of perspective is greatly influenced by the Ministry of Gender Equality and Family’s ambiguous position. When the ministry outlined countermeasures against intimate partner violence in June, I thought, “They’ve brought out everything they can, even from their limited resources.” They presented everything they could, but the fact is, they don’t have the authority to do more.

The Importance of Investigators’ Perspective on Crime

Choi Sun-hye: Investigators need to have a higher level of awareness than the general public. The biggest issue arises when their awareness is lower than the victim's. If investigators tell a victim, “You should have been clearer about your refusal at that time,” it can be difficult for a victim, who may lack legal knowledge, to assess how dangerous their situation is. Investigators, with their experience, should be able to tell victims, “You are in a very dangerous situation and need support.”

Calls for harsher penalties for crimes committed in intimate relationships.

Kim Hyo-jung: The case in Geoje, for instance, if it hadn’t come to light, would likely have been classified as involuntary manslaughter. It wouldn’t have been recognized as a homicide case. There’s talk of increasing penalties, but crimes between strangers should at least be punished to the same degree. In cases of domestic violence, if they are treated as family protection cases, there’s no criminal record. Offenders may receive a deferred prosecution on the condition they attend counseling, and if the victim says they don’t want punishment, it’s usually accepted. This approach only applies to violence in intimate relationships. The Domestic Violence Punishment Act should prioritize victim protection and safety above family protection, starting with its purpose clause, but that’s not happening.

Views on Legislation Regarding Intimate Partner Violence Vary

Choi Sun-hye: The easiest way is to simply expand the scope of the Domestic Violence Punishment Act. That’s why such amendment bills are being discussed. However, the first priority should be improving the parts of the Domestic Violence Punishment Act that are not working properly. Moreover, laws are too fragmented. There’s the Domestic Violence Punishment Act, the Stalking Punishment Act, etc. These divisions can confuse field officers when deciding on emergency measures due to overlap. We need a comprehensive approach to address both the issue of inadequate penalties for violence due to intimacy and the need for victim protection during investigations and trials. We should think about how to legally define intimate partner violence within that framework.

Kim Hyo-jung: Although overcoming the strong perception that “families must be protected” is difficult, the purpose clause of the Domestic Violence Punishment Act must be entirely revised. However, that will take time, and addressing intimate partner violence is urgent, so we should start by regulating it within the law and eliminating the provision allowing victims to request non-punishment. While doing that, we can also discuss revising the law entirely. There are many ways to approach this issue, but it seems like people are overly cautious about addressing it head-on.

Re: Defining Intimate Relationships

Kim Hyo-jung: It’s really a problem. People argue that intimate relationships are private matters, and that defining them is difficult because they’re personal and internal. But other countries do define them. In the UK, an intimate relationship is defined as being with someone you’re close to, and this concept is embedded in their homicide laws. If we don’t start discussing how to legally define intimate partner violence soon, it will take years before any legislation is passed.

The Law Fails to Cross the Threshold of the Home Due to Dated Beliefs

This belief persists because criminal justice agencies prioritize convenience and fail to see things from the victim's perspective. As a result, the legal system doesn't go beyond distinguishing between legal and common-law marriages.

70,000 Reports - 12,000 Arrests - 1.8% Incarceration Rate

The number of reports related to dating violence continues to rise, but the number of arrests is far below the number of reports. The rate of judicial action is even lower.

Choi Sun-hye: As of 2022, there were 70,000 reports of dating violence to the 112 emergency line, but only 12,000 people were arrested, a significant drop. This is because in cases involving assault, injury, threats, etc., many victims express a desire not to punish the perpetrator. While the majority of victims are women, many cases get entangled in mutual accusations. Looking at the judicial process, the incarceration rate is only 1.8%. For domestic violence, the rate is 3.6%; for sexual violence, 3.6%; and for stalking, 3.7%. If only about 4% of arrests result in incarceration, who would want to report the crime? Victims report only when they believe in the social system, when they believe the system will protect them and alleviate their fear of the perpetrator, and when they believe that the perpetrator will not be able to retaliate against them. From this, we can understand why many do not report.

“Why didn’t you leave?” People still ask the victim.

Kim Hyo-jung: There’s a growing recognition that domestic violence is a crime. When a victim stays in the relationship and problems arise, people understand that there may have been complex issues, such as children being involved. In contrast, victims of dating violence are still asked, “Why didn’t you break up?” This shows a lack of understanding that, in the context of gender-based violence, the perpetrator and the victim are not in an equal relationship. As early as the 2000s, women-centered communities were already talking about "safe breakups." Victims are aware that they are in a structure where it’s difficult to make demands.

A “tough response to crime” is often listed as a policy that Gen 2030 (women in their 20s?) women want. “How can I have a relationship and marriage when I could die?”

Kim Hyo-jung: One of the main causes of the ultra-low birthrate, according to demographers and sociologists, is social inequality. Gender equality is a crucial key to solving these demographic problems. A society where violence against women occurs and misogyny is rampant can never be a gender-equal society. The fear of becoming a victim of crime is gendered. The fact that women are more fearful of crime is a significant indicator that the society is not gender-equal. It is very reasonable to connect the issue of gender-based violence with the ultra-low birthrate problem. Establishing a solid understanding of gender-based violence is the starting point. Instead of patching up leaks one at a time, we need to start by setting the right perspective and building a structural framework to address the problem.

#South korea #korean women’s hot line #Korean Women's Development Institute #Choi Sun-hye #Kim Hyo-jung #Interview #article #femicide #intimate partner violence

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cptapathy · 7 months ago

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hey! what are you favorite ttrpgs?

Dice tumble

Pen scratch

A held breath

A promised climax

We sit around our table/

At our desk/in a circle on the floor

And together we laugh

And smile and more

We love these creations in our heads

As they dance and fight and flee

And as the night draws close to us

We hold them warm and tightly

These people we conjure are dear to me

For they are the crystal through which I look

To see the life I share with you

And the love we have for each other

Okay so my favourite ttrpg changes as I play them but right now it's A.N.I.M's EURKEA!

I have always been a fan of murder mysteries from Agatha Christie, to pie in the sky, Midsomer Murders, Rosemary and Thyme and everything in between.

I had run several murder mysteries in different ttrpgs and even a couple of murder mystery larps (including a spectacular zombie one) but I'd never found a system that truely captured what murder mysteries feel like.

Then I discovered Eureka and the Eureka mechanic and it all clicked. You could say it was a eureka moment.

I'm going to discuss in some detail the mechanic and give an example but before that everyone should go and

a. Follow A.N.I.M. on tumblr

@anim-ttrpgs

b. Join their patreon so we can get the gorgan playable investigator. Go look at all the cool stuff!

https://www.patreon.com/TheAgencyofNarrativeIntrigueandMysteryPatreon/posts

Essentially A.N.I.M have separated dice rolls into two categories

1. Investigation rolls

2. Non-investigation rolls

Investigation rolls are when an investigator is trying to uncover information or clues to progress the investigation. (Pretty clear definition) non-investigation rolls are all other rolls (combat, hiding secrets, getting out of dodge etc.)

Whenever an investigator makes an investigation roll there are 3 possible outcomes

1 Failure - they do not success and/or complications arise - they gain 3 Eureka points

2 partial success/mixed success - they get part of a clue or a clue and a complication - they gain 2 Eureka points

3 full success - they gain the clue without issue - they gain one Eureka point

When the investigators have a full eureka bar they can use a EUREKA!

This allows them to roll a check with 3d6 and take the highest instead of 2d6 or (my favourite option) gain clues from previous failed rolls.

So to take the most iconic episode of Midsomer Murders as an example - "The Killings At Badgers Drift"

Spoilers and CW for references to incest.

DCI Barnerby arrests the foppish artist on suspicion of murder, during the arrest the artist's sister arrives and the artist crys out "I've been framed" and makes a sign of a square with his fingers.

The DCI Makes an investigation roll but biffs it, snake eyes, complete failure, no hope of discovering that clue.

Later on The DCI is talking to a woman at a call centre who was the last known person to speak to the victim. Apparently the victim said "just like poor annabella" before hanging up. Again the DCI makes an investigation roll this time getting a partial success, there is someone related who has a name similar to annabella who died from an "accident" and the DCI decides to investigate this accident as well now, thinking (correctly) that it might not be so accidental.

But now the DCI has a full eureka bar and so the player shouts out eureka to gain the clue from the failed check earlier. And so, that night, the DCI has a dream of all the relevant clues and realises the clue missed when the artist made the symbol and said "I've been framed" it was a code, to tell his sister that the evidence of their affair (the nude painting he did of her) was in the attic and could prove that they were working together to keep their affair secret. This new vital clue allows the DCI to search for, and find, the painting helping to solve the mystery.

And so that is one reason I love eureka, along with the approach to disability and monster characters. It's currently got a free demo and stuff, go support them they're great.

#jess rambles #lextothemax #indie ttrpg #ttrpg community #ttrpg #poetry #they also have a ttrpg bookclub that i recommend #check them out!#jess answers

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justagalwhowrites · 2 years ago

Text

Lavender - Ch. 20

Life in the QZ gets worse and you're called outside the walls again. A continuation of Lavender Ch. 1-19 found on Tumblr here.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader (broken up), Tommy Miller x Reader

Warnings: Mild smut, talk of extreme police action, description of injuries. No use of Y/N. Minors, DNI 18+ only

Length: 6.5k

Saturday, June 11, 2011 - One Year Later

“I can only keep them off your back so long,” Elias was all but stalking you into an operating room as you made sure your hair was tucked below your scrub cap. “At some point…”

“I’m not asking for you to keep them off my back,” you said, pausing at the door to go scrub in. “Don’t need to lie, don’t need make up an excuse. Tell them I think they’re fascists and that I’m not going to prop up their dystopian police state.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, looking exhausted.

“They’re going to do it with or without you there,” he said. “This isn’t the hill you want to die on…”

“I think it’s exactly the hill to fucking die on, actually,” you snapped.

“And if they decide to execute you, too?” He demanded. “What then?”

“Sounds like you’ll need to find someone to fill in for me on Saturdays,” you shrugged. He glared at you. “Can I go do this hernia repair now or are you going to keep trying to get me to be a tool in the continued downfall of humanity?”

“Sometimes we can’t solve everything ourselves,” he said. “Sometimes we have to go along with awful things because we can do more good if we survive it.”

You sighed.

