#which I always interpreted as him saying her power from before made him feel godlike

[that-ineffable-devil]

What is David the Demon's deal, btw?? In episode 1 we see him basically summon fish to try to free himself. In episode 7, Crystal says she knows he's in the abandoned skating rink because it reeks of fish.

[aion-rsa]

Scarface’s Tony Montana vs. Michael Corleone: Which Al Pacino is the Boss of Bosses

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Scarface hadn’t been made when Pete Townshend’s 1974 song “The Punk and the Godfather” came out, but The Godfather certainly had. The Who’s anthem was a musical allegory about the rock scene, but the lyrics might as well be interpreted as a conversation between Michael Corleone and Tony Montana. Possibly right before they rumble.

Al Pacino played both men in both movies, and in each film, he begins the story as a punk. But in The Godfather, at least, he grows into the establishment. Michael becomes don. Tony was a shooting star on the other hand, one on a collision course with an unyielding atmosphere. Both roles are smorgasbords of possibilities to an actor, especially one who chased Richard III to every imaginable outcome. Each are also master criminals. But which is more masterful?

The obvious answer would seem to be Michael Corleone because he turned a criminal empire into a multi-billion-dollar international business, and lived to a ripe old age to regret it. Cent’anni, Michael. Tony Montana doesn’t live to see the fruits of his labor, but his career in crime is littered with the successes of excess.

Montana is a hungry, young, loose cannon, just like real-life’s “Crazy” Joe Gallo, who went up against the Profaci family in the street fight which Mario Puzo and Francis Ford Coppola used as inspiration on The Godfather. Gallo stand-in Virgil “The Turk” Sollozzo (Al Lettieri) did a lot of damage while he was trying to muscle in on Don Vito Corleone’s territory, selling white powder. Montana leaves a larger body count in the wake of his cocaine empire career. 

Scarface is Pacino’s film. The whole movie is about Tony Montana and his meteoric rise through money, power and women. The Godfather is a mob movie, crowded with top rate talent in an ensemble case, but it belongs to Marlon Brando. While Michael inherits the position by The Godfather, Part II, he shares Godfather roles with Robert De Niro there, and people come away feeling a little sorry for Fredo. Michael isn’t the focus of an entire film until The Godfather, Part III, and by then folks were only distracted by his daughter. Tony Montana owns the screen from the moment it opens until his last splash in the fountain under the “World Is Yours” sign. The picture was his.

Making Your Bones on First Kills

Pacino brings little of the wisdom of his Godfather role to Scarface’s title character. This is by design. Every crime boss has to make his bones. In mafia organizations, real and cinematic, the button men on the street are called soldiers. And every soldier has to go through basic training before they’re ready to earn their button. Michael gets assassination training from his father’s most trusted capo, Pete Clemenza (Richard S. Castellano) before he goes out to enjoy the veal.

Scarface doesn’t give us many details of the crimes Tony was involved in while still in Cuba, so he makes his cinematic bones executing General Emilio Rebenga in the American detention camp for Cuban refugees. The two scenes are polar opposites in all ways but suspense.

When Michael is sitting at the dinner table with Sollozzo and Police Captain McCluskey (Sterling Hayden), he lets Sollozzo do all the talking, easing him into comfort before pulling the trigger. Tony barely lets Rebenga get a whimper in during his first onscreen hit, which plays closer to an execution. Tony covers the sounds of his own attack with a chant he himself begins. It is a brilliant overplay, especially when compared to another scene that resembles The Godfather, with Tony killing a mid-level gangster and a crooked cop towards the end of Scarface. 

A major difference between the two roles is best summed up in a line Tony says in Scarface. He learned to speak English by watching James Cagney and Humphrey Bogart. Montana comes from the Cagney tradition of broad gangster characterizations. In The Godfather, Kay Adams (Diane Keaton) asks Michael if he’d prefer Ingrid Bergman. The young soldier has to think about it. This is because Pacino is miles removed here from Bogart, who played Bergman’s lover in Casablanca. Pacino’s two gangster icons approached their criminality differently, and Pacino gets to play in both yards.

Pacino remains on an even keel in the Godfather films, but gives a tour de force of violent expression in Scarface, which burns like white heat.

The Handling of Enemies and Vices

In Scarface, Pacino gets to be almost as over the top as he is in Dick Tracy. His accent would never make it past the modern culture board at The Simpsons, but he pulls it off in 1983 because he says so. Pacino bullies the audience into believing it. It’s that exact arrogance which makes us root for Tony Montana. We don’t want to be on his bad side. But the chilled reptilian stare of Michael Corleone is a visual representation of why Sicilians prefer their revenge served cold.

Michael is diabetic, and is usually seen drinking water in The Godfather films. Sure, he has an occasional glass or red wine, and possibly some Sambuca with his espresso, but Michael always keeps a clear head. Tony, not so much. He makes drunken scenes at his favorite nightclubs, and not only gets high on his own supply, but gets so nose deep in it he develops godlike delusions of superheroic grandeur.

Montana is impulsive, instinctive, and decisive. Tony kills his best friend Manny Ribera (Steven Bauer) immediately upon finding him with his little sister Gina (Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio). Michael waits until his sister Connie (Talia Shire) is on a plane to Tahoe before he has her husband killed in a hit years in the planning. Later Michael hangs his head silently as the shotgun blast which kills his brother, Fredo (John Cazale), echoes in the distance.

Tony, meanwhile, continues yelling at Sosa’s right-hand man long after his brains are all over the automobile’s interior.

Clothes Make the Man

Tony is written to be charismatic. Even coked out of his mind, he’d be a better fit in Vegas with Fredo’s crowd than with wet blanket Michael in Tahoe. Tony sports white suits, satin shirts, and designer sunglasses. Michael accessorizes three-piece ensembles with an ascot. This isn’t to say Michael had any issues with getting somebody’s brains splattered all over his Ivy League suit. 

Designed by Theadora Van Runkle, Michael preferred dupioni silk. That’s smart. The dark navy wool chalk-stripe suit Tony wears in his death scene was designed by Tommy Velasco and carries the class of a tuxedo. It was after 6pm. What do you think he is, a farmer?

“I’m the guy in the sky, flying high, flashing eyes. No surprise I told lies, I’m the punk from the gutter,” Roger Daltrey belts out on “The Punk and The Godfather.” This is exactly against the no-flash advice Frank Lopez (Robert Loggia) tries to impart on his young protégé in Scarface. Tony was raised not to take any advice other than his own. He also ignores his consigliere’s advice on several occasions. When Manny reminds Tony the pair of them were in a cage a year ago, the rebel gangster says he’s trying to forget that, he’s going after the boss’ girl. 

“I come from the gutter,” Montana proudly contends. “I know that. I got no education but that’s okay. I know the street, and I���m making all the right connections.” 

By contrast, Michael attended Dartmouth College and then dropped out to join the Marines after the attack on Pearl Harbor. Michael is both intelligent and well-connected, loosely modeled on Joseph Bonanno and Vito Genovese. He also accepts the wisdom of his father, who most closely resembled “The Prime Minister” of New York’s Five Families in the 1950s, mafia boss Frank Costello.

The Better Family Man

Pacino’s Don Michael Corleone has access to all his family’s connections, stretching back to the old world. He learns to expertly pull the strings of powerful men, like his father did, but as he grew, he bent. Michael is friends with senators, meets with the President of Cuba, has money in the Vatican, and confesses his sins to a Pope. Michael was insulated throughout his childhood and criminal career. If Tony gets in trouble, he has to get out of it himself, or with the help of a handful of low-level operatives.

Michael is the family rebel, risking his life and getting medals for strangers. He also gets to be both the prodigal son and the dutiful son. He gets the fatted calf and pays the piper. He even tips the baker’s helper for the effort. Michael comes back to both of his families, crime and birth, with a vengeance. He is there for his father the moment he is needed. Michael is the better family man. Tony’s mother is ashamed of him, and he completely ruins his sister’s wedding. Michael’s family means everything to him, and while he still manages to lose them, he actually maneuvers his two families well over rough waters for a very long run.  

Tony Montana is the rebel’s rebel. Even before he tosses off his bandana at the dishwasher job to make a quick score, we knew. He was born bad, in the cinematically good way. This also makes Montana a natural at crime. In The Godfather, Michael has it in his blood as a Corleone, but has his heart set on college, a straight career, and a shot to bring his whole family into the American Dream, which for Montana only exists as a wet dream.

Tony never gets past the hormonal teenage phase of his love of America. He wants to love his new country to death. He is turned on by the dream. He wants to take it. Not earn it. No foreplay necessary, as he claims his latest victim’s wife as his own.

Managerial Skills

Michael is pretty good with his underlings, when he’s not having them garroted on the way to an airport or advising them to slit their wrists in a bath. He promises Clemenza he can have his own family once the Corleones relocate to Las Vegas. He lets Joe Zaza (Joe Mantegna) get away with murder as the guy he sets up to run his old territory in The Godfather, Part III. Michael doesn’t keep turncoats like his trusted caporegime Tessio (Abe Vigoda) around for old times’ sake, and he doesn’t suffer fools at all. It may seem he cuts Tom Hayden (Robert Duvall) loose a little fast, and without warning or due cause. But if he was a wartime consigliere, he would have seen it coming.