“They don’t know shit about medicine, right?” You said. He nodded once. “Great. Tell them you really just can’t spare me because I’m the only one who can do some stupid common surgical procedure so you need me here when I’m on duty. Because it’s just raining appendicitis here in the QZ. I imagine that will satisfy them and they can figure out how to check the pulse of someone they’ve hanged themselves without dragging me into it…”

“Might work,” he sighed.

“None of us should be a part of this,” you said. “Not just me. None of us should. It goes against our oath and even if it didn’t, it’s cruel and wrong.”

“I agree,” he said. “But imagine how many people would die if they executed the entire clinic for insubordination. Oaths are complicated things. Sometimes, we have to look beyond just ourselves and consider what’s best for the whole.”

“What’s best for the whole is FEDRA not executing people who have broken curfew one too many times because suddenly they’re dissidents,” you replied and then you sighed. “I do need to actually operate, I’ve got another hernia repair after this one… I’m sorry you’re stuck dealing with this shit. If you can keep me out of it while letting me keep my head, I’d appreciate it.”

“Just… try not to call any of the guards fascist to their face, alright?” He said. “I’d rather you not end up shot in the street.”

“I’ll do my best.”

You went in to scrub and ground your teeth. Things had been steadily going down hill with FEDRA for the last six months.

Patrols had increased drastically. They instituted a curfew about 10 months back that people didn’t take seriously at first - especially not the speakeasy crowd. Being home by midnight seemed outrageous.

Then the executions started.

They waited a few months before they started killing people. Gave people citations. Warned them that they’d be seen as conspirators with the Fireflies, the militarized resistance to FEDRA. From what you’d heard on your regular visits to the radio - you were still hoping against hope to find Cassie one day, though you were far less certain of her survival than you’d ever been of Joel and Tommy’s - that the fireflies were gaining strength across all the other QZs. People were angry that things weren’t getting better. You didn’t blame them.

The first sign you had that you, specifically, needed to worry about getting roped in was when Andrew showed up to your apartment one evening, looking distraught.

“Hey,” you frowned, pulling him inside. You led him to your couch and he sat down, almost in a daze. “What’s going on?”

“Guards just came by, they took Jess, said they needed her, they’re doing something outside the walls, I don’t know what they need her for out there, it doesn’t make sense,” his voice cracked. “I don’t know what they need her for, what if something happens? She’s never been out there, she’s from Boston, she came right here, what if…”

You pulled him into a hug, his arms going around your waist, his head buried in your stomach and he let out a choking sob.

“It’s OK,” you ran your fingers through his hair. “It’ll be OK, they’ll look out for her. She’s going to be OK.”

He spent the night that night, you sandwiched between him and Tommy (“This is weird, right?” Tommy said. “I mean, I’m fine with it, I just want to know that I’m not crazy.” “It’s weird,” you and Andrew said together.) Jess came back the next day, shaken but otherwise OK. It was the first of numerous trips for her outside the walls of the QZ. They were trying to use her to justify increased militarized presence through psychology, how that would help keep raiders under control. They were trying to prove their own worth. It was only a matter of time before they started roping in medical staff and teachers, too.

Meanwhile, the Fireflies were getting more outspoken, more vocal and more violent. The tighter FEDRA seemed to squeeze, the more people wanted to back the Fireflies. It was so incredibly stupid on FEDRA’s part it took all you had to not walk off both your jobs. The only thing that kept you going was the fact that it was the best way you could help people. There were no schools or clinics that weren’t run by FEDRA. If you wanted to teach, if you wanted to heal, there were no other options.

And you could use your connections to keep Tommy, Joel and Tess safe.

They were still making their smuggling runs. You tried talking Tommy out of it every time he was about to leave for another one, all but begging him to stay with you instead of going out again.

“What, and leave Tess and Joel without all my skills to back them up?” He kissed your forehead. “C’mon. I’m basically the only reason they’re still alive, Sweetheart. Can’t let them go it alone.”

So you kept them stocked in trauma supplies, stealing things from work with even greater regularity. Tommy kept showing up at your door battered and bruised. You’d taken to keeping a suture kit at your house, regularly needing to stitch his wounds closed.

“I really fucking hate this,” you said one night, stitching a knife wound to his shoulder closed as you sat behind him on your bed.

“Sweetheart,” he sighed.

“No, I mean it,” you said. “I really hate it. I really hate seeing you hurt, I really hate patching you up, I really hate that you feel like you have to do this. I really fucking hate it, Tommy, and I wish you’d stop going out there.”

You tied off the suture and got the kit cleaned up, stashing what was unused and still sterile back in your abused at home supply kit.

“Hey,” he took your hand and pulled you between his legs, looking up at you. “I’m not goin’ out there for nothing…”

“You’re going out there for ration cards,” you snapped. “Which is damn near nothing.”

“Goin’ out there for shit we can’t get here,” he said, untying your robe and unwrapping you slowly, like you were a gift. He pressed his lips to your bare stomach, kissing up your body to your breastbone. “Some of it is important shit. And I have to try to keep Joel and Tess safe. I’m not tryin’ to get hurt, I’m really not tryin’ to hurt you. I’m doing it because it’s important and it’s the only damn way I got to do something important in this fuckin’ place.”

“You’re important to me,” you said quietly, running your fingers through his hair. “Be important that way.”

“And you’re important to me,” he kissed your chest again. “But would you listen if I asked you to stop working at the clinic?”

“I’m not risking my life at the clinic.”

“You’ve got your brain to offer,” he half smiled up at you. “I’m a soldier. All I’ve got’s my body, so I’m usin’ it.” He tugged you closer. “Hopin’ you’ll let me.”

You sighed, straddling him, kissing him, your arms draped carefully over his shoulders so as to not disturb his fresh sutures.

“Really don’t encourage a lot of physical activity so soon after a medical procedure,” you said as he slid your robe to the floor and trailed his lips down your throat. “Should probably make you wait…”

“Swear to God I’ll lose my mind if you don’t let me inside you,” he growled and you laughed. He took the opportunity to pick you up and lay you down with a surprised shriek.

“And you really shouldn’t be doing that,” you said between kisses. “You’re going to rip your stitches out!”

“Worth it.”

He quickly pulled off his pants and thrust into you, making you gasp and moan. “Fuck, Sweetheart, Goddamn,” he groaned. “How do you always feel this fuckin’ good?”

You ground your hips into him and he pressed his lips to the hollow of your throat with a delicious moan, starting to work himself in and out of you. He knew just how you liked to be fucked now, knew all the places inside you to find, how to work your clit, touch your skin, suck your nipples into his mouth. He pulled you tight and close to him as his pace increased and your orgasm built and you fell apart together, gasping for breath as he lay on top of you. You lifted your head just enough to see his sutures before collapsing back down into bed.

“You got fucking lucky, Miller,” you panted. “Because I’d never fuck you again if you made me redo those stitches.”

“I’d seduce you eventually,” he said, kissing your shoulder and sliding out of you. You rolled your eyes. “Only took me 10 years the first time…”

Your relationship with Tommy had been one of the few, surprising bright spots in the last year. It was oddly easy, being with him. There wasn’t much about him that wasn’t easy. He was sweet, he was fun. It was what you’d imagined a relationship to be like in college before you’d started dating Joel. With Joel, it had been heady and intense from the beginning. You’d been head over heels for him from the start. There was no other option, it was all in or nothing and nothing didn’t feel like it was on the table.

Tommy was the opposite. But that was, in part, because you couldn’t seem to actually fall for him. Even when you tried. Even when you focused on it.

It didn’t seem to matter what he did. He took you dancing at the Speakeasy. He brought you bottles of wine from outside the QZ. He got you a small TV/VCR combo from the underground market and a copy of You’ve Got Mail on VHS. You were almost giddy with it while trying to tell him it was way too much.

“Nah, I had to,” he smiled. “Found the tape when we were outside, knew how much you loved that movie. Then I just had to make sure you could actually watch the damn thing.”

Tommy was probably a damn near perfect boyfriend. He just… wasn’t Joel.

It didn’t matter that you hadn’t seen him - not even in passing - since the conversation near the clinic. Tommy always came to your place. You always dealt with him or Tess when it came to resupplying their medical stash. He had done a thorough job of making sure you never saw each other.

And it didn’t make a damn difference.

There was a second every morning Tommy spent the night where you thought you were waking up next to his brother. It was one moment - a sweet, if brief, moment - where everything felt right. It was one of your favorite moments of the day, the second there your mind tricked yourself that you were still with the person you loved most. And then came the letdown followed by the shame of it.

“What the fuck is my problem?” You asked Andrew one afternoon as you worked in your lab. “Why can’t I get the fuck over him? Tommy… he’s basically perfect, why can’t I just love him? Why do I have to want the person who doesn’t want me back? And at what point do I fucking tell Tommy ‘hey, I know you’ve basically done nothing but be the best boyfriend a girl could ask for for the past almost year but I’m still in love with your brother who, as it happens, is kind of a dick.’”

“The heart wants what the heart wants, I guess,” Andrew shrugged. “I can’t imagine loving anyone but Jess. You could drop Halle Berry in front of me, make her love all the same shit I do and I’d still want Jess. Just how it works sometimes.”

“This is such a fucking mess,” you groaned.

“He said he understood what he was getting into,” he shrugged again. “So, if I were you, I’d keep it to myself until he drops the L-word on you. Then you’ll have to come clean. But, until then, I think you’re in the clear.”

“Why am I this stupid?” You asked. “Seriously. I’m not this stupid with anything else, how was I this fucking stupid?”

“Eh, you’re pretty stupid with at least some other things,” he said. You glared at him. “You are an absolute shit partner to have in bridge. You cannot strategize for shit, you are really stupid at bridge.”

“Thank you,” you said sarcastically. “That makes me feel so much better.”

“Always happy to be of service.”

It had been a few months that you’d known, for a fact, that you couldn’t fall in love with Tommy. It didn’t matter how hard you tried, how much you wanted to, it wasn’t going to happen. You still weren’t sure what to do about it.

You thought about it more when he wasn’t around. So you were thankful, that Saturday, to have surgeries to attend to. Tommy, Joel and Tess were outside the QZ yet again. Not only were you always worried the whole time they were gone, your brain went into overdrive trying to figure out what to do about the Tommy situation. Surgery was a pleasant distraction.

It was late when you finally finished everything on the docket that day. The sun had set and you felt like you were ready to fall asleep standing up.

“Want to come over later?” Andrew asked as you leaned against the front desk. “Feel like you might need the distraction.”

“Yeah…” you sighed, looking out at the empty waiting room. “Probably a good idea…”

The bell on the front door rang and you instinctively looked. Tess ran in, eyes wide, blood dripping from her shoulder.

“Fuck,” you swore. You were running before you even really knew you were running, grabbing one of the clinic’s go bags.

“Andrew,” you said as you went for the door. “Keep an OR ready for me, do NOT shut down until I get back, understand? See if you can get someone else to stay, please…”

“I’ve got it,” he said. “Go!”

Tess led the way to the hole in the fence.

“What happened?” You asked, the two of you walking as quickly as you could without drawing the attention of anyone patrolling.

“We got pinned down, about a mile outside the QZ,” she said. “We took everyone out eventually but Tommy and Joel…”

“Tess,” your voice cracked.

“They were alive when I left,” she said.

“Fuck!”

You slipped out of the fence, past the search lights and the debris field, and you ran.

You’d never been an athlete. You liked hiking and swimming and walking and were in fine shape but you’d never been a runner. That didn’t seem to matter then.

You raced toward where Tess pointed you, her falling back. You started watching for the bodies that would be around wherever they’d stashed themselves, the telltale signs of the showdown Tess mentioned.

When you spotted it, you practically tore into the small storefront, yanking a flashlight out of your pocket. It didn’t take you long to find Joel and Tommy.

“Hey Sweetheart,” Tommy smiled a little at you. He was breathing heavily, his gun lying across his lap. Tess ran in behind you.

“Hey, you idiot,” you smiled a little back. Joel was silent on the ground. “I need to evaluate you both and figure this out, try to stay conscious for me, OK?”

“Anything for you,” he said, wincing a little.

You took off your backpack and put your flashlight in your teeth, looking Joel over first. He was unconscious but he had a pulse and was breathing. Good signs, even though his breath was shallow. There was a penetrating chest wound and a compound fracture just above his left knee.

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck did you guys get up to?” You asked, pulling out your stethoscope. “Do you know how fucking hard it is to break your femur?”

“Had to jump off a roof,” Tommy winced. “Think I just sprained an ankle, Joel landed wrong…”

“Wrong is a fucking understatement,” you muttered, checking his heart rate and his breathing. “Think he’s stable for the moment…”

You moved to Tommy.

“Why do I feel like we’re gonna be in a fight after this?” He asked.

“Because we are,” you said. “Show me what’s wrong.”

“Got shot,” he angled his leg with a groan so you could see the wound. It was to the thigh but had missed the major arteries, so not terrible. “Sprained the ankle…”

“Tess,” you said. “I’m going to need…”

There was a sudden gasping sound from behind you and you spun. Joel was still unconscious but he was struggling to breathe.

“Doc!” Tess ran to him.

“Move!” You ordered, rushing over and thrusting the stethoscope into your ears. You pressed it to his chest and listened. “Fucking hell…”

You yanked your bag to your side and started ripping through it.

“What?” Tess sounded panicked. “What is it?”

“He had a fucking pneumothorax that I missed and it just changed to a tension pneumothorax,” you said, thrusting the flashlight to Tess. She took it, shining the light down at the bag. You found a scalpel and some tubing.

“What’s that?” She asked. “What does that mean?”

“It means there’s air in his chest that’s trapped and making it so his lung can’t inflate and I need to get it out or he’s going to fucking die,” you snapped, ripping his shirt open, sending buttons flying and pointing to a spot on his rib cage. You cut off a short length of tube. “Light here.”

She obeyed and you made the cut, thrusting the tubing in to hold the incision open so the air could escape. He took a deep, shuddering breath and you relaxed.

“Thank fuck for that,” you sighed, really looking at his face for the first time.

You had to fight the urge to touch him. He was still so fucking beautiful it made your heart ache. Seeing him again was like getting hit by the train. All this time, you’d thought you’d just been holding steady, that you just kept loving him the same way you always had.

You hadn’t. It had become a dull roar. It hung on the edges of everything but you could forget about it sometimes, when he wasn’t there to remind you. But the second you saw him, it was all consuming. You felt it in your skin, your chest, your marrow. Loving him was built into you like any other vital thing, there was no excising it. You could quiet it, avoid it but it would never cease to exist. Not for you.

“Tess,” you said after a second. “Hold pressure on the lower chest wound, leave the one I just made the fuck alone.”

You went to Tommy and started looking at his gunshot wound.

“How are you feeling?” You asked. “Lightheaded?”

“Nothin’ I can’t handle, Sweetheart,” he smiled a little. “Just having a hard time walking is all…”

“Yeah, that’s going to be the sticking point here,” you glanced to Tess.

“What?” She asked.

“You and I are going to have to do some heavy lifting,” you said.

“I can do that,” she nodded. “I can do that.”

You grabbed some gauze and a brace from your bag, wrapping Tommy’s gunshot wound and giving him some ankle support before you looked him in the eye.

“Alright Miller,” you said. “Time to boot and rally, you were in the army, you can do this. You’re going to go with Tess to the fence and head for the clinic. Andrew is waiting for you guys.”

“What about you?” He asked.

“I’m going to wake up Joel and I’m taking him to the main gate,” you said, getting to your feet and offering Tommy your hand.

“That’s a fucking death sentence, you can’t go to the main gate!” Tess gaped up at you.

“We can’t get him through the fence,” you said. “There’s no way in hell, not with a compound fracture, an open chest wound and a pneumo. Main gate might be a death sentence for you but I can get us in. It’ll be tricky but I can get us in.”

“That’s too big a risk,” Tommy said, taking your hand. You pulled him to his feet and slung his arm over your shoulder. “You can’t…”

“I can’t just leave him out here,” you looked up at him, meeting his gaze. “I need to get him to the clinic before shit gets worse and that’s the only way…”

He cupped your face, looking in your eyes and you knew he saw it. What you felt. Why you couldn’t leave Joel behind. Not now, not ever.

“It’s gonna get you killed, Sweetheart,” he said softly.

“Don’t have a choice,” you smiled sadly. He pressed his lips to your forehead.

“Tess?” You said, still looking at Tommy. She came alongside you and you held up his arm. She stepped into place. “Straight to the clinic, OK?”

“You sure you’ve got Joel from here?” She asked.

“Yeah,” you said. “Get yourselves out of here, we’ll be right behind. The clinic. Andrew’s staying there, he’ll help you.”

She nodded and they left you there with Joel on the ground.

You ran to his side, checking his breathing. Still solid.

“Well at least there’s that,” you muttered to yourself. You quickly bandaged the wound at his chest. Looking closer, you were pretty sure it was a stab wound and not a bullet hole. You tried to keep it so it wouldn’t be jostled and have him start bleeding out. You moved onto the leg.

You were going to need to at least partially set it, there’s no way you could carry him and he couldn’t put any weight on it the way it was now. It was just going to hurt like a bitch. Which is part of why you’d sent Tess and Tommy along. This part was not going to be pretty and there was a good chance he was going to scream loud enough to attract every clicker and raider in a five mile radius.

“OK Miller,” you grabbed the length of tubing you hadn’t used to open his chest and put it between his teeth, making him bite down on it. “You can do this, you can get through this you stubborn asshole, you’re going to be fine, hear me? I will never forgive you if you’re not fine so you’re going to be fucking fine…”

You grabbed the stuff to make a splint from your bag and set it up around his injured leg before you put one knee on his hip, hoping to help hold him still.

“Here we go,” you took a deep breath. “One, two, three…”

You winced as you started pushing his bone back into alignment. He gasped and flung his hand out, catching you in the side.

“It’s me!” You said quickly, pushing the bone back into place. He groaned, the sound choking and gasping. “Bite down on the tube, I’m setting your leg enough that you can put weight on it, I know it hurts, I’m almost done just stick with me…”

The bone disappeared below the skin and you stopped pushing. Joel went slack, panting for breath. You grabbed gauze and quickly bound the point where the break had come through the skin before setting the splint.

“You still with me over there, Miller?” You asked, not able bring yourself to look over at him, afraid of what you might see.

“Still here,” he was panting for breath.

“Good,” you said, sitting back on your heels for a moment, out of breath yourself. You looked over at him.

He was watching you, a soft look on his face. Your heart swelled with it.

“Hey Kid,” he said quietly.

“Hey,” you half smiled at him.

“Tess and Tommy?” He asked.

“Headed for the QZ,” you said. “Sent them on ahead because they’re taking a different route in than us.”

“What route are we taking?” He frowned.

“Main gate,” you said, starting to pack up your supplies.

“No,” he shook his head. “No, we can’t…”

“You can’t without me,” you cut him off. “But I can. And you can’t get under the fence right now, Joel, not with your leg like that coupled with the fact that you’ve got a penetrating chest wound and I had to give you an incision to relieve a tension pneumothorax.”

“Then you’re leavin’ me out here,” he started trying to prop himself up on his elbows and you went to help him. “Not riskin’ you bringing me in through the main gate…”

“Shut the fuck up, Miller,” you said, helping him sit up all the way. He glared at you.

“Always knew there was a risk of not comin’ back, Kid,” he said. His eyes kept ranging over your face.

“You don’t get to just die on me out here,” you snapped. “We’re not doing that, got it? I didn’t come all the way out here to save your ass just to have you die on me so we’re going to the main fucking gate.”

You stood up and put on the pack before offering him your hand. He glared at you.

“I swear to God Joel if you don’t I will go to the main gate myself and make them come get you in a patrol truck,” you snapped. “Guessing this is a smuggling hide out for you, I will bring them here, I don’t give a shit.”

“You’re the most stubborn damn woman I’ve ever met,” he muttered, taking your hand.

“Put as much weight as you can on the good leg,” you ordered. He glared at you. “What, you’re saying dumb shit like I should just leave you out here to die so I have to state the obvious. Ready?” He nodded once. “Alright, one, two, three.”

You pulled and he hissed in pain as you helped him up. He almost collapsed and you caught him with your shoulder tucked into his armpit.

“See?” You said as he panted for breath. “We’ve got this.”

It didn’t take long for you and Joel to fall into a rhythm that kept his pain from getting worse as you walked. It was slow going but you made steady progress.

“Why’d you do this?” He managed after you’d walked half a mile.

“What do you mean?” You frowned.