While Tony Montana may have a competitive and fast-tracked entry program for new workers (“hey, you got a job”), he’s also the guy who shoots his right-hand man Manny for marrying his sister. Tony exacts a brutal and dangerous revenge for the death of his friend Angel Fernandez in the Miami chainsaw massacre, but doesn’t lift a finger when his cohort Omar Suarez (F. Murray Abraham) is hanged to death from a helicopter by drug lord Alejandro Sosa (Paul Shenar). Michael does have a tendency to have his soldato kiss his ring, but he’s not entirely a .95 caliber pezzonovante.

Read more

Movies

Scarface: Where Tony Montana Went Wrong

By Tony Sokol

Movies

The Godfather Coda: The Death of Michael Corleone Proves a Little Less is Infinitely More

By Tony Sokol

One of the most important skills a boss must exhibit is how to delegate, and Corleone is a minor Machiavellian master at his delegation. He whispers orders from behind closed doors. Tony is more hands-on. The only reason he tells Manny to “kill that piece of shit�� Frank is because he’s already humiliated his former boss into a shell of a real man.

Montana is in the trenches with his soldiers and sets standards by example. He shoots a guy on a crowded Miami street in broad daylight. Montana is a born triggerman and only reluctantly delegates the duty. He has 10 bodyguards when Sosa men raid his mansion fortress. He takes the invading force with one little friend, an M16A1 rifle with a customized grenade launcher. But it sure doesn’t help the employees getting murdered outside.

A Handle on Finances

We don’t know what kinds of criminal activities the Corleone family were involved in between 1958 and 1979. Still, Michael had proven himself a traditionalist and a bit of a prude, so he spends most of his career shaving his take from harmless vices and avoiding drugs, which he sees as a dirty business. But through whatever means, by The Godfather, Part III, Michael has earned enough capital to buy himself out of crime.

Michael gambles successfully on Wall Street, keeps the Genco olive oil company going, and invests in hotels, casinos, and movie studios. He’s got to be pulling in a billion dollars a year in legitimate business. He makes enough to pad the coffers of the Vatican, and his share of Immobiliare stocks pulls in another $1 billion.

Tony looks like he’s earning about $15 million a month. But it doesn’t look like he puts much stock in his future. He makes no investments, only purchases. His only visible holding is the salon his sister works in. But we also have to take into account that he built his empire from scratch. Michael inherited his. And while the head of the Corleone family can blackmail a U.S. senator with a tragic sex scandal, Montana fares no better than Al Capone with tax evasion.

Who Would Win in a Mob War?

Scarface is as violent as the 1932 Howard Hawk original. Blood is a big expense, and 42 people are killed in the 1985 film. It came out amid other over-the-top action blockbusters like First Blood and the contemporary reality of the South American drug trade. So, it would seem, the film has far more violence. But they are easily matched.

The Godfather has a horse’s head, Scarface has a chainsaw. Michael’s brother Sonny (James Caan) gets machine gunned to smithereens at the toll booth, Tony blows the lower limbs off his would-be assassins at a nightclub. Omar is lynched in a chopper, the upper echelon of the mob is taken out by helicopter fire in The Godfather, Part III. Tony and Michael each get to kill a cop.

Both mob figures survive assassination attempts. Michael loses his wife Apollonia in Sicily in a car bombing meant for him. He also avoids the trap Tessio sets at the meeting with Emilio Barzini (Richard Conte), on his turf, where Michael “will be safe.” Tony lives through his initial professionally ordered hit, as well as being saved by Manny from certain death by chainsaw.

While Michael Corleone is able to take care of Barzini, Victor Stracci, Carmine Cuneo, and Phillip Tattaglia – the leadership of the five families – at the end of The Godfather, Tony Montana can only put up a good fight. The Corleone family would win in a protracted war against Montana’s cartel, but there is a possibility Tony would have outlived Michael while the battles raged. Expert swordsmen aren’t afraid to duel the best in the field, but they’re scared of the worst. 

As far as crime tactics and strategic villainy, Michael Corleone plays a game of chess. Tony Montana plays hopscotch. He wins by skipping cracks in the street, but he only rises as far as the pavement.

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[underthedekutree]

Young Link might have PTSD - Part 2: Termina is NOT a Parallel World, Technically

This is a continuation of my last post so if you’re seeing this and haven’t read it, go here.

This is the part where I somewhat smoothly segue into Majora’s Mask. Link, lonely and filled with unprocessed trauma, leaves Hyrule in search of Navi. According to most sources (which take from Hyrule Historia probably? don’t quote me on it), Link falls down a hole into Termina, a parallel world to Hyrule, that contains many familiar looking denizens of Hyrule, but playing different roles. And well, if you probably guessed by the title, I have a rather different interpretation.

Okay, so in a nutshell my theory is that Termina is in fact all a dream, kind of like Koholint Island. Except the one dreaming up this world isn’t some deity like the Giants or Skull Kid or the Moon. It’s Link.

(big explainey hoo hah below)

Evidence 1: Link begins the game sleeping. Yes, I know literally every Zelda game begins this way and it’s a whole tradition thing. I am beginning with the weakest points first and working my way up to the strong ones. We’ll get there.

Evidence 2: The reuse of character and environment models from Ocarina of Time. The literal IRL reason for this is of course the game famously being given only one year of production time, which meant that the most practical method was to reuse as much material from MM’s predecessor as possible (eg. Romani Ranch sign is the Kakariko Village sign, and still says Kakariko Village on it). It seems like a rather offhand afterthought for Nintendo to chalk it all up to “oh its just a parallel world like Link to the Past or something. But think of it like this; when we dream, we often see familiar people from throughout our lives put in strange and unexpected situations, like that irritable old farmhand you hated so much is now a depressed circus master for some reason. Dreams don’t make sense. Things you know will mix with other strange inexplicable things, fleeting thoughts in your mind, all roughly tied together by whatever emotions you had been feeling when you went to bed. Malon is split into two people, Romani and Cremia, her older and younger self. This might reflect how Link feels about Malon, that she changed so much in those 7 years that she’s like a different person entirely, that it’s hard for him to process that they are the same, because the change was so shockingly sudden for him.

Evidence 3: Gorons in the snow, Gerudo by the sea. Yes, I know that sounds a lot like good evidence for a parallel world (that’s why the idea is widely accepted in the first place, it has merit), but it also works in as dream world evidence too. As a child, my family was obsessed with skiing. We would go to the same mountain every winter, and we would stay at the same lodge. It almost became like a second home for me. So much so, that one night I dreamed that my house had been replaced by the lodge, so it wasn’t on a snow-capped mountain, but in a bushy Australian suburb. Okay that kinda got off subject but I’m bad at conclusions so in summary Dreams Just Be Like That (tm). You get what I’m saying right? No? Sorry, let’s just move on.

Evidence 4: The Milk Bar. AKA my favourite location in the game! It’s often overlooked as the “haha funny they couldn’t put alcohol in kids game so its kiddy milk hee hee”, but it is actually a strong thematic pillar of Majora’s Mask. As I mentioned in Part 1, if you put a 9 year old in a 16 year old’s body and call him an adult before ripping that all away is probably going to leave the kid with an identity crisis. What is a mature place open at late hours when children are sleeping? A bar. What is a drink associated with the young, being produced for the purpose of helping children grow? Milk. No please don’t go I swear there’s more to this, stay with me. In order to gain access to the bar, Link must prove he is mature enough by wearing a mask, a disguise, like Adult Link is to Young Link. Being adult isn’t earned through years of natural living experience and mental development, it’s a thing you are given by adults to just BE when they deem you worthy, at least from how Link sees it. So that is the amalgamation of dream thoughts that is the Milk Bar. Is it mature? Is it childish? What is the line between the two? Is there one? It’s the culmination of his anxieties and confusions that he doesn’t know how to express. Another, smaller expression of this anxiety is the Clock Town Guards. When Link is a Deku, the guards say they don’t allow children outside the gates. When Link turns back however, the guard goes to stop him because he looks too young, but sees that he has a sword, and lets him pass. Why the sword? Well, in one way this is a callback to Kokiri Forest, where Mido doesn’t let Link see the Deku Tree until he has a sword. But also, what is the item that lets Link travel through time and become an adult in OOT? The Master Sword. Link seems to believe that adulthood is measured by the things you have, physical markers of maturity, which is how lots of children see adulthood. You’re an adult if you can drink, if you’re tall, if you’re married, if you have a house, a car etc. But in reality this isn’t how it works. Heck, I’m technically an adult but I sure as hell don’t feel like one, because I know I still have things to learn about responsibility, patience and all the other things, that can only come with time, which is the moral conclusion of OOT, but clearly Link missed the memo. Don’t get me wrong, there are some indicators to show he’s grown a bit. He can ride Epona, use the bow, do flips like some kind of acrobat etc. But those strange and confused feelings linger, and manifest in the young boy’s dreams.