“Come out here,” he said. His breaths came in short, gasping pants. “Save me. Why?”

You were quiet for a moment.

“You know why,” you said eventually.

He ground his teeth.

“We’re not good for each other,” he said.

“I know.”

“Told you I didn’t want to see you.”

“Trust me, I remember.”

“You’re with Tommy.”

“I know.”

He growled. The searchlights of the QZ perimeter were getting close.

“When we get up there, let me do the talking,” you said. “Keep your mouth fucking shut. I’m going to get us through this in one piece but you have to do what I say for a change, got it?”

He just grunted in affirmation.

The guards spotted you quickly. It wasn’t like you were trying to hide.

“Hands up!” Their guns were drawn. You raised the hand you could. “I fucking said hands up!”

“Can’t put them all up, I have an injured man with me,” you called back. “I’m a doctor at the clinic, I got word of an injured person outside the fence, I’m bringing him in for treatment…”

The voice shifted.

“Doc? That you?”

You squinted against the searchlight as the guard came closer. You smiled a little.

“Hi Tim,” you said. You’d known there was a good chance one of your former students would be at the gate. It was just luck that it was one who remembered you fondly. He lowered his gun.

“What are you doing out here?” He asked, coming over and taking Joel’s other side. Joel just gaped at you.

“Helping the injured,” you jerked your head in Joel’s direction. “That whole hippocratic oath thing, I couldn’t just ignore it once I knew about it. I was hoping you could let us in here.”

“Doc, you left the QZ…” he said quietly.

“I know,” you said. “And I don’t want to compromise you or your job in any way. But I had to do my job, too. If you need to write me up or take me into custody you can, but I need to get this man to the clinic first…”

He looked Joel over.

“You’ll make sure he does intake?” He asked.

“Of course,” you replied. He pulled out a scanner and took a sample from each of you. The screen glowed green. His jaw twitched.

“Alright,” he said. “But we have to move quick and you never saw me, OK?”

“Thank you,” you said, moving as quickly as Joel would allow. Your heart was in your throat until you were through the gate.

“Get to the clinic by curfew,” Tim said. “You’ve only got 20 minutes.”

***

Joel wasn’t sure what hurt more, his leg, his chest or seeing you.

He’d managed to avoid you for a year. A whole year of not seeing your face, the longest he’d gone since he’d come to the QZ. He hated every goddamn second of it.

It was the right thing to do, though, trying to let you go. He kept fucking failing you and he’d keep fucking failing you the more he was around you. And being around you hurt.

He wasn’t sure it would be better or worse if you were his. Everything he’d lost was all tied up in you. The life he’d been inches away from having wound around your limbs and lips and hair. He didn’t think he could just be next to you and know that. But fuck, not seeing you…

One of the hardest things he’d ever had to do was say goodbye to you that day on the street. But he couldn’t keep drowning you in his misery. As much as he’d hated Tommy for touching you, for picking you, he couldn’t hate him for pointing out the obvious. He’d been cruel to you. As much as he was angry, hurting, wanting to hate you, you didn’t deserve that. You deserved better than what he could give you. You were too much for him to take and he couldn’t seem to stop hurting you. It had to end.

But he was relieved that he could gauge how you were doing by Tommy’s mood. He didn’t like much else about the fact that you were with him but when Tommy came home from seeing you in a good mood, he knew you were happy. If he were a little off, he knew you probably had a bad day at work. If he were irritable it meant you were upset about something. He didn’t dare ask what but he knew it was something.

It was strange, knowing you existed in the world but not knowing much of anything about it. He clung to what he did know. Wished he didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to see you. Wished he didn’t want to look at you.

But now you were close - so fucking close - and it hurt. Andrew helped you get him onto an exam table and he could barely hear what you were saying, giving him some kind of pill and making him breathe in some shit that made his head swim as you made him lie down.

“Don’t want you workin’ on me,” he managed. You frowned.

“Well I’m the only option you have, Miller, so suck it up,” you said, not looking up from your work at his side.

“Don’t want to want to look at you,” he muttered.

“Then don’t look at me,” you said, stitching up his side.

“Can’t help it,” he mumbled. “Too fuckin’ pretty…”

“Sounds like a personal problem, Miller,” you said. “Stop talking so much, you’re making it hard to sew.”

“Sorry,” he said. “Just missed you.”

You looked at him for a moment.

“Missed you too.”

You went back to sewing. He just watched you work, soaking up what he could of you. He didn’t know when he’d see you again. He wanted to hold onto this.

He fell asleep watching you heal him.

***

By the time you finished with Joel, you were exhausted. You were going to have to just sleep in an exam room, it was past curfew and you wouldn’t want to be far, anyway. But, for that moment, you just wanted to slump against the wall in the hall, not able to make yourself move any further.

You slid to the floor, leaning your head back against the wall and taking a deep breath. Your legs and arms ached. You were pretty sure your abs would, too, in the morning after you hauled Joel all that way.

Tess came out of an exam room and looked surprised to find you on the floor before siting next to you.

“How is he?” She asked.

“He’ll be fine,” you sighed. “Won’t be able to make any runs for at least two months while his femur heals, though.”

She nodded slowly.

“Can I ask you something?” She asked after a moment.

“As long as it’s nothing philosophical,” you replied. “Brain is fried. Ask me how to do surgery, that I can do with my eyes closed.”

“What are you doing with them?” She asked, watching you. You frowned. “You’ve got Tommy wrapped around your finger. You’ll put your life on the line to save Joel. What are you doing with them?”

“Nothing that I really have a say in,” you looked at her, too tired to try to dodge the question. “If I could stop… feeling the way I do, I would. I hate it, I hate what it’s done to me, what it’s done to him, what it’s doing to Tommy and I just… I don’t want it anymore. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I want it to be over.

“I keep thinking that loving people, that’s the reason we’re here. That’s what we’re supposed to do with life, we’re supposed to love people as much as we can for as long as we can but that doesn’t work anymore, does it? Maybe it did before all this happened. Maybe it didn’t and I was just too naive to know it but that’s what it felt like we were supposed to do. But I can’t keep loving him and I can’t just let this keep going with Tommy and I just….” Your voice cracked. You were too tired to try to fight off tears.

Tess tugged you over so your head was on her shoulder. You blinked in surprise.

“I was married before,” she said. “I told you that. I didn’t tell you that I had to shoot him, in the outbreak.”

“Jesus…” you breathed.

“Even knowing how it was going to end, I’m glad I had it while I did,” she said. “But I’m still too afraid to ever love someone like that again. Love like that wrecks you, utterly destroys you. It’s why I make the choices I make now. And yeah, it’s safer but my God is life sweeter when you have it.

“Joel’s broken like that, too,” she said. “Part of why we get along. I’m not sure he’ll ever get his shit together. It’s too big a risk for him. But I think you still can figure it out. It hasn’t broken you yet. You still wear ribbons in your hair. You’re not broken yet.”

You stared at the wall for a moment.

“I need to talk to Tommy,” you said eventually.

“I’m really sorry, Doc,” she said quietly.

“Me too.”

You made yourself stop crying before you knocked on Tommy’s door and opened it quietly, half hoping he would be asleep when you went inside.

No such luck.

“Hey, Sweetheart,” he half smiled at you.

“Hey,” you half smiled back. “How are you feeling?”

“Been better,” he shrugged. “Been worse.”

You nodded.

“The nurse - Kristen, I think? - said Joel was fine,” he said. You nodded again.

He just looked at you for a moment, like he was memorizing you.

“I never had a shot, did I?” He asked.

You smiled tightly.

“I told you I wasn’t sure I could ever love anyone else,” you said softly.

“You did,” he nodded. “Just hoped I’d convince you.”

“You and me both.”

He smiled at that and held out his hand for you. You took it, letting him tug you to him.

“You’ve been the most fun I’ve had since the end of the world,” he said. “Glad we got to figure it out.”

“Me too,” you sniffed, trying not to cry.

He smiled and kissed your forehead.

“Go sleep,” he said. “You look like you’re about to fall over.”

“Yeah, I think I am,” you laughed. “Your brother is fucking heavy, I’m never hauling him anywhere again…”

He laughed at that, too. You looked at him.

“I really tried,” you said quietly. “But…”

“I know,” he said. “Now get out of here before I do something stupid.”

You nodded and went for the door.

“Hey,” he said.

You stopped and turned back to him.

“Here’s looking at you, Kid.”

You smiled, shook your head a little, and left him behind.

A/N: Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as things ramp up as we build into the core story of TLOU. Tommy will still be around for a bit but boyfriend Tommy is over. So sorry for all the Tommy Stans! This was always the plan, though. He was here to help Joel figure his shit out and give Doc a way out of her single-mindedness when it comes to Joel.

I do have a tag list, please let me know if you'd like to be added, just comment below! If you've asked and haven't made it on, please ask again. I'm trying to get everyone added but I think people may have slipped through the cracks because I have no organizational system for this.

Thank you so much for reading and commenting and letting me know how the story makes you feel! It's a joy to write for you all, thank you for hanging out with my characters :)

Taglist: @paleidiot @ayamenimthiriel @ginger-swag-rapunzel @drewharrisonwriter @flugazi @pedropascalsbbg @taoyuji @starstruckmusiciansartghost @splendsay @bigboiseason123 @jpbplvr @ashleyandring @mrsyixingunicorn10 @sloanexx @ninaminaromina @lady-bellyn

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #smut fic #fanfic

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thehyperfixationspeedrunner · 7 months ago

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HIIIIIIIIIII WE HAVENT TALKED IN A WHILE HRU

WHICH HYPERFIXATION ARE YOU ON NOW HUH 👀

AND WOULD YOU REC?

HIIIIIII, I FINISHED HIGH SCHOOL YESTERDAY AND I'M IN EXAMS SEASON SO I'M NOT DOING GREAT, HRU???

Girl, you just opened a big bag of worms cause this hyperfixation has taken over the other like 4 that were in my mind at the same time (one of them since January).

There are just a few things I have to warn you about the show before I throw my words at you: there is blood and violence, they do not shy from that; there is physical abuse mentioned and shown (although it's just shown in one scene, if that's the only thing bothering you but you wanna watch I can tell you when to skip); there is cursing, nothing major just what a high schooler would normally curse; abusive relationships and bullies are subjects that are heavily spoken about; death, don't know if that's a trigger but better safe that sorry and I'm pretty sure that's it

First, I have to ask you two questions:

Do you like supernatural stuff?