Evidence 5: The four transformation masks. The four masks represent different aspects of Link’s self, and the way he grew and changed in OOT. Deku Scrub the Innocent, Goron the Confident, Zora the Mature and Fierce Deity the Hero. Link began only knowing the Kokiri Forest, and nothing of the world outside. As he set out on his journey, he grew more confident in his skills and defeated greater foes. When evil took over, he learned from his fatal mistake and worked to right it. And when it was finally time to face the greatest threat, he was ready, with all the heart pieces, bottles full of fairies, Biggoron Sword in hand. At that moment he struck the final blow he probably felt like the strong and unstoppable hero everyone in Hyrule told him he needed to be. And that feeling of pure uncompromising strength, with the whole world behind him, manifested in the Fierce Deity. Fierce Deity is much taller than Adult Link, and packs so much of a punch that he can beat Majora without batting an eye, like some overpowered Super Saiyan. It reminds me a lot of Undertale, with young Asriel becoming what he imagines to be an all-powerful godlike being, like something you’d see as a children’s drawing. Fierce Deity gives off those vibes, like “he has a HUGE SWORD that SHOOTS BEAMS OF LIGHT and he’s 8 FOOT TALL and CAN KILL ENEMIES IN A SINGLE BLOW!!” Before the final battle on the moon, when Majora gives you the mask, he childishly asks if you want to play a game of good guys and bad guys. And the good guy always wins, no matter what. Fierce Deity makes the final boss a cakewalk, but its supposed to.

Evidence 6: Anju and Kafei. Short one, because it falls a lot into everything else I’ve said regarding childhood vs adulthood. Kafei is effectively a switcheroo of what happened to Link in OOT. An adult shrunk back to childhood, uncomfortable in his new body and looking for a way to fix everything. He’s a reflection of how Link now kinda feels like an adult in a child’s body, because he had started to be used to being called an adult.

Evidence 7: The Moon. I haven’t super touched on the main meat of the game yet, so here it is. The moon and the 3 day mechanic is an allegory for constant mounting pressure, that builds and builds, never ceasing, because the world is in danger, and there’s only one person who has been chosen to save it. I’ve always been interested in the Chosen One narrative, and how different media explore the idea of the world’s very existence being pushed onto one person. How at the end of it all, they can never be the same again after all they’ve gone through. When you’re somehow expected to hold up the Moon itself single-handed, and your life and everything you care about suffers because you’re putting everyone else before yourself. That feeling of complete loneliness under a crushing weight, and although other characters may come to help you, in the end its still all down to you, and you never had a choice in any of it, as all the decisions were made by someone else. You must do what they tell you. Believe in yourself, believe...

Evidence 8: Skull Kid. The story goes that long ago in Termina, the Skull Kid and the Giants played together, until one day, the Giants left, leaving the Skull Kid alone and heartbroken, with nobody to turn to. As life moves on, things may change, and people always come and go from your life. Your friend might move overseas, or stop texting you, or you might fall out of friendship after an awkward event from which you could never recover (no, these have totally not all happened to me, shut up i’m fine), or your fairy companion might just disappear without so much as a goodbye after their task is complete. And it feels like you didn’t matter at all. That they never really cared about you, and you’re as easy to drop and move on from as a child’s toy. You might get angry, and want to shut them out, and give them a taste of their own medicine. Majora’s Mask teaches you that this isn’t the case. Life is ever changing, but you will always have the memories of times with your friends, and a chance to make more with new friends, like a sassy talkative fairy sprite and her shy brother or a child made of wood who wants to destroy the world. Friends come from unlikely places, so accept that change will happen and hope that wherever the people you knew are, they’re okay. You’re thinking about them, so they might be thinking about you too. And who knows? Life is unpredictable. They might just come back one day, and it’ll be like they were never gone.

Evidence 9 (the final one, I promise): The Song of Healing. At the end of all things, after losing ones you love, connections to family and friends, memories of things long past... you need time to heal. Link’s journey through Termina is a constant gauntlet of running into his own past traumas, forced to relive them again, and again, and again. But sometimes you should take a deep breath, gather your thoughts, and take time to heal. Although it can be important to confront your fears and learn to surpass them, it is exhausting, and you can end up more emotionally broken than when you started. The three masks all had regrets of powerlessness; unable to protect your community, your loved ones, or even yourself. Troubles you’ve gone through that keep plaguing your mind, and you’re wondering if you’ve done enough, seeking answers where none can be found. And the best thing you can do... is accept and move on. Be kind to yourself, and give yourself time to heal. Link’s way of processing his grief and trauma is to create an entire hellscape world in his own head, but not everyone processes it the same way. Sometimes you feel like you need to busy yourself, or listen to soothing music, or talk to people you trust, or spend copious amounts of money, or make some angst art, or cuddle your plush toys until their stuffing squeezes out. Sometimes life hits you in the face and you want to blame yourself for standing in the firing line, but it’s not your fault. It’s okay to feel however you feel, whether you’re drenched in a pool of tears or you just feel numb, it’s okay and natural. You’re okay. You’re here.

Okay so it got kinda personal at the end there but I hope it was informative, and made you think a little bit differently about Majora’s Mask and Ocarina of Time. You probably want to go back and play them now. Me too.

So was this all just an excuse for me to gush about how cool Majora’s Mask is? Hell fucking yes it was. Congratulations for making it through my monstrous ramblings, you get the secret prize of looking at my weird art on my DA. Here you go. Have a nice day, Zelda Nerds.

[yanara126-writing]

Godlike

Sesshomaru thinks about his past, his motivations and his future.

A discription of his relationships with his family mostly. There's no real story, just him moping on a cliff basically.

Read here or on Ao3 (~3k)

The song segments come from a song called The Godlike Song from Alexx Calise. 

Comments always welcome! Enjoy! :)

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The wind blew quietly through the trees as he stood on a cliff, looking off into the distance. He had left Rin and Jaken somewhere in the forest to have some time alone and think. Normally, he enjoyed Rin’s happy babbling and would simply blend out Jaken’s voice, if he got too annoying, but today he needed the silence.

They had passed through a human village a few hours ago, to get Rin a new Kimono. That in itself was nothing unusual, but this time something had been different…

Rin ran happily around, admiring the beautiful Kimonos that were shown at the market, while Sesshomaru stood to the side, watching her and enduring the stares the humans gave him. Since he knew said stares were not hateful, he ignored them.

He had been careful to choose a village that tolerated demons at least to a minimum. Certainly not for his sake, but for Rin’s. He did not want her to be judged because she travelled with a youkai. Besides, why put up with the annoyance of a hostile village if he could easily avoid it?

With the stares usually came whispers too and he wasn’t disappointed this time either. It was ridiculous how bad the human hearing had to be if they seriously thought he could not hear them.

„Do you know who that is? “

„Those clothes look really expensive; do you think he could be some sort of royal? “

„Look at those features, almost godlike! “

Godlike… A word he had always associated with his father. Yes, that was what his father had been for him as a child, a god. Never would he have thought of himself in that way.

His father… The truth was, he had admired his father, and still did. He had almost worshiped him as a child. Until his father had chosen a human mate. At first, he hadn’t minded too much, had dismissed it as temporary phase. But then his father had left him alone for always longer times until he had spent more time with her than with his son.

He had tried to get his father’s attention back by trying to be the perfect heir his mother had always told him he had to be. He had trained and had become even better than his tutors. He had surpassed everyone’s expectations and had been sure that the next time his father came home he would have to notice.

But when his father had finally arrived, all he would talk about was that the human had gotten pregnant. He hadn’t even noticed his progress. He would never admit it, but that reaction had hurt, and badly. In that moment, he had decided, that if he wanted to be perfect for his father he would need to never let something like that get to him ever again. And he had been successful, nobody had ever noticed anything.

No, that wasn’t true, his father had obviously noticed something, not the reason for the slight change, but at least the change itself.

That last conversation, it had hurt even more than the one before. The disappointment in his father’s voice, a disappointment he hadn’t understood the reason of. Had he not become everything his father had wanted him to be? He was strong and completely in control, yet he would always try to be better and stronger, to one day be worthy to lead his father’s kingdom. And what should “someone to protect” mean? It would only be a weakness to have to protect someone, wouldn’t it?

And why had his father obviously preferred the Hanyou over him? The child hadn’t even been born yet, so why would he fly to what would certainly be his death, just for it?

He hadn’t tried to stop his father, for he had been sure, that he would reconsider before it was too late. He had never thought that his father would go that far, that his father would actually… leave him alone. He had obviously been wrong. A feeling he had gotten to know very well in the years following his father’s death.

One love quashed another

If there ever was a battle

Only to discover that my heart became a matter

He was strong, had already been back then. More than anyone would have expected a child to be. Still, he hadn’t been even remotely close to being able to handle the chaos that had erupted after his father had died. He had only been a child and had already inherited an enormous empire. Naturally, many demons had tried to kill him and claim the territory as their own. They had come after him immediately after word had spread that the great lord of the western lands was dead. The only choice he had had to survive was to run. The memory made him want to shake with anger, but he suppressed it, just like he always had. Yes, he had run. That was a fact he couldn’t change anymore.

There was a slight twitch around his eyes, a movement so subtle only Rin could have been able to even notice, much less correctly interpret it. She was surprisingly observant for a child her age.