Do you like gays?

If the answer to both of them is yes, then you need to watch dead boy detectives. It's a series about two ghosts (Edwin Payne- "the brains", spent 70 years in hell, sassy little bitch, from London 1916 and speaks like it, gay, a fucking nerd, somehow everyone is in love with him except his crush (more like the crush doesn't know that he is in love with him, but whatever), so much trauma it's insane, tumblr's favourite; Charles Rowland- said crush, "the brawns", so bisexual but doesn't know it yet, do you know that character that is so charismatic and funny but actually has so much fucking trauma? That's him, daddy issues (because of abuse), from 1989, has a magical bag, so fucking british, so fucking protective of his friends it's insaneee like he will kill someone for them) and these two ghosts are detectives and solve cases to ghosts so they can move on to the afterlife.

This show is so fucking well written, you have no idea, like Charles and Edwin's relationship is so unique, because even though there is a romantic subtext they are best friends before eveything and they know eachother so well it's so rare to see such good friendship where they are so open with eachother in media specially between men (also their ship name is painland, if that's not enough reason to watch the show idk what is).

Another great example of the amazing writing is that characters like Charles normally have their trauma super overlooked, but in this show his trauma is treated so well, there is still a lot to work from it (reason 484837 why I need a season 2) but the other characters actually see his trauma and acknowledge it, it's so fucking satisfying to me because these type of characters are always my favourites but they always have that lack of development (I sometimes confuse between my mutuals who likes what but I'm pretty sure you have read hoo so you know Leo Valdez? Yeah, that's what I'm talking about).

Speaking of development, they do not leave characters behind. There is this character called Niko Sasaki, who is this girl who loves anime and loves love and is always so positive and so sweet and always thinking of others. Now, when someone describes this type of character, my first reaction is "oh, so she's just the comedic relief who is going to have a shallow ass personality" (no shade to that type of characters, shade to the writers who leave them behind), BUT SHE'S NOT. She also has her traumas (dead dad, literally almost dies, more shit that I don't wanna spoil) and they acknowledge it and they develop her. She may not be one of the main focuses of season 1 (I'm pretty sure if we get a season 2, she's gonna have more screen time because of... [spoilers]) but she still has some character development, in the 3rd episode they are solving a pretty brutal case and she says that she doesn't want to be part of it because she litterally almost died the previous week and it's totally okay, she stays at home watching scooby doo and eating noodles, again so fucking satisfying.

Since we're talking about Niko, I have to talk about the dynamics of this show because OMG THE DYNAMICS OF THIS SHOW. Like, you look at the way I described Niko and the way I described the boys and you would think that they would focus on Niko and Charles relationship, right? The two charismatic kids, makes sense. Wrong, it's actually Niko and Edwin's. At first, you're like "you're gonna pair Mr. Horrible at relationships with other people and hates physical touch with Ms. Loves love and hugs fucking everyone?" BUY IT WORKS, IT WORKS SO GODDAMN WELL, IT'S INSANE, they easily became my favourite dynamic of all times, it's so fucking good. Actually, Charles and Niko is the only dynamic that isn't really developed in this show (which is a crime honestly, how could they).

Another thing is that there is one (1) antagonist out of four who isn't likeable. And that fucker is litterally Crystal's abusive demon ex (I've realised now that I haven't talked about my queen yet, she's a bitch, she's a physic, she's fucking badass, she doesn't know who she is until the 8th episode (not in a philosophical way, she litterally loses her memory) and her dynamic with Edwin is fucking hilarious, it's an on going competion of who gets to be the bitcher). There is a witch who is immortal, kidnaps young girls to feed to her snake and has an obsession with getting revenge on the boys and Crystal (they hadn't met Niko when they confronted her for the first time), but she serves cunt everytime she's on screen and she's so hilarious, you love to hate her and deep down you also love her. There is a cat king who is the reason Crystal, Edwin and Charles get stuck in the town they spend the season (they live in London, the town is somewhere on the US coast, technically it's just Edwin who is stuck, but they're all ride or die) all because he wants to fuck Edwin but Edwin doesn't, but his hilarious and annoying in a funny way and a loser and a simp. There is a woman from the afterlife office who spends the whole season trying to catch the boys (who are running away from death, it's a whole thing), fails and ends up stuck with them, I just got mad at her when she interrupted a love confession, but we got it later so it's fine. Then there's David the demon (yes, that's his name, yes, that's hilarious) who is Crystal's abusive ex, is able to get inside her mind whenever he wants and is just so fucking annoying (but is such a great simbol of abusive relationships and how much they scare you even after it's over).

Also, no one, and I mean no one, in this fucking show is straight, whether it is confirmed or not it doesn't matter (although 4 of the nine recurent characters are canonically queer).

Don't know if you heard about it, but this is from the same universe as the show The Sandman and there are two cameos in this show (both Death and Despair get a scene).

There are two things that weren't perfect in this show: the fact that Charles and Niko got one (1) scene together (fucking crime) and the CGI, not that it's all bad it's just they focused on the more visual scenes that make you go uuhh and aaahhh but there is a roof where they sometimes talk where the CGI is so bad, but it's just background shit, do not decide not to watch because of it the only scenes like that are the roof scenes and a scene in the forest (again, background shit).

I did just spend around an hour writing all of this, you are not gonna read this whole ass essay, but just watch the show, it's on illegal sites Netflix (although if you have Netflix, put it, even if it's just background noise, we need the views, this is Netflix and a not that cheap queer show we're talking about)

#dead boy detectives #dbda #niko sasaki #charles rowland #crystal palace #crystal palace surname von hoverkraft #edwin payne #esther #cat king #david the demon #night nurse

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belleame333 · 2 years ago

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how i overcame my phone addiction.

so for some background, i used to have a screen time of about 8 hours daily. i used my phone all day, every day, obsessively scrolling through tiktok and other social media apps. this did a significant number on my mental health and social life, and when i decided i wanted to work on myself i knew that this was the thing i needed to change first. so here's what i did to bring it down to less than one hour a day (some of the advice i took is from faye bate on youtube, go check out her video on the topic!)

turned off my app limit: this may seem counterproductive, but whenever i had my app limit on i would just press 5 more minutes until the next pop-up came and i would just press ignore and continue scrolling. i realized that it just didn't do anything.

deleted ALL games and social media: yes, even tumblr, and now i only have it on my laptop. i know many have FOMO (fear of missing out), and i did too, that is what keeps pulling us back to all these social media apps. no, it won't kill you if you do not see your friend's insta story or what your favorite tiktoker wore that day. trust me, it was hard to delete it all, especially since it gave me that feeling of being connected, but i just did it. that's what you need to remember in this whole journey: to just do it, even if you don't want to at first, you will not regret it. we see so much of other people's lives on social media that we forget about our own, that's why i cut my screen time so much, i wasn't focusing on myself and my own life.

put my phone far away/turn it off: whenever i leave a room i leave my phone in there, i put it up somewhere out of reach or i just turn it off completely, easy as that. also, when i go to school, i leave my phone at home sometimes so i don't go on it during class.

stopped listening to music: this was probably the hardest thing to do because i used to listen to music 24/7 but that fucked my brain up too since i just couldn't sit in silence without thinking about putting on music, and if i put on music, i also wanted to scroll through my phone. this also helped me to calm my mind a bit, because before i was constantly just singing in my head.

found other hobbies: i now do yoga, meditate, work out, read and solve puzzles; not long ago these were all things i didn't do because i was always on my phone. you don't even need a new hobby necessarily, you just need to do other stuff to get your mind off your phone, preferably something productive that's good for you.

did a dopamine detox: this is what i recommend most tbh. i found simonesquared’s videos on the topic to be the best and i followed what she did. i suggest you do your research into it but basically, it's not interacting with anything that gives us a dopamine kick (our phones, music, etc.) for a full day. i do this regularly now and it's been a great help with getting me away from my phone.

i truly hope someone found this helpful, love u xx

#self improvement #self care #that girl #clean girl #pink pilates princess #leveling up #level up journey #level up tips #feminine energy #divine feminine #dark feminine energy #self help #wellness #health and wellness #self healing #vanilla girl #my post

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couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name · 8 months ago

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I like your blog, we've been mutuals for years. But blogging about the met gala when there are children dying in Gaza? Fuck the met gala and your celebrity worship

at what point have I made it seem like I don't care about/support what's happening in gaza? I don't share a lot about it, but that's because most of what I see have graphic images and videos attached to the posts, and while I understand the thought process behind sharing them to make it seem more real to people, I'm uncomfortable with it because I know that if I was in that situation, vulnerable and injured or dead, I wouldn't want people gawking at me online just so they can pat themselves on the back for 'suffering in solidarity' by making themselves uncomfortable and miserable looking at me. I'm trying to be respectful. I've still reblogged things about gaza though. but honestly, if you've been following me for years, you'd know I'm a pacifist and wouldn't need me to make a statement saying I don't support people being killed. my God, dude.

also, celebrity worship? I can't even tell you who half the people at the met even were. I just like fashion. I post about a bunch of different things on this blog, and you haven't complained about that, so where's the threshold for things people are allowed to enjoy while bad things are happening in the world? fashion is off limits, but doctor who isn't? I can still post about musicals and not support murder, but aesthetic pictures are on par with launching a bomb myself? I truly hate to break it to you, but sharing links on tumblr is not going to fix this situation. denying yourself any shred of entertainment or enjoyment does not give you a moral high ground. what's happening is horrendous, but even if this is somehow magically peacefully solved tomorrow, there will still be other atrocities happening elsewhere in the world. that's unfortunately just how life goes. in no world am I saying we shouldn't care about every single atrocity that happens, I'm just saying if you can't find some time to be happy in your own life just because bad things are happening to others, you will never truly live a life at all. it sucks! but that's how it is. it's like when someone close to you dies, and the first time you laugh after you've started grieving feels like you're betraying them. but you aren't betraying them for continuing to live, just like you aren't betraying anyone else in the world who's suffering just because you don't spend 24/7 thinking and talking about them.