Of course he had been too, he had needed to be to survive, when he had been only a little older than her. Those first few years after his father’s death… He might have called them painful, had he actually ever talked about them. His mother had pretty much ignored his situation. Not that he had expected much, but he had thought she would at least let him remain in her approximate surroundings. Instead she had moved to her own family’s castle and told him to fend for himself.

A cloud drifted slowly over sky and covered the moon.

Another misjudgement on his part. The next had been, that he had expected, well not expected really, but at least hoped in some way to find some respite with his father’s human. It had taken him a few weeks to get out of the immediate danger zone and get rid of the demons that had noticed him flee the massacre in front of what had once been his home. When he had managed to either lose them somewhere or kill them, he had gone to the only place he had been able think of that could at least have been a place to rest, even if it would never have been truly safe. As soon as the woman had seen him, she had gasped fearfully, backed up against wall and turned around, so he couldn’t get to the bundle in her arms.

Now, years later, and as kind of parent of his own, he could understand her reaction. He had been covered in blood, some of it his own, some of it not. He must have been really a sight to behold, it was only natural that her first reaction had been to defend her child. But at that time, when he had been barely a teenager and completely exhausted and in pain, both physically and mentally, it had been just another betrayal.

After that he had not tried to get help again. He had just run, fought and tried to stay alive. Slowly the attacks became fewer until they had mostly stopped, and he had finally been able to breathe again.

And being the best, it always gets the best of me

One moment you’re on top and then the next you’re on your knees

He had thought that would be the end of it. The power vacuum had been filled, mostly with petty warlords, that had somehow managed to get control over a few villages. A part of the kingdom still belonged to his mother, not because she actively ruled, but she was the most powerful youkai in the area and the others simply tried to avoid her. A few tribes that had been loyal to his father by choice had transferred their loyalty to him, which had given him a sort of safe haven and the hope that he could retake his father’s lands.

What he had not counted on, was that with the immediate threat to his life gone, he had finally had the time to process all the things that had happened. His father’s sacrifice, his mother’s abandonment, his almost step mother’s denial and the fact that he had almost died multiple times. It had taken another two weeks, but eventually he had broken down in some forest and had sobbed through the night.

Somewhere in the distance he could hear a wolf’s howl. It was far enough away to not bother him yet, but he would have to return to the others soon, Rin would be scared.

After his little episode, he hadn’t been able to stay in the village anymore and had started his journey to get back his father’s lands. Before that he had planned to find Tetsusaiga, while he had grown considerably stronger over the course of his bloody adventure, it would have been an immense help.

Nothing feels right

On the inside

I could heal my wounds if I was godlike

Well, if he was honest with himself, that plan had already been useless when he had lost his arm, all the other times he had tried to get it were simply out of spite. That and pride, he simply hadn’t been able to accept that his father had made the sword unusable for him. Really, he still couldn’t, but there were only so many times someone could get their ass handed to them and still come back for more.

His left hand… Sometimes he was very thankful for his long sleeves, this way no one could see when his stump twitched, because he tried to use a limb that was no longer there. It was pathetic, and he knew it. He deserved it though, for letting the half breed get the better of him.

A lesser man might have scoffed or scowled at the thought or at the very least smiled bitterly, not so Sesshomaru. Nothing about his face or body posture suggested how much it still hurt him. The godlike comment became more and more ridiculous each second.

Though he was very much aware of his own limits now and could without a doubt say he was not at the level of a god, at least not yet, he also started to doubt the pedestal he had put his father on, was truly deserved. But in the end, it didn’t matter anyway. He would never get the chance to see him again and possibly revaluate his opinion. Maybe it was better that way. He had a goal to reach, he would surpass his father and become the strongest Daiyoukai the world had ever seen. Everything else came second.

That was how it was supposed to be. He had no need for petty emotions like hurt, doubt or, gods forbid, sympathy. The only emotion that could prove useful was anger. That system had worked fairly well for most of the time. He had been able to establish quite the reputation for himself as the cold-hearted killer he needed to be to prove himself worthy of being called his father’s son.

He ignored the twinge in his heart when he thought about how even his father’s old friends whom he had grown up with, now feared him.

Patience is no virtue ever worth time waiting for

For every moment spent you always close another door

Not only had they readily given up on him, they had not even found it worth it to tell Inuyasha anything else than the fact that he was dangerous. Not that he had wanted them to or had done anything to change that, but still… somehow, he had expected more.

A redundant thought, one could not expect those fools to see beyond their own fear anymore than he could be expected to suddenly start meowing.

Another howl sounded over the tree tops, this time a lot closer.

He should really get going.

He turned around and slowly walked away from the cliff into the forest, still deeply in thought.

Inuyasha… the source of a lot of his confusion. He had first met his half brother when he had only been a little boy. For some reason he had felt compelled to see the little brat his father had given his life for. They had seen each other and watched, the smaller one of them with a ball in his hands and eyes wide with awe, the older one completely composed. After that he had returned again and again without ever knowing why.

Then the boys mother had died and for some reason the whelp had thought himself entitled to something from him. How ridiculous. He had had his problems to solve even without a weak half-blood constantly running behind him. And even if he had had the time and resources, why should he take care of the little pest that had ruined his life? Just because he had been curious to see his father’s biggest mistake and had found himself unable to ignore it didn’t mean he held any affection for it, right? Of course, what a silly thought. He would have to get better control over himself again.

The next time he had seen the boy had been when he had come for Tetsusaiga.

He walked the way back. He was in no hurry. The wolves would probably not even come close to their encampment, so he was really only needed to provide Rin some comfort should she need it, Jaken would be able to handle some low life Youkai or animal. Even if some kind of threat to his pack suddenly appeared, he could be there in seconds if necessary. He could already hear Jaken screaming at Rin again, something about not eating mushrooms. He would have to make sure to hit him with a stone again when he was back.

Ah yes, his throwing skills. Another memory gone bitter with time. Throwing and kicking stones with precision had been the first thing his father had ever taught him. At his own demand, after all, he hadn’t wanted to only fetch when they were playing. Of course, that skill had become useless now. He was unlikely to be able to kill any of his opponents with stones and Rin did not exactly fall into the category of children who would enjoy playing fetch. Well, it wasn’t completely useless. Actually it was very useful for shutting Jaken up.

And being the best, it always gets the best of me

One moment you’re on top and then the next you’re on your knees

As annoying as the toad demon was, it was also refreshing to have someone around who spoke his mind and still knew how to take a hint and shut up. Even if he needed to be given the hint with a certain amount of force behind it. He had enough discipline to follow orders and not seriously question them, which was a respectable trait. Discipline had played an exceptionally important part of his own childhood. Even before his own resolution of self betterment, he had been raised to be a warrior, calculating and disciplined, and to never act rashly or impulsively.

Unlike the Hanyou whelp, who seemed to be completely incapable of ever using his brain. Really, had his mother even tried to raise him properly? He would never understand what his father had seen in the mortal. He had only really seen her once, the night of his escape. That night he hadn’t really thought about her and her behaviour, he had just been angry and hurt.

With age understanding had come and a question had wormed its way into his mind. Had the woman even known about his existence? From the way his father had talked about her, he wouldn’t have thought her to be likely to turn away a child, much less the child of her lover, no matter how horrific their attire. She hadn’t even looked twice at him, had just assumed his hostile intentions. That only allowed two possible conclusions, assuming he was correct in his deduction about her character. Either his father had told her about him as an automatic threat to her life, or he hadn’t told her about him at all. He wasn’t sure which option hurt more.

Nothing feels right

Nothing feels right

Everything’s so strange

Something’s gotta change

“Lord Sesshomaru, you’re back!” He stopped walking when he felt something enthusiastically clutch his right leg.

“I was worried, because you looked so sad when you left!”

“Rin! How dare you imply something like that! You should really show our Lord some respect! You clearly don’t understand…!”

“Jaken?”

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Shut up.”

“Yes, my Lord…” The imp almost seemed to shrink under his stare. It was always entertaining to see that.

“Lord Sesshomaru, you’re not sad anymore, are you?” She actually looked concerned and he had no idea how to answer her question. He wasn’t sad per se, but he was… unbalanced. Well, he did not need to explain himself and there was no point in upsetting her further with trying.

“No, Rin”

“Good!” She had such a sweet and innocent smile. Sometimes he wondered how he himself would have looked with such a smile. Though he most certainly wouldn’t have run around picking flowers and making flower crowns as his ward liked to do. But enough useless contemplation, he had a job to do.

“We will continue.”

“Yes, Lord Sesshomaru!” How odd, she was still smiling, even while getting Ah-Un and starting another journey she did not know the end of. And there would be an end, even if she still wanted to follow him after he beat Naraku. At some point she would want to settle down and have a family with someone. He already knew he would make sure she wouldn’t need miss anything and of course he would be very careful whom he would allow to court her. She would probably have children at some point, maybe even grandchildren, and sometime later she would die. What a strange feeling to know that. Would he take care of her children even after her death? Binding himself to a human family like that seemed like a bad idea, but for some reason he couldn’t imagine not doing it.