I do truly, genuinely, hope this all comes to a peaceful end, and soon. I'm not naive enough to believe for certain that it will. but I do know, at the end of the day, people are already aware of it. people know what's going on. sharing photos of dead and mutilated babies will not make any difference. you, and I, and everyone else online are not going to personally save gaza. pressure needs to be put on the people who can actually do something to make a change, and they don't care about what's online. arguing with people because you don't perceive them as doing 'enough' isn't going to accomplish anything other than getting them to a point of making them eye roll whenever they see you post, because at the end of the day, unless you're literally a top politician, you are doing the exact same amount to help as someone who reblogs less posts than you. sorry.

#asks #molly mumbles #save our souls #which is my world news tag btw I also put good things in there but I'm also not great at keeping up with it #it's just occuring to me that someone could see me tag like something good 'save our souls' and think I'm against it lol #thatbakedjedi

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a-very-tired-jew · 2 months ago

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Im so tired. The anniversary of October 7th and Sinwar's death have opened up opportunities for anti-semites to show their true colours. For example, a star trek the original series blog I follow has started posting about mourning Sinwar and how violent "resistance" by Palestinians is fine and that October 7th was justified. If you look on my tumblr you will see my reply to one of their posts. Anyways, it's ironic that they are a Star Trek TOS blog since three of the main characters are played by Jewish men (and Leonard Nimoy was openly and proudly Zionist and Jewish), and it's about a pacifist future (they never consider killing someone as a method to fix oppression). How the fuck does someone watch Star Trek and then celebrate the massacre of people because they "had it coming"?!!

Not only were they played by Jews, Nimoy used very Jewish traditions and cultural aspects for the Vulcans.

It all plays in to the fandomization of this war. People using fandom spaces to platform their hate, say “this character/actor would never support X!” while completely ignoring the context of the material or what those characters would do.

But if we want to engage in the “what would they do?”

Well…

There are plenty of scenarios in Trek where the crew changes their opinion on something when they have the full context. In this case you could easily present them this war as a fight for freedom and resistance, and they’d believe it and support it. But then they’d go in and see past actions of Hamas, what their leadership does, and the interview(s) that Sinwar gave where he said he’d sacrifice over 100k civilians for his goals.

They’d be presented the walls, checkpoints, and Iron Dome as tools of oppression. Then they find out that they were built to prevent constant and consistent attacks against Israeli citizens. They’d find out that they were defensive measures built in response.

They’d be presented the colonizer narrative and then there’d be a moment where Spock tells the crew that archaeological evidence shows the indigeneity of Jews. Someone would also ask who they’re a colony of during talks and witness how Hamas and co responds in an irrational and ungrounded manner.

They’d be aghast at all of that.

They’d also find out about the atrocities that Israel has committed and the shit their politicians do.

They’d shame both sides and hold talks until peace actually happens. And if not? Well they’d back off and realize some things just can’t be solved in that space and time, and that some times the Federation has no right to impose its views on others.

It earnestly sounds like a blog that commits Federationless behavior.

#antisemitism #star trek #Vulcan traditions and culture was based on Jewish tradition and culture #if you’re a Trekkie and support Hamas you’re supporting the antagonists and villains

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starryoak · 5 months ago

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So! That Dungeon Meshi/Delicious in Dungeon sure is a great show! So much so that I made an OC for it! Please click the link so you can see it where tumblr doesn’t ruin the quality

The thing is, though? I kind of came up with her to fix the most significant flaw I saw in the ending, one that I’m not sure anyone else is going to be insane enough to actually think is a flaw like I do.

The thing is, this flaw is connected to some pretty major endgame spoilers, so if you don’t want to be spoiled, you really can’t stick around; this entire character’s story is intimately tied to the ending of Dungeon Meshi.

Ok! So, to start off, explaining my perspective requires knowledge of one fact; Marcille is my favorite character in the series, for one specific reason. I am extremely thanatophobic.

I have an intense, all consuming fear of death that used to leave me literally wracked with actual physical pain from the nightly panic attacks I would have obsessing over my own impending mortality, something that only stopped because I take intense mood dampeners, not because I ‘got over it’.

So, obviously, Marcille’s backstory and motivation resonated deeply with me, her fears and obsessions over her friend’s mortality, the omnipresent specter of death trailing behind her stealing all her loved ones away, how she grew up with the looming knowledge of her father’s increasing age and his inevitable passing, something that hit me even harder because not only do I do the same thing, obsess over my parents increasing age, but Marcille’s dad physically resembles my own.

Her goal of equalizing the lifespans of the races, ultimately… I think it’s a noble one! It is the ultimate injustice of living that death is inevitable, one that I genuinely believe is worth solving. I don’t actually know if we ever will, it is probably impossible… but that doesn’t mean we should give up. Back in the 1300s, smallpox was inevitable. Now, it doesn’t exist outside of a lab! For most of human existence, half of all people died before puberty. Now, child mortality is down to less than 5%. https://xkcd.com/1520/ sums it up pretty nicely.

And then, the ending of the series. Well. Look. It’s not just that I disagree with how the series ends with “well, if you just eat right and exercise, that will release you from grasping your own mortality”. I mean, it is a lot that. But I’m used to series ending with some form of “people with a healthy fear of their own mortality are evil/insane/stupid/cowards”, hell, most characters genuinely afraid of their own death in media are villains!

Not only that, to a certain extent, it’s very logical that the series end with a moral about accepting the circle of life. It’s inevitable when the series focuses so much on food, because death is an unavoidable part of that cycle; to eat, we must kill. Even vegetarians can’t escape that fact, with how much we’ve learned about how plants are more alive than we once thought.

It's not that the series ended with that moral that bothers me, or at least. I wouldn’t be as bothered as I am, if it was just that. There’s another couple aspects to the ending that I feel were mishandled. One of them is one I think that if most people were honest, would also agree, or at least understand why I think it’s a misstep, and one that only someone who’s insane in the exact same way I am would even care about in the first place.

I’ll start with the reasonable criticism first; I think, if they wanted to really sell me on the idea that Marcille is truly changed and has come to accept death as a natural consequence of life like she says she has when they discuss the potential of Falin’s resurrection failing… Falin should have died, then.

It’s not that I’m not happy she’s alive, or that I don’t want her and Marcille to be together, but rather, it rings extremely hollow to me to have Marcille go “Oh, I’ve learned to accept death, after all of this journey, if Falin’s resurrection fails, I can accept that.” and then have her not have to test that newfound conviction.

It feels too convenient, like the series couldn’t actually commit to that moral fully. Beyond that, if anything, I would think that the journey they went on would make Marcille more firm in her desire to resurrect Falin, if anything.

But I can understand the logic they want you to go with, I just think that it feels like a cop-out to try and sell me on this “death is the natural consequence of life” moral, and then go “oh, except for Falin. Falin gets to live, because she deserves it.”

Why does she deserve it more? Why did you say all that if not to set up the failure? So you could reassure us “don’t worry, Marcille doesn’t have those naive, stupid ideas about improving the lives of the short lived races anymore, she’s learned better! Now she understands that some people just deserve to live longer than others!” Admittedly, that’s me being uncharitable, but it just feels wrong to me.

Now, onto the second, more insane person critique, one that I don’t think anyone but me even thought about, and one that I think most people would think is being too nitpicky.

But the thing is, it relates to the worldbuilding, and as much as people will likely want to tell me “you’re thinking too hard about a minor aspect of worldbuilding”, the thing is that Dungeon Meshi, above all, is very obviously a labor of love from the creator, and she clearly thinks about her worldbuilding a lot!

So it feels like saying that I’m overthinking it is dismissing her intricately crafted world as not worthy of engaging with fully. You can’t have it both ways, where you only want people engaging in your worldbuilding if they’re saying something positive.

Anyway; it has to do with a very minor, throwaway panel in the discussion of the history of the Winged Lion/demon’s interaction with the world outside its dimension in chapter 87; where it’s revealed, offhand, that the differences in lifespan between the races is in and of itself caused by the demon granting wishes, as can be seen here.

And. Well. That sits wrong with me. What happened to the conviction that it’s inherently wrong and twisted to use the demon’s powers? What happened to the conviction that they need to reverse all the changes that the demon forced on the world? Oh, so, since it happened so long ago, it’s no longer a problem? It’s only a problem when someone wants to use the demon to equalize the lifespans?

And I realize it’s insane to care this much about such a minor, throwaway line, but honestly? I think both my complaints about the ending stem from the same root frustration with the hypocrisy of it. Death is natural and worth accepting, except Falin’s death, then she deserves to live because her friends worked so hard for it. The demon’s powers are inherently wrong to use and must be reversed, except when it happened thousands of years ago, then it’s just the way things are and we have to get used to it.

What bothers me especially is how unforced of an error it was. Just have the differences in lifespans be because the world is a fundamentally cruel and unjust place, like it is in real life! You don’t have to ‘explain’ it, because it’s not something that needs explaining.

But now that you’ve brought it up, suddenly I have to ask, well, why were their demon wishes valid and not Marcille’s? Because you said that the demons powers were inherently warped and twisted and that they had to undo all of the damage it caused. And I do agree that the demon was causing damage and needed to be stopped! I just dislike the hypocritical criticism of Marcille’s entirely reasonable desire to not outlive all her loved ones by centuries.

Anyway. So, how does this tie into my OC? I’ll get to that!

This is Lymsie Bens, and she’s a half-foot mage, something that, if you remember, is actually a fairly rare thing for her to be! So how did this come to be, considering Chilchuck says that most half-foots fear higher magic, on account of them being unwilling test subjects for elves whenever they got too close?

Lymsie grew up the daughter of an older couple of relatively rich and very well off half-foots, Benbur Sams and Pamsie Hobs, living in a town in the Eastern Continent not all that far from the magic school that Marcille and Falin attended, and ever since she was young, she grew up with one thing weighing on her mind; The deaths of her parents.

Oh, no, her parents are still alive! Even by the time of this picture!

But she still knew it would happen. She loves her parents, more than anything in the world, and she would look at them every day and count the grey hairs, the wrinkles, small as they may be, considering they’re half-foots, and look youthful for far longer than the other races.

As much as the other races wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at them, they were old! Or at least, older than most couples usually are when they had children, and Lymsie was incredibly aware of it every time she looked at their faces, and saw them getting older and older.

And that didn’t even get into her own fears. As a child, she tried to befriend the gnomes that went to the private school her parents had sent her to, one that had mostly gnomes and where she was one of the only half-foots, and while racism meant she didn’t succeed very often, the times she succeeded, she would always end up having to graduate friends within the year.

She would find herself outgrowing them quickly, and her friends would look at her with pity, like she was just seconds away from keeling over, like they shouldn’t get too atttached to someone who would die so soon.