But why did he even care? Why did he feel the need to contemplate these things? Just because of the uneducated comment of a human? How low must he have sunken for something like that to unsettle him so much.

No matter, what had already happened was unchangeable and the future would become clear in due time. Until then he would focus on what he knew he needed to do and not waste valuable time on the past or possible.

And if he took care to spend a little more time with Rin from then on, was a little less angry at Inuyasha when they met and lost a little bit of awe for his father, then there was no one who would ever dare to point it out.

[undertalethingies]

Self Indulgent Self Insert Fanfic, Part One

I am sitting in my room, not doing much of anything, (as per usual) when I look up and notice that my mirror has apparently transformed into a solid wall of inky darkness as I’ve been spacing out.

And well- it’s not like I can not poke it, right? There’s a high chance I’ll seriously regret it, if my life has become the isekai it appears to be, but there’s a 100% chance I’ll regret it forever if I don’t touch it, you know?

Everyone always assumes I’m risk averse, that I like to play it safe, but the truth of the matter is I’ve just never found something I really want to take a risk with.

So, I push myself out of bed with a hand and go grab my shoes, because there’s no way in hell I’m touching something that might be a portal with no shoes on. Thankfully, I’m actually dressed for once, rather than being in my bathrobe like usual. 

Once I’ve got my shoes on, I grab my coat from where it hangs by my dresser and walk straight into what used to be my mirror. I hope my parents aren’t too worried by my disappearance. Maybe I’ll be lucky and this will be the kind of isekai that retroactively erases me from existence? That would be kind of nice, to exist without tethers.

The portal (because that’s what it is, I’m pretty sure) feels cool, but not unpleasantly so. Like when you first put on a fleece sweater and it takes a moment to warm up.

If this were a stereotypical isekai story, things would quickly become very unpleasant in this dark void, and some godlike being would reach out to grant me power beyond my wildest imaginings.

I’ve never been one to cave to expectations, though. Not even my own.

The darkness remains cool and comforting, and I continue walking forward because there’s no chance I’m going to turn back now, with so much possibility awaiting me if I only continue long enough.

Eventually, I feel as if I’ve passed some threshold, and something definably changes within me. Can’t say what, though. I’ve always kinda sucked at interpreting what my body is trying to tell me, so I’ll probably have to figure it out on my own.

At some point the darkness and walking grows boring, and so I do what I often do when bored, and curl up to go to sleep. This place isn’t cold enough for me to need a blanket, and I’ve got my coat with me anyway, so I’m fine. Sleeping on hard surfaces isn’t unpleasant, in my opinion, merely a bit annoying, since if you pick the wrong position you’ll inevitably wake up sore.

As always, consciousness takes a while to fade, so I occupy myself with grand imaginings about all the wonderful (and terrible, I’ve got anxiety okay, I can’t help it) things that might await me.

==

When I wake, it’s immediately obvious that something is different. There’s light now, for one, and for two I can feel something soft and organic beneath me. Judging by smell alone… Flowers? Waking up on a bed of flowers in a lit room… Well, I’ve always wished I could live in Undertale, if only so I could chew out the characters for bottling up their feelings so damn much. Hey, maybe if I’m lucky, that one headcanon I have about Sans secretly being a teenager will be right and I’ll be able to flirt with him without it being creepy.

Oh come on, like everyone attracted to dudes and not overly hung up about species concerns doesn’t want to kiss that guy, are you kidding me? Plus, I love puns and I’m depressed, surely we’ll get along.

Oh boy, I’m definitely going to die, huh? Thank fuck for my high pain tolerance and ridiculous resistance to trauma, am I right?

Finally, I open my eyes, because I like to wake up slow and I see no reason to alter my existing routine simply because I’ve apparently been yeeted into my favorite video game. Hey, speaking of favorite video games, will I get to visit Hollow Knight next? No, wait, that would probably suck, wouldn’t it. Ah, well.

The cave is just as beautiful as I always imagined it would be. Though it looked lovely in the game art, there’s truly nothing that can compare to seeing the sight in person, those marble pillars in a half circle around me, that single spot of sunlight in the ceiling far (far, far) above. Not to mention the lovely flowers I’m laying on at this very moment and- there’s a dead body under me, isn’t there. Is Chara going to show up, or am I left to be alone in my head?

Though their narration doesn’t actually start until you meet Flowey, in the game, so I suppose I’ll just have to wait and see.

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

Which human soul am I taking the place of right now? Because I read a fic once where the protagonist wasn’t the seventh, even if it was a fakeout, and I very much do not want to be saddled with the fate of those poor bastards.

Though, maybe I’d be able to talk my way out? There’s no one who’d call me diplomatic, for sure, but I’m pretty great at knowing exactly where to aim an insult to utterly break someone’s spirit. (Unusual skill, I’m aware, but in my defense I was bullied growing up)(I say “growing up” like I’m not still doing it, like I’m not fourteen and trapped in a world where it’s an accepted fact that the protagonist will die, and several times over, too)

My first order of business is Flowey, before I can take the time to freak out, to hold myself tight and weather the sheer panic that Toto, I am not in Kansas anymore.

I get up. I give a last fond look to the beautiful cave I’ve “fallen” into, and I walk to the next room, hoping all the while that I’m not signing my own death sentence.

Once I’m a few feet in, there he is, in all his fucking glory.

Flowey the flower, the soulless remnant of prince Asriel Dreemurr, former hope of the underground, possibly still holder of the ability to control time itself.

Yeah, I’m definitely going to mess with him. Self preservation is for losers.

“You’re a flower with a face,” I say before he can start with his usual greeting. I have it memorized anyway, so it’s not like I’m missing out on anything.

He makes his T-T face, so I know this isn’t how he thought this would go. 

“Wow, human! What gave you that impression?” Ooh, sassy. Literally his only positive trait.

“Well I have eyes, see,” I was planning  to ask him probing questions, but honestly this is just as good. His expression doesn’t change as he says his next sentence, nor does his ever cheery tone, (and holy fuck his voice is just as vaguely creepy as I’d imagined, all that childlike innocence paired with the fact that he’s a mass murderer)

“Well howdy, human with eyes! I’m Flowey, flowey the flower!” He says. I don’t interject.

“You’re clearly new to the underground, and it looks like I’m the only one around to show you how things work around here! Are you ready?” 

…

“I’m really not, to be honest. I’ve got no idea what’s going on,” So my plan here, basically, is to stall until Toriel gets here. Mostly because I’m hoping that if he doesn’t get the chance to do his betrayal, he’ll keep pretending to be nice, which will be hilarious since I’ll know he’s faking the whole time.

Admittedly, this significantly increases the likelihood that Toriel won’t come to save me when he inevitably finds a secluded place to murder me, but if I think too hard about the long term right now I’m going to scream, so.

“Well you see, human, you’ve fallen into the underground, a land inhabited by monsters! Don’t worry though, we’re quite nice,” Oh right, conversation. I wonder how much info I can get out of him…

“What’s a monster? Like, I know what it means on the surface, but that definition is pretty vague, and I don’t want to be accidentally racist,” 

His face pops back to the usual smile. (Side note: his face looks like it was drawn on with sharpie and it’s totally messing me up)

“A monster is a being made of magic!” Ok, that’s… a bit vague, but not really inaccurate. I guess he doesn’t want to get into the science, which is a damn shame, since he probably knows it backwards and forwards due to all his reset shenanigans.

“Woah, cool. Magic is real? How does it work without breaking thermodynamics?” Finally, the question I’ve always wanted to ask. If energy can’t be created, how the fuck does Toriel shoot fireballs from her hands? What is she drawing on, what is the fire burning, how hot is it, how does it keep being on fire, etc. etc. repeat for every magical display in the game.

“Well, a lot of it isn’t super understood. Scientists have mostly been pinning it on ‘dark energy’ like they do with every other phenomenon they don’t totally understand,” I wonder why he’s so willingly entertaining my time wasting antics. I know, in game, he didn’t realize he’d lost control over the timeline until after his first talk with Frisk, so maybe he’s just waiting it out to see where it goes? And then of course he must be planning other things to do with me before he takes my soul and goes to the surface…

“God, I hate dark energy in science. I know they just call it that because not much is known about it, but I’m thirsty for knowledge, you know?” Actually ‘thirsty for knowledge’ describes my mood like 90% of the time. Huh, actually, I have that in common with Flowey, right? Even if his knowledge thirst is just due to boredom.

“Hey, human, me too! Learning new things is great!” There’s a loaded sentence if i’ve ever heard one. When was the last time he learned something new? He’s supposedly read every book in the underground, but how much information from that did he actually retain?

“Isn’t it? It’s why I love Youtube so much. Free information for anyone who cares to make a few clicks!” Wait, he probably doesn’t know what Youtube is, actually.

“What’s Youtube?” He asks, cocking his head.

“It’s a service where you can upload videos or watch videos other people have uploaded,” Not the most nuanced explanation, but it’ll do for now. Before Flowey has a chance to respond, a fireball manifests next to him. 

I don’t smile because I’m pretending to be shocked, but I’m laughing my ass off on the inside. The face he makes is even more ridiculous in person.

Enter Toriel, queen of the monsters, mother of no living children.