It made her realize something that left her feeling cold and scared; she was going to die. And not only was she going to die, she was going to die far sooner than she wanted. Well, she didn’t ever want to die, but she especially didn’t want to die so soon!

Eventually, she started feeling bitter and resentful about the whole thing, how unfair it was. Not just that the long lived races had all the power and money, but that they had the lifespans they did at all!

And maybe it would have been easier not to resent them as she grew up if making friends didn’t get harder and harder as she grew up, as kids started picking up prejudices from their parents and started caring about their social status enough that they don’t want to be seen being friends with a half-foot… maybe she would have grown up a little more well adjusted.

As well, while the private school was definitely fancy by the standards of half-foots, it wasn’t a very affluent one for gnomes, and as such, the magic they taught was rudimentary at best.

The teachers clearly didn’t expect the half-foots to get anything out of the classes, to the point where they were practically left alone the whole period, while the teachers focused on the more ‘promising’ students.

But Lymsie wasn’t willing to let that happen to her, to be left behind like her fellows; she wanted to learn magic if it was the last thing she did. She knew there had to be a solution to her problems with magic.

So, despite the teachers’ prejudices, she applied herself, and she forced them to acknowledge her skills. They didn’t like it, but they had no choice but to recognize her skills for what they were; extraordinary, especially for a half-foot, a race supposedly predisposed against magic.

After Lymsie graduated from school with the highest honors that the school was willing to give her, she found herself looking for higher education in the arts of dungeon and healing magic, having learned all she could at the level she was at.

She first tried to apply to the highest magic school nearby, the same Marcille and Falin attended, but there was a problem. The school refused to accept a half-foot, even if she easily passed the requirements.

A half-foot simply didn’t have the raw magical talent that was required for higher learning, you see. No matter how she begged or pleaded, she couldn’t change such a simple fact of biology.

Lymsie wasn’t satisfied. If she couldn’t get into that school, there were others in the world. She simply would have to say goodbye to her parents, secretly fearing, no matter how ridiculously, that they would die before she could get back.

Her parents supported her in her endeavors to learn magic; they were proud of their daughter’s accomplishments and how far she’d come, even if privately they felt her goals unrealistic.

Lymsie eventually found a school willing to teach her, but it was an uphill battle. Magic schools just weren’t made for half-foots; it was a struggle to use furniture made for elves and tallmen, but she refused to give in. Simple setbacks like a little discomfort wouldn’t stop her.

She poured herself into research, defying those who coddled her, cooing over how cute it was she was even trying, when everyone knows that half-foots simply can’t channel the mana required for true magic.

She focused her research on the magic of healing, the art of resurrection had to be connected somehow! She knew there had to be more to it. As she researched more, it became clearer and clearer that there was something missing to the discussion, some secret hidden and kept out of textbooks, and she wanted to find it.

Lymsie’s research deepened, spending her days glued to every book she could find in the library, excelling in her studies and at every test, she was making a name for herself among the school for her talents.

In truth, it wasn’t exactly a good reputation she was garnering. Her stubbornness and bitter affect didn’t make her many friends, something she eventually realized herself, but it was too little, too late.

She couldn’t win back people who were determined to see her in a bad light, for having the opinions she did and the skills she had, so she pressed on ahead anyway. Eventually, she had learned everything she could through conventional means, and she had a choice.

She could head back home to her parents, accept defeat against the insurmountable weight of her own mortality, live out the rest of her life content she had beaten the odds and learned what she could.

Or, she could keep searching. Keep pushing the boundaries she had come across in her research, the walls she had encountered that seemed deliberately put up to stop her from attaining her goals.

There was only one choice for Lymsie, in the end. To keep going. In truth, she already knew where to look, though only because of warnings to stop; dark magic. Of course she had heard the rumors, of powerful magic that elves possessed, of how they would kidnap half-foots for cruel experiments to test the limits of what magic could do.

While she had heard those warnings, the idea didn’t dissuade her; in fact, it excited her. There was potential, magic beyond what she had learned, if only she could find it. It meant there were people out there testing the limits of what could be done with magic!

If she could learn what the secrets were to it, the power could be hers! The idea of being spirited away, of experiments that stretched the boundaries of conventional magic, it was a dream!

It didn’t matter to her that it could be dangerous, it became a private fantasy of hers, to imagine herself whisked away to the land of the elves, to see magic beyond her wildest dreams.

Lymsie would dutifully send letters to her parents informing her of her research, but she kept her fantasies and pursuit of dark magic secret. She knew that her parents would worry for her if they found out she had such dangerous intentions. She didn’t want them to worry, though not enough to stop her search, of course.

She chased after every rumor of dark magic she could, though she began to learn the art of not being a colossal bitch to everyone she meets, of playing into stereotypes to get what she wanted.

It never seemed to get her closer to her true goal, the rumors of ancient magic not enough to satisfy her ultimate desires, no elves willing to indulge the fantasies of a single half-foot, until one day, out of nowhere, the sky opened up.

From massive tears in the fabric of the sky itself, long and terrifying arms descended down and began to pluck people out of their homes and villages, massive eyes peeking out from the dark void beyond the stars above.

Destruction rained, for a brief moment, the world itself seemed like it was going to end. But what Lymsie saw was the culmination of everything she had ever hoped for. Ancient magic, pouring out from the heavens themselves, right there for her to see.

And then it stopped. As quickly as the chaos began, it ended, and with it, Lymsie saw her dreams falling away as well. She knew then, she had to discover what happened. Whatever it takes, she knew that she would do it. Her goals, for once, finally seemed to be in reach!

Even with the desire of elves to keep their ancient magic hidden, in the end there was very little they could do to hide what had happened; the secret of the dungeon’s magic became known. The infinite well of energy that existed beyond the stars, the malevolent will that only desired to feed, and, of course, the entire kingdom that had sprung up overnight.

Rumors flew, of the king who had conquered and devoured the demon, and what was more, of the mysterious mages that had ruled the kingdom before him. The lunatic mage, who rumors say had cursed the kingdom with immortality, it was confirmation; the impossible could be done. Magic could free her from the shackles of her fate.

There were even more rumors, of resurrections and ancient magic, so much that Lymsie couldn’t discern fact from fiction. They couldn’t all be true, could they? She would never know, unless she tried.

She set out to the Golden Kingdom, to uncover the truth at any costs. It was a long and grueling journey to be undertaken alone by someone so small, but her affluence helped lighten the load. Though nothing could keep the travels from being long, it became clearer and clearer as she kept on, that the Golden Kingdom was alive with ancient magic, a kingdom that had been touched so deeply by the past that the very ground was charged with mana.

She was singleminded in her goals, to seek out the truth of what had happened that day, to uncover the center of this grand mystery. And luckily, the kingdom was abuzz with travelers, it seemed that whatever had happened had left the kingdom in dire need of subjects, and they were accepting anyone.

Moreover, they were accepting anyone, of any race. Lymsie had never met a kobold or orc before in her life, and suddenly she found herself surrounded by them. Not only that, but they were welcome as much as any other.

Lymsie tried not to hope, tried not to let herself believe that she could be accepted as well, if other ‘lesser’ races had found themselves welcome, could she be as well? It was almost frightening to imagine after how long she had spent being rejected by others.

There came a point, as Lymsie settled into her base of operations (she refused to call it a home without her parents beside her), that she realized there was nowhere else to look but to the castle itself. The newly crowned royals were the center of all of this, she was sure.

She investigated every rumor, every errant piece of information she could, playing the conscientious citizen who simply needed to know what kind of place she was living in. She was but a small and simple half-foot who didn’t want trouble, you see.

She received bits and pieces of information that told the story of a small circle of the highest echelons of the kingdom, who had come from nothing; privately, she suspected this to be a falsehood.

Who could believe that elves would not have swooped in to appoint their own leaders? She suspected that this tale of simple adventurers rising to power through their wits and guile was simple mythologizing, something all dynasties did to establish legitimacy.

The king, who had devoured the demon, who had destroyed the only hope Lymsie had of solving her problems, and the sister who was rumored to have been resurrected from certain death, beyond anything anyone had done before, the half-foot who ran the adventurer’s union, at the side of royalty? It was so unbelievable that Lymsie had to uncover the truth of it all.

The sister of the king, the one who the most fantastical and obviously false rumors had claimed to be a dragon, was clearly the center of what had happened, and Lymsie knew she had to reach her. If rumors of her death were in any way true, she was the key to everything Lymsie desired.

Sneakily, she began to worm her way upward. With her money, it wasn’t hard to establish herself among the elite half-foots, and though she had no real interest in adventuring, she joined the half-foot’s guild, happy to pay their fees if it meant she could learn more about the mysterious leader who supposedly had ties to the king.

Asking around, it became clear, the rumors were true. He indeed knew the king and his mysterious sister. Waiting for her moment, one day, it happened. A woman walked into the guild while the leader was there, and Lymsie knew instantly, this was the mysterious sister of the king.

Mana radiated off of her like a flame radiated heat, and her eyes were a sight that sent Lymsie off, her predatory gaze giving her an unnatural and threatening aura. Lymsie watched as the union leader talked with the dragon woman, something that Lymsie had no choice now but to believe was true.

Lymsie couldn’t interrupt, but she now knew her target. She would talk to this woman. Discover the secrets she had hiding that had summoned the demon into this world. She approached the union’s leader warily, approaching the subject as casually as she could; was that the king’s sister? Were the rumors true?

She kept it as light and airy as she could, that this was mere gossip to her. The leader was cagey, unwilling to give up any information of substance, as he rightly pointed out it was none of her business.

Realizing she had nothing more she could learn from the leader, she watched as the woman left the union and slipped out as well, staying as far as she could from the very obviously dangerous girl while still keeping her in eyesight, she was surprised to see the king’s sister stop to talk excitedly with another woman… or at least, she assumed she was a woman, given she had so little experience with orcs, she wasn’t sure.

She waited until the king’s sister was long gone, and walked up to speak with the orc woman.

The woman (my friend @vacamariposa’s OC! Thanks for letting me borrow her) introduced herself to Lymsie as Vur, and Lymsie suddenly realized that she had heard rumors about an orc working at the castle, something that many of the Golden Kingdom’s inhabitants found relevant for reasons that Lymsie very deliberately didn’t want to know.