[rebeltheanomaly]

Roughdraft/Notes on Grieftale Act 1 Part 3

Papyrus turns around and spots you. "AH! HUMAN! DON'T WORRY ABOUT THE SPIKES, THEY'LL GO DOWN WHEN YOU SOLVE MY PUZZLE!" he grumbles to himself "THAT'S THE ONLY WAY I CAN GET PEOPLE TO SOLVE THEM" then he perks up "REALLY? YOU HAVE A PUZZLE? HAVE I FINALLY MET SOMEONE AS PASSIONATE AS ME?" *Grins* The manufacturer doesn't need it, the buyer doesn't want it, and the user doesn't know he's using it. What is it? "OH! I KNOW THIS ONE! SANS TOLD IT TO ME WHEN HE WAS FEELING MORE LAZY THAN USUAL! IT'S A TOMB! *his grin falters a tiny bit, just to the point that it looks like a condescending smirk* Here's another one, would you rather know the date or cause of your death?* "HMM I DON'T KNOW THIS ONE..." He bends over and rubs his chin and he tries to think. 

*Asks another disturbing question* Would you rather murder 3 innocent children or 3 of your closest friends? "I- I WOULD NEVER MURDER ANYONE! THE ANSWER IS NO ONE!" Papyrus cries. "THERE'S ALWAYS ANOTHER WAY! *smile falters, but is internally laughing like a maniac at what is in his eyes, a "Pathetically Naive Idiotic Child who doesn't see the world for what it is", he makes his face one of concern to mask his true intentions* Oh, i'm sorry... I just... Tend to dwell on those things.... Being through what i've been through will do that to you.. Papyrus looks concerned... then perks up. "HERE! SOLVE MY PUZZLE! IT WILL MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER! THEN WHEN THE SPIKES ARE DOWN I CAN GIVE YOU A BIG HUG!!" Ok...*looks around at the puzzle, strategizing, then completing it with ease* "YAY! YOU'RE SO GOOD AT PUZZLES!!" He exclaims, pulling you into a hug. "YOU MUST CARE ABOUT PUZZLES LIKE ME! YOU'LL LIKE NEXT NEXT ONE EVEN MORE!!" He runs off, even floating off the ground, and you see sans a little up ahead, waiting for you apprehensively *Sans senses the demon still in control, and can feel it's aura, it's nothing like Chara or any other fiend he's had to deal with....* Sans feels for the knife in his pocket, gripping it tightly. he stares wearily at you but doesn't make a move, since his brother is still alright. "Hey kid... about what you were trying to do earlier..." he can't seem to bring himself to make eye contact. "nevermind. good job on the puzzle. go on, my brother is waiting for you. just... don't try anything you might regret, okay?" *Grins* The other kid will regret.... *he then walks off* sans's eyes go dark and he tenses, holding himself back. "Calm down sans." he thinks to himself. "They haven't done anything yet. You made a PROMISE." *He runs along, tripping on an icecap "hey, watch the hat!" icecap snaps. "i mean, what hat? i don't have a hat." *grins and runs off with his hat, leading him on a chase* "H-hey! i need that to look cool!" i cries, chasing you up the hill *grins evilly* Have it your way then... *throws it and... basically cuts his head off, like that one guy from Mortal Kombat...... FATALITY!! he turns to dust, his body first, then his head with a shocked expression that says "the ironyyyy" you're now at the top of the hill, and you can see that to safely cross the ice you need to solve another puzzle *goes on, sees the nice cream guy's stall* He looks over at you enthusiastically. "Hey there! Care for some nice cream? It's the frozen treat that warms your heart. I started my own business! See-- every nice cream has a nice message inside the wrapping!" he pulls one out and offers it to you *the gelato suddenly melts and pools at his feet, way more then what's possible, to the point that he's standing in a puddle of it. Suddenly, a giant hand comes out of the puddle and crushes NCR (Fallout joke) guy in it's fists. Lucian looks upon the gorified rabbit creature and sniggers* Guess it's not just revenge that's best served cold... (Insert CSI "Yeaaaahhh!" here) nice cream guy gurgles, his blood turning to dust. he looks down at you with tears in his eyes as his head disappears. You see a fork in the path, the right leading down a hill where you can see sans standing at the bottom, not noticing you. L:*grins, then grimaces, he felt an unpleasant sensation as his skin touched a certain kind of metal, which is picked up by one of Alphys's cameras.... (FORESHADOWING HIS WEAKNESS) He growls and takes whichever path leads to a dead end, scowling to Sans's amusement, though he doesn't know the true extent of his evil yet, he at least knows it's taking control of the kid's body, and that's never a good sign* you find another door to the ruins, with mushrooms in the front. on your way out you find a deer-looking creature, adorned to his dismay with christmas decorations *Ignores it at first, he then takes a vial of blood out of his pocket and rubs it on the burn, soothing it* the deer notices and grimaces (or is that just its face) "that's disgusting." it says. Sans looks over to you, curious. "SANS WHY ARE YOU NEVER WHERE I NEED YOU TO BE" you hear from up the hill. Sans looks up and disappears, leaving you with the deer. (Grins and splashes the rest of the bottle in the deer's face) The deer groans in disgust, rubbing their face in the snow *He finds the decorations become incredibly heavy* the deer is unable to lift their head from the snow, they start to suffocate and struggle, kicking wildly until they run out of breath and energy T^T (The child's leg suddenly turns into a talon as it crushes the Deer's head in with it, grinning) It's so annoying i can only show parts of my true form while i'm stuck in this hideous body... *His leg changes back* But atleast i'm making good progress.. you peer into the cracks in the walls and spot eyes, upon further inspection an entire family of deer are stuck in the ruins, they watch with bloodshot eyes, seeing through you, as if they've stared outside for so long they've lost touch with reality *Looks at them, kinda liking their appearance* Hehe.. *pulls out his Bladed gloves he got from the box, grinning madly* *He lunges at them, ripping one clean in half* (Meanwhile, Alphys discovers an archive on the last creature that had a Crimson soul) Computer: A soul of true evil, those who possess this soul come to spread suffering, madness, chaos and misery. They gain incredible power, and if they manage to kill everything that opposes them they can even destroy the world and remake in their own twisted image. The last one with a Crimson soul comes from prehistoric accounts, when monsters were in their dark ages, for humans hadn't yet came into existence. The Crimson Devil caused several disasters and countless fatalities that happened before earth’s continents were separated. *She sees truly terrifying images, which seem to be artist's interpretations of the event... she has too warn them* Lab:*Alphys's Lab A.I. responds to the words from the computer* So, is it ok to start panicking? "oh my g-goodness, o-oh my!" she gasps, watching the (dog army?) get ripped limb from limb. "this... this is what the files were talking about! i h-have to warn everyone!" she fumbles with her phone, dialing undyne or asgore or anybody that could help. Lab A.I.: Wait.. *rewinds it a little bit, seeing Lucian burn himself on that metal* Do you see that? "Th-this could change everything! I c-can save everyone! oh my gosh, I have to investigate!!" Lab:*scans it* Platinum... Maybe you should look at the archives for the Platinum soul… She scurries to the opposite wall (not visible in the game), which is lined with shelves covered in books. She begins scanning for a book relating to human souls or platinum. The Crimson, unyielding Malice, The Charcoal, Unending despair, and the Platinum, Undying hope... The Crimson will rise and bring utter cataclysm to the world, having learned from it's past mistakes, it will target the one who is destined for the weapon that last took its power. After taking the the body, it will suppress the soul until it is weakened enough to take the body of them, then will challenge the most powerful being that it hasn't yet destroyed, _S__E_ __E___R All will seem hopeless, until the Platinum, along with the Crimson's victims, will all empower the being, now godlike. Even for all the power it has gained, it will fall back to lick its wounds, but not before inflicting the Platinum with an utterly despairing melady The Platinum will turn Charcoal, and even though most of the damage has been reversed, the destined one's family will still be dead by their hand. They will only be saved when the following has been achieved: "The Angel will fall upon belief he is a demon His newfound comrades will cause him to rediscover meaning in his life A black weight will lift on his shining heart And so the new age will begin" i’ll call undyne and we can both support the charcoal soul so it can become platinum again! Lab: Are you really willing to take that chance? Alphys, this isn't some Anime you watch, this is real life, i mean that Prophecy could be only partially true, i mean, this was back when Monsters still believed in Gods for Science sake. (Atheist humor) “monsters will believe again after asgore becomes one, just like i believe in this human!! undyne is going to help too, i just know it!” she dials and explains the situation to undyne, who immediately interrupts her with “WHAT? THERE’S A HUMAN?? WHERE?” Lab:*lets out a long groan* Welp, we're screwed... alphys: oh hush, look we can see the platinum soul in action!! L:*is ambush comedied by Snowdrake* "M.. m.. macaroni and freeze! You gotta chill out, man, or i'll fight you in cold blood!" You slash him across the face. "You're not funny." "THIS won't be funny either!" He cries, sending crescent blades at you, which you dodge effectively, except you slip on the ice a little and take a small cut in the neck. You growl. "Is your flesh rotten as you?" he heckles, continuing to attack you. You dodge more easily this time and get close, smirking. "..heh." You say, staring him right in the eyes. "What are YOU laughin' at?!?" Snowdrake barks, pretending not to be upset. You wanna hear the biggest joke of all? (Incoming Joker reference) "i bet it won't be better than mine." he utters with false bravado *Proceeds to insert nihilism into his head* Everything! All you creatures have ever valued or worked for.. I't all ends... So why care about anything? When everything burns... *grins sadistically as his words worm their way into his mind* One day, you and everything you care about will be gone, and no one will remember it... Life is but a successful virus clinging to a speck of mud suspended in endless nothing... They struggle to make a retort, and slink away utterly crushed… *Grins and manifests his newfound despair as endless jokes playing in his head, constantly reminding him of how pointless everything is, he eventually can't take it anymore...* snowdrake bursts into tears, wiping them away uselessly with his wings. he approaches the river... and just keeps walking until he falls in "as if by accident". in his head he thinks "i guess i walked into that one... ugh that was terrible." he lets himself sink to the bottom, letting out all the air in his chest. (grins and walks on, finding the snowman) Lab: YOU SEE alphys: he was just being rude, he didn't kill him! he just walked off!) "hello traveler! i wish i could see the world like you... please, take a piece of my snow, so that i can?" Lab: I picked up something from that, he was using despair fields to manipulate his emotions... And don't tell me that grin doesn't just scream "Sadistic Psychopath" to you. L: *grins and melts him with Crimson energy, kicks him into the lake, and walks away, he doesn't see the thing rising out of the lake behind him Alphys: What happened to that snowman??? Lab: the negativity magic he radiates... it could have merged with his snow. when he hit the water it froze around him. Lucian:*turns around and grins* This should be interesting.. the ice golem trudges out of the water, its yells incoherent, though if you concentrated you think it might be saying "betrayed" It sends a shower of ice shards down at you *His body lights up in flames of Hatred, then jumping into the golem* your searing heat melts straight through it, leaving a gaping hole in the middle. In the middle hole is a very small, broken soul, which turns to dust. The golem shudders, and turns into water, dousing the area. (grins at his work, he walks on, once again seeing the damned flower) I suppose you want to die too weed? Flowey looks almost intimidated. he's not doing a good job of hiding his nervousness. "unlikely, you overpowered idiot. I'm the prince of this world's future, and you'll get what's coming to you." (he ends up trying to fight back, which happens several times btw) (L guffaws) Goat boy, you had your chance long ago… Flowey starts to grow taller and taller, yet still staying proportional. His face turns dark and twisted. "Now's fine, you idiot" (L's host gains claws, wings, a scorpion-esque tail, and horns) Hehe, you pathetic creatures are all the same... Either too dumb to live, or too weak to fight… Flowey's vines strike the ground like spears, which you dodge successfully, but you get slashed across the arm (not too serious) by one of the last ones. "If it's dumb but it works then it's not dumb, trashbag." flowey says, grinning. (grins) The more damage you do to me, the stronger I become... (tail slashes him) “What? That doesn’t even make sense, you’re just saying that to look cool.” flowey retorts, curving his body away from the tail and sending a shower of pellets Then let me show you... (he realizes attacks that are supposed to do damage only give him more Hp, Atk, and Def.) "What the hell?! HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT?!?" He attacks you with all he has (he pins him to the ground, and stares into his eyes) You clearly don't realize what you're up against! "I..." shit! he thinks. I have to get away! he shrinks at an unexpected rate, weakening your hold of him. He wriggles back into the ground. "don't think this is over, barf brains." he heads for alphys' lab. (he grins and wanders on, wondering if there's any more monsters on the way to snowdin) You approach the bridge, Papyrus and sans waiting on the other side. "HUMAN! THIS IS YOUR FINAL AND MOST DANGEROUS CHALLENGE! BEHOLD! THE GAUNTLET OF DEADLY TERROR!" Deadly objects pop out of a wooden structure above and below the bridge. "WHEN I SAY THE WORD, IT WILL FULLY ACTIVATE! ONLY THE TINIEST CHANCE OF VICTORY WILL REMAIN! ARE YOU READY? BECAUSE! I! AM! ABOUT! TO DO IT!" L: Go ahead.... "well? What's the holdup?" sans asks his bro. "HOLDUP? WHAT HOLDUP? I'M... I'M ABOUT TO ACTIVATE IT NOW!" "that uh... doesn't look very activated." "WELL... THIS CHALLENGE SEEMS... MAYBE TOO EASY FOR THE HUMAN TO DEFEAT. YEAH! WE CAN'T USE THIS ONE! I AM A SKELETON WITH STANDARDS! THIS METHOD IS TOO DIRECT! NO CLASS! AWAY IT GOES" The deadly devices retract into their positions, and papyrus sighs with relief. he runs off, and sans smiles at you awkwardly. "Well... I don't know what my brother is going to do now. Thanks for playing along, i really appreciate it. Just make sure you understand blue attacks, and you'll be fine." (Grins at him, and references his conflict with gaster) I wonder how your father would react..... Knowing you don't even try to save him.... Sans stiffens, his eyes wide and shocked. He rests his hand against his skull, thinking hard with a manic expression. "k-kid... how do you know about gaster?" (he chuckles) You'll know soon enough... (he walks into snowdin, no one seems to have evacuated yet) Sans watches you walk away, unsettled and shaken. He chuckles nervously, grabbing bunches of his sweater in his fists to keep them from shaking. "Heheh... that's right... they probably learned about him in a reset..." He lets go of his sweater, but his hands are still shaking, so he stuffs them into his pockets. His finger brushes against the cold surface of the knife he confiscated. He thinks to himself "I don't remember a reset where they faced gaster... Jeez, I don't have the energy to deal with this right now." He teleports to the entrance of the ruins, sitting down, looking exhausted from the stress. He knocks on the door without thinking. "Knock kno-" his eyes settle on the slight color difference between the snow and toriel's dust in front of him, and his soul squeezes painfully in his chest. He pulls his hood over his head and brings his knees to his chest, burying his head in them to keep warm. he thinks: "The kid's creepy, there's no denying it, but they've been okay so far. They looked genuinely scared and confused when tori-- It couldn't have been them. It had to be a mistake. In any case, they're good to Pap. I'm sure Papyrus will have fun with them... I have time. I'm just... so tired." His eyes close and he drifts to sleep. (explaining why he doesn't save papyrus) (he looks at all the people, he steps inside grillby's, which has no one but a certain fiery bartender at the moment...) His eyes narrow and he stops cleaning his glass. "I'm sorry, we've just closed." (he grins) Then I'll just take my order and leave... (gazes at him) Grillby stares back without any hint of emotion, clearly waiting for you to order. You can sense he's on edge, but nothing he does gives it away. *He grins and slashes at him* Your life. Grillby sort of expected this based on your behavior, so he dodges quickly and throws his glass at you. You dodge as well, but cause a large enough racket that the bear outside walks in. "hey what's goin' on in here? As mayor i need to know!"