As Lymsie tried to play her usual weaselly and evasive probing game, she found that the orc woman happily would gossip about the dragon woman, whose name was apparently Falin, and about any topic that Lymsie asked. Asking about Falin gave her a veritable wave of information, as Vur was apparently friends with the woman, and she got to hear outlandish stories of how the kingdom’s first feast was apparently made with the body of the dragon that Falin had been transformed into.

But what was more interesting to learn wasn’t anything about Falin, but rather came up when Lymsie asked how on earth a woman could have ended merged with a dragon; she learned of another woman she had never heard of before, an elf named Marcille.

Apparently, there was another mage the kingdom had besides the lunatic, and what was most interesting to Lymsie was how the orc gossiped of the elf’s strange obsessions with ancient magic; neuroses that landed dangerously close to her own.

Though Vur didn’t know her nearly as well as Falin, she still was able to tell Lymsie where she could find this mysterious elf, though Lymsie privately wondered if she should have been so willing to divulge these things to her, she thanked Vur and prepared to meet this mysterious Marcille woman.

Which lead to the fated meeting between minds who, by all rumors, would have to agree. Lymsie woke up early in the morning and headed to the castle. Being a half-foot made sneaking in perhaps easier than it had any right to be and definitely was because they assumed anyone who’d have problems with Marcille would be likely to be another elf, but in the end all it took was some minor trespassing on castle grounds.

And, as Lymsie knocked on the door, she was greeted by the surprisingly unassuming face of the mage who had apparently brought the demon to the surface, and introduced herself as a researcher of ancient magic.

“I sincerely apologize for my actions as lord of the dungeon!” were the first words out of Marcille’s mouth, at the same time as Lymsie asked “Are you still pursuing your research?”, answering her question in a way Lymsie truly hadn’t expected.

What do you mean, you’re sorry? You perform feats of magic that I’ve been dreaming of my whole life, and you’re apologizing!? Lymsie couldn’t believe it! And, alternatively, neither could Marcille!

Marcille, flustered in her usual manner, asked how on earth Lymsie could see what she did as a good thing; all the damage the demon caused and all the lives ruined weighed heavy on her mind.

Lymsie responded that Marcille’s mission, the one she had summoned the demon for, was the most noble cause that she could think of, one that she herself pursued; the secrets of immortality.

Marcille responded, no, you don’t understand, immortality is a curse, watching your friends grow old and die around you, you lose all sense of self, she’s seen it happen!

Lymsie scoffs, of course, how expected of an elf to think of how it feels to outlive someone; newsflash, asshole, she doesn’t want to be outlived either. Marcille sputters in confusion and anger and slams the door in Lymsie’s face.

Well. That could have gone better. Lymsie isn’t giving up, she decides, and she’s back the next day, knocking on Marcille’s door, and shoving her foot in the door before Marcille can slam it in her face. Marcille snaps at the half-foot, why can’t you understand that it’s wrong to decide someone else’s lifespan for them!?

Lymsie spits back that it’s awful convenient for her then, that Marcille is doing just that by hiding the research she had worked on from the world! This back and forth goes on for hours, Lymsie getting more and more infuriated by how Marcille doesn’t seem to grasp the potential she abandoned, while Marcille grows more and more conflicted.

Everything Marcille thought she had learned over her journey, flashing before her eyes; the acceptance she had felt she had over death was slipping away, clawed from her tooth and nail by Lymsie’s acerbic arguments.

Marcille began to doubt, really, as they argued, whether or not she really was as over it all as she thought; she knew that her friends said that the secret to a long life was simply eating well, exercising and staying healthy, but her father had done that, and she still vividly recalled how he had withered away in front of her despite his supposed ‘health’. All the health in the world couldn’t erase the simple fact that death was inevitable.

Lymsie could tell her rhetoric was working, she didn’t necessarily understand the intricacies of Marcille’s neuroses, but she could see Marcille faltering, the elf not being one to hide her emotions on her face.

As the arguments continued, Marcille lost much of the acidity in her retorts; part of how she knew that her quest to conquer death was wrong was that the citizens of the Golden Kingdom already had immortality, and they had become miserable and listless over the thousand years the kingdom remained buried.

Lymsie counters that many of the citizens returned to the surface and had resumed their lives, though now aging, clearly they weren’t miserable anymore. Maybe, just maybe, they were miserable because they were trapped in a single place under the watchful eye of a lunatic who took any complaint and punished them severely for speaking out of turn; perhaps that had something to do with it?

Marcille couldn’t deny the sense that Lymsie was making, but ultimately, her friends didn’t want to live forever, they wanted to grow old and die, as much as that frightened Marcille, it wasn’t her right to decide for them that they should live alongside her; she couldn’t use the demon to make versions of them that would stay with her forever, that’s what she had learned.

Well, Lymsie huffed, that’s all fine and good for them, they can die all they want for all she cares. Marcille gasps in offense, but Lymsie presses on; you’re right, you don’t get to decide who lives or who dies or for how long. But why can’t she decide for herself? Why does she just have to accept her lifespan? Can’t there be some middle ground here?

Marcille feels a little pit in her stomach, realizing that she agrees. She’s terrified of that fact, though, terrified of falling into the habits and allure of the demon; and then Lymsie counters, why do we have to use the demon? Why can’t we research a way to live longer using the magic that already exists? Falin had been saved, hadn’t she?

How come Falin deserves to live and Lymsie’s parents don’t? As Lymsie asks that, Marcille’s heart breaks. She sees the despair on Lymsie’s face and recognizes it intimately. Lymsie explains, finally, a little softer, manipulatively; her parents are old, and she wants to spend as much time as she can with them. It’s not fair that she doesn’t have much longer with them.

As Marcille’s eyes begin to water, Lymsie realizes she might have gone too far, even as her rhetoric clearly worked, she clearly touched something deep inside Marcille she hadn’t known would hit.

Marcille sighs; she says needs some time to think this over, and shuts the door on Lymsie, who isn’t sure if she’s won or lost this argument, as she realizes she has tears on her face as well.

Marcille spends the night ruminating on everything Lymsie said; she had always thought of the difference between lifespans from the perspective of outliving everyone she knew. She had never thought about what it would feel like to be someone on the other side of the equation; living your life knowing there were things you could never do or see, because there simply wasn’t enough time.

Marcille had always seen the length of her life as a curse, as a burden she had to carry, but seeing someone who saw it as a blessing… she had never encountered that before.

Even with how King Delgal had feared death so much that it had become forbidden in his kingdom under Thistle, she had seen that as simply an obstacle to Falin’s resurrection, background dressing to an adventure and nothing more.

She knew what she had to do.

The next morning, Lymsie shows up at Marcille’s door, and instead of having to force her way in, Marcille opens the door and invites her in. Please, why don’t we have breakfast together, so we can discuss our research together?

Lymsie gasps, she can’t help but reach for Marcille’s hand and shakes it as hard as she can. Oh, thank you thank you thank you, so so so much! She knows they can do it! You were a powerful enough mage to resurrect a woman from only bones, she’s heard!

Marcille is, admittedly disconcerted how much Lymsie apparently knows about her adventure, but that’s not important, she can find that out.

Now, Lymsie and Marcille work together to find a way to equalize and extend lifespans, for the shorter lived races first, but even elves; everyone in the world deserves to have the choice to live as long as they want; healing magic should theoretically be capable of this; if they can bring people back from the dead, there’s no reason that they should just have to accept old age.

In the end, they may or may not succeed, I haven’t decided. But they certainly contribute to the nascent field of what is known as “science”, magic written down for the masses, when previously science was the domain of elves alone, and they test the boundaries of medical magic together.

Lymsie doesn’t get along very well with any of the other members of the main cast; she blames them for how Marcille was almost convinced of the divine right of longer lived races to rule over the shorter lived ones, and while Marcille protests that framing, that’s really what it boils down to, right?

Longer lived races just deserve to live longer, the shorter lived races just have to accept their fate; nobody should try to change those facts, because what if I personally like shitting myself and dying?

… yeah, Lymsie still isn’t a very polite woman. She knows Falin is important to Marcille, and she’ll act civil enough around her as long as the subject of their research never comes up. And the less said about the rest of the group, the better. Their dynamic with Lymsie is… volatile, much like her personality.

As well, the dubious spy work that she did to infiltrate the castle eventually earns her heat from the vizier, Kabru, but it’s not exactly her problem they had prepared for elves and received one angry little half-foot, she says. Kabru is simply incensed that such an egregious gap in their security existed in the first place. What if Lymsie had ill intent?… did Lymsie have ill intent? He still isn’t sure, but it’s Marcille’s choice to work with her at all, not his.

Essentially, Lymsie is my answer to the ending of Dungeon Meshi and the failings I think it has. I don’t hate everything about the ending, I truly think almost every other aspect of it is perfect, even defeating the demon itself. I just resent the framing of how equality between the races is seen as a bad thing; and no, they don’t frame it that way, but that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it?

If a real life ethnic group had a life expectancy a tenth of the upper class, that would be considered the gravest injustice in the world; hell, to a certain extent, life expectancy is a matter of class; the rich can buy their health while the poor suffer and die, when we have the technology for that not to be the case!

I understand that I’m taking fictional worldbuilding entirely too seriously, but I find it fun, so I’m going to do it! This is my podium and you all are my audience to preach politics.

Lymsie’s design is inspired by several characters, though surprisingly not Frodo Baggins, despite appearances. Her hair was inspired by Barbara and Barbie from a manga called Shadows House, as well as a little bit of Rei from Persona. One aspect you may notice is that she has the same white eyes as Marcille, something IIRC no other character has, to symbolize that she sees the world in the same way as Marcille! Her outfit was inspired by the uniform of the magic academy Marcille and Falin went to, but with different sleeves, because I couldn’t figure out how to make them looked swamped on her. Maybe someday I’ll be brave enough to try long sleeves. Her clothes meant to look somewhat baggy on her, like they’re made for a child of a different race, not her size.

A lot of her personality was inspired by a specific song; “Show Me The Way” by Billy Talent; despite the song not necessarily being meant as being about the inescapable inevitability of death and only mentioning it in passing. It also works with her dynamic with Marcille, like, I can see an animatic in my head of it; I’d go into it further, but the post here is already so long that I think I’ll just save it for another time.

#dungeon meshi #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi spoilers #delicious in dungeon spoilers #dungeon meshi oc #dungeon meshi original character #character design #long post #my art

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