[flauntpage]

The Cult: Roger Federer

This article originally appeared on VICE Sports UK.

Once you're done with Roger, why not clear your diary and check out the other 98 instalments of The Cult.

Cult Grade: The God Illusion

Deep in the mists of time, when this series began, I called it The Cult because it seemed that everyone had grown a little silly about who and what sportsmen and women were. The urge to venerate humans far above what they actually are is presumably as old as the human ego. I doubt that chimpanzees did it – they don't seem the type – but I'm pretty sure the Mayans did, up there on the highest hill, cutting off some child's head for a little blood sacrifice to their dead ancestors. You know what people are like: if we put our minds to it, we can control anything.

We live – or have been living, depending on how many miles you think are left on this particular road – in the Entertainment Age. You hardly need me to tell you that sport has stood side by side with movies to form its most beloved couple. Know how many movies were released in 2016? Nah, me neither. Too many. I stopped counting at 60, by which point it was January 8th. Friend Request. Eisenstein in Guanajuato. Crayon Shin-Chan: My Moving Story. "Gimme a break, kid," you'll have to tell some uppity grandchild who's asking whether you possess the know-how to construct a workable flood defence. "I was busy with other stuff."

READ MORE: The Cult – Goran Ivanisevic

Though most of the time I just accept it, every so often I'm caught by what 'normal' looks like in sport, the excess congesting its surfaces like a bad case of herpes. The umbrella sponsored by BNP Paribas, a digital display sponsored by Rolex, the sweetly innocent Robinsons, still trying to get someone to buy barley water. Loudest of all are the desperate solicitations – delivered in a tone that always puts me in mind of that poor salesman Gil from The Simpsons – to bet on anything and everything you're seeing. Please – *grips your arm* – please bet now.

Then there are the people playing it, and the labyrinthine distortion through which we now see them. What they are is humans running around and throwing things and having KEEP IT TIGHT TO HIM GARY as the central philosophy of their existence. What they also are, in the Entertainment Age, is one of the few things on this planet that feels like it truly matters. After all, it's always new, the drama of a 91st-minute winner is never fake, so blame me not for losing track of how important they are. In this Age, when all the stuff that matters most is the opposite of what has mattered most to the human race for millennia, you get a bit weird about how to define 'important'.

So yeah, that was what I wanted to get across in profiling the members of that cultish firmament. That, among other things, it's irresistible, but inane, to see them as anything but human beings. And then moonlight falls on the murky pond of human inanity, and you see a guy who, though you know you shouldn't, can't help but make you feel that we are gods. Capable of nonchalantly rewriting the laws of what is possible. And, happily, back into the pond you go.

Point of Entry: Keys To The Universe

Here are some sports players who can compete with Roger Federer in the cultish perception stakes: Michael Jordan, Usain Bolt, Lionel Messi. That's it. I mean, I say that like I have any bloody clue about how Rod Laver or Pele or Wilt Chamberlain were viewed, except for knowing that they came into the Western conscious at a time when the Entertainment Age was at best in its adolescence, when stuff like nuclear war or global communism or the rights of black people put more pressing demands on people's attention. As your correspondent at your service, I watched some old footage of Rod Laver playing tennis, and I can report back that he looks very good at it. But, running around an unadorned court in service-issue whites, that's all he looks: good at tennis. He isn't a god. He's a sportsman who won all four Grand Slams in the same year that the Soviet Union started shipping nuclear missiles to an island a few hundred miles from America. Barely 15 years previous – in fact, only slightly longer than the gap between Federer's first and eighth Wimbledon titles – America had emptied life from two cities with these weapons. They obviously weren't 'symbolic deterrents'. I sort of hope Rod did actually try telling people during that time, as their knuckles whitened around their corned-beef tin, ears glued to their radios: 'Guys, I'm thinking of eliding my initials to form a cool logo.'

Is it an error to think of how Roger Federer plays tennis as godlike? I can't tell anymore. I'm not exactly helped by all the people who assemble to watch him while wearing sportswear bearing his logo. During the semi-final against Tomas Berdych the camera repeatedly cut to a couple, who appeared old enough to dress themselves, sporting his and hers RF red caps as if that was a completely regular thing to do, even though they clashed dementedly with the rest of their outfits. At what point did they put them on? In unison? Or did they discover, as they reunited in the hall to leave the house, that they both had the same instincts? Is that not the definition of cult: the keenness to debase yourself in service of it?

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But then he played, and he reminded you that, at his best, there is no tennis apart from his. Jordan, Bolt, Messi, Federer – they have the power to remove the very existence of competition, to destroy all worlds but their own. *Mutters, sotto voce - because of dunking a ball, running fast, kicking a ball, hitting a ball*

More than once – probably about 20 times – Berdych played a shot where your natural reaction was: "He'll do well to get that one back." And then, whip. He does indeed do well. There's a music that plays, a saturnine Federer key into some rhythm of the universe that only he knows, where every single element of the winner he produces has a one-millimetre margin for error, the angle of his racket and the height of the net and the position of Berdych and the length of the court leaving it with a possibility for success of *grabs calculator* not very much. And yet his most difficult shots are the ones that seem somehow most sure to work, a restructuring of physics, the silly music of humans as gods, because it's also just tennis. The consequence is, when you're not distracted by the BNP Paribas umbrella and the Rolex display, you feel innocent about life, about how to judge and measure it. He did that to you. Your humble correspondent would argue that his ability to make you childlike and awestruck is why he seems to have a pretty neat split between girl fans and boy fans of all ages, because as kids we're less aware of our gender.

My favourite thing Federer does, and it usually happens once or twice a match, is to go down three break points. "Oh my god, I've got three break points against Federer!" The way in which he then takes those break points back, like a sniper who manages to put three headshots on you before you've even bent a knee, probably makes it even more disheartening to have got them in the first place than if you'd just lost the game conventionally. The most likely interpretation of this is that he's supremely unruffled by the situation, being who he is; and the awesome, godlike interpretation is that he really is toying with humans who have made multi-million pound careers in tennis by giving them imaginary break points.

This stuff is so illusory. You've learnt from all those interviews with sporting superheroes how regularly they disprove the possibility that exciting, compelling things are occurring in their heads. From Kobe Bryant to Pete Sampras to Steven Gerrard to Lewis Hamilton, they're all boring; they weren't made to talk. A large part of me suspects that if you were to ask Roger Federer whether, like a cruel, godlike tennis cat, he was toying with his opponents in these situations, you would be met with the same reaction as if someone asked you to describe the dynamics at play in your mind while tying your shoelaces. But I'm afraid, and this will forever hold true, a small part of me just can't help but wonder.

The Moment - A few seconds in an interview from 1999, when he had terrible highlights in his hair

Is Federer boring in interviews? Again, it's hard to tell. I mean, obviously he is. There are about eight sportsmen who give genuinely interesting interviews, and they're all fuck-ups who demonstrably had minds that distracted them from operating consistently in elite sport. But still, that happy, bulbous-nosed serenity – I end up retrofitting it in my mind, as if somehow this talking-style will be taken on to the court and turned into godlike tennis. In fact, I suspect the reality is that it's not much like him, that talking isn't a whole lot to Roger Federer, a minor significance compared to what life is really for.

Take, for example, a brief exchange during this interview, which is meant to be presented in rapid-fire 20-questions style, but, thanks to the hilariously literal-minded approach of his Dutch interviewer, comes across more like the interrogation of a fighter pilot who's been captured behind enemy lines. 'Last book you read?' Fed swats the question back in that way we've all grown to know and love, like it's literally nothing to him. "I don't read books, so I don't have a favourite book."

But relax, I have an update on this particular saga. I have sat through a little clipoid called Favourite Book? from Tennis TV. A smattering of them are proper readers, though not the Americans, obviously. It has some strong moments: Andy Roddick telling us that it is because he is 'a big history buff' that his favourite book is Angels and Demons by Dan Brown; Sam Querrey pronouncing 'book' like he isn't quite convinced of the spelling; Rafa sitting there for a second or two, looking like he isn't even convinced of the definition, and then naming a book in the magic-realist Latin American tradition from the daughter of the ex-Chilean president called City of the Beasts, like a sudden topspin whip kicking up in your face.

And then we get to Roger. A decade has passed; his cap is now adorned by an elided RF. You've never heard a more practiced answer; he says it literally as soon as he can: "I actually read a lot of magazines, newspapers, so I actually don't have a favourite book… but autobiographies are quite interesting as well."

You know what I think Roger Federer's not prepared to do? He's not prepared to get anything wrong, ever, including answers to questions like 'What's your favourite book?' Do you know how hard it must be to have that as your overall sense of life? I think, in its coiled springs, it makes you want to hurt people. Could you truly imagine that the person who occupies his spot in the sporting world would simply be the one with the most talent? The talent has to be strapped to, needled by, something darker. Something to force it beyond where anyone else's talent goes. If you looked at Roger Federer's eyes, would you say they look light or dark?

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And so we get to the true god illusion. A gentle god, his image perpetuated by how handsome he looks in a white jacket as he strides on to Centre Court, by dippily idolising TV pundits, by the creation of his smoothed, chaste, on-camera style. The illusion that somehow, Mr RF is simply playing alone, a solitary maestro bestowing his hallowed brand of tennis on a grateful world.

Bullshit. You know who doesn't get mentioned enough in any discussion of Roger Federer? His opponents. Because I can guarantee you, Roger hasn't forgotten them. He is not the charitable foundation of RF Tennis. He is, lest we forget, possibly more than anyone in the history of men's sport, the one whose forte is beating another human one-on-one. And beating them in a way that's relentless in torturing their dream that they might escape a beating. You don't get to do that, year in year out, unless you want to. Find a friendly way to describe that one to Sue Barker, eh Rodge? 'So what did you think when you knew Cilic was injured?' Can guarantee you wouldn't like the answer to that, Sue, if he could only find a way to spell it out. And here's a question: if he could, would he still feel the drive to keep on playing? Does he need tennis to spell out the darkness?

READ MORE: The Cult – Michael Vick

And so to The Moment, which occurs around 48 seconds into the video above. In the silence when the interviewer is asking him "Is it tough to be on the tour?" his face spells it out, even if it's gone in a heartbeat. And you know why I think that is? Because what he'd just said regarding recent tour results was that he'd taken a good scalp, a top-10 player, "So this week is already great."

And my theory, dear reader, for you, brought to you from a kitchen table where I have made an apple core into an impromptu ashtray, is that when 18-year-old Roger talks about beating people and then uses the words "already great", it causes a reaction in his face that gives his eyes juuuust the slightest hint of axe-murderer around enraged, tightened cheeks, before it disappears. Something inside him would never be satisfied, would never think the job was done. You cannot keep beating people, to the extent he has, unless you need to, unless it is a means to cool your insides off. And what are any of us really looking for but a way to cool off our insides?

Closing Statements

Some suited commentary goon stood next to one of those blue ATP courts in 2010, doing a bit-to-camera:"I had a chance to chat to the top eight players. I asked them a few 'random questions'.First of all, which actor would they like to portray them – *pause for effect * – in a film.

Federer: "Pffft, I dunno. Hopefully one of the greatest actors around. I don't know which one that is right now."

Words: @TobySprigings / Illustration: @Dan_Draws

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