#your first fear will always be your greatest fear and whatnot

[blueink2k]

Propaganda in Death Note and How It Played Into Light’s God Complex

[This is based on information from the anime, as I have yet to read the manga for myself. Caps from or references to the manga may be included to emphasize points or provide visuals, but the version of the plot I'm referring to is taken from the anime.]

Light Yagami does not pick up the Death Note knowing he’s going to use it to commit mass murder and become the God of his New World.

Actually, he does the opposite. He kills someone to test it as he’s under the impression it isn’t real, convinces himself it was a freak coincidence, and decides to try it out in a way that will provide a more concrete conclusion. When it does end up working he’s stunned, to say the least.

“I killed them both...I killed two men. Those were human lives. I-It won’t be overlooked. Besides, who am I to pass judgment on others?”

Light Yagami, the perfect, straight-A, model student, has just confirmed he killed two people using some strange supernatural notebook that just happened to fall into his hands. He’s always believed strongly in his morals. He’s been on course his whole life to join the police force like his father an deliver justice, and here he is, an indirect murderer. 

So what does he do about it?

...He comes up with a reason to justify himself. 

The people he killed were criminals. Mere scum who do nothing but rot and infect the world. Wouldn’t everyone be better off without them? It isn’t that he’s never considered this before, he has, albeit not to the same degree as taking their deaths into his own hands. But now that he has the power to do so, why shouldn’t he? He’s smart, he’s determined. He’s capable of it.

In fact, in his mind, he’s the only one who is.

He’s kind of right. He’s the top of his class, he comes out on top in national tests, he barely even has to try. Plus, he’s the only one that has a Death Note, and therefore the power to do this. 

At this point in time, he doesn’t consider himself a god. He doesn’t want to rule the world, he just wants to change it. Something else important to note is that he doesn’t refer to himself as Kira or anything other than Light. 

...That is, until...

Websites start popping up all over claiming that whoever this mass murderer is is named “Kira”, a god among men risen to punish criminals and save the world.

Two things to note here;

Apparently, “Kira” is returning, meaning there must have been some kind of previous belief in an entity that either did something similar to Light or had the same beliefs. There isn’t any other canon mention of a previous Kira, and this in and of itself is pretty vague, but given that there’s tons of religions in real life that have never had a big breakthrough, it’s reasonable to believe this could be something similar. That, or a creepypasta. Or a cult.

Light created this understanding that he had to be the one to change the world to cope with his murders. Actually - that might be the worst way to put it, since we know how strongly he feels about justice and being given an outlet to carry out this wish of world peace just enhanced this, but nonetheless... It’s impossible to assume he’s doing all of this without even a speck of guilt. Therefore, this is the first hint of appreciation or even just acknowledgement that what he’s doing is right. 

Disregarding the first point (as interesting as I find it), this is really the first time Light is ever told what he’s doing is good. His own father - who he idolizes -considers Kira evil. His sister flat out says she hates him. Of course, this is all after Kira actually does become popular, but still, all he receives from that point on is disapproval from the people he cares the most about. The online love for Kira is all he has.

So, yeah, he probably internalizes it.

He thinks he’s doing the right thing. He thinks he’s giving others justice. He thinks he’s the only one who can do this. Others agreeing is only enhancing this. They’re the ones who call him God.

As the story progresses, Kira’s power and popularity grows. He gains direct news coverage, people begin sending him names of people to kill, his following grows. So much so, that when someone gets a Death Note and figures out that must be what he’s using, their immediate response is to find a way to contact him.

Cue Misa Amane and Sakura TV.

Sakura TV is a news program known for its unreliability. Demegawa, the director, even says he’s willing to make things up for publicity. And that’s when the Second Kira tapes arrive. 

This, however, is only the first encounter with Sakura TV.

After this, the only direct involvement the police has with it is in the Yotsuba arc, when it’s used to lure out Higuchi. Otherwise the program promotes Kira all on its own, even going so far as to create Kira’s Kingdom - half a scam for viewers’ money, half a way to get more people to see Kira as God. And it works. He gains a following of people who believe he will create a new, better world, and will even give themselves up to help him. 

An example of this following is when a mob of followers attacks the SPK under Kira’s orders. They’re so quick to join in, and are even willing to put their names and faces on TV in trust that Kira will not kill them.

All of this publicity sparks fear in the general public. People begin fearing that if they do something wrong Kira will kill them, causing crime rates to drop nearly 70% over Kira’s 6 year reign, as well as completely stopping wars.

Demegawa is eventually killed. Other news programs begin scrambling to claim the voice of Kira, topped by NHN, where we are reintroduced to Kiyomi Takada as Kira’s spokeswoman as well as one of his greatest supporters.

Light, as much as he hates Sakura TV and NHN’s depictions of Kira, uses them to his advantage as much as he can.

But really, imagine what this is all doing to him.

At the beginning, he struggled with grasping what he was doing as right. His sense of justice, righteousness, and perfectness shattered by a single notebook. But this is perfect, he figures that if he really wants to fix the world, this is one surefire way to do it. And yeah, his family hates Kira, but online he’s worshiped as God. We already know he has a pretty decent ego, and all of this is doing nothing but fueling it.

To top it all off, as he continues with his killings, his following grows. More and more people begin to support him, every single day there’s news stations upon news stations covering his story, some negative, some positive. People from all over express admiration towards him, even the President of the United States sides with him. He is literally worshiped as Kira, as God.

This all makes it sounds like his god complex starts later in the series, so to clarify; no, he does not pick up the book with plans to become God, but the second people start fueling his ego, the more twisted his ideals and motivations become. He’s the only one who can fix this rotten world. He holds the power of a god in his hands, he does what only a god can do, and everyone treats him accordingly. He is Kira, he is God.

Between websites, news programs, and his cult-like following, Light had enough attention to feed into his ego for a lifetime. He was perfect pre-Death Note. Smart, charming, set for success. There never was a time where he was particularly not narcissistic, it was just that he only felt this way inside of himself. The way he presented to others? A perfect, cool guy persona with an - in all honesty - annoying prickly jerk hiding inside. But no one ever knew this, he never let them know, and because he was always naturally successful it was more of an expectation he just met rather than surpassed, so he wasn’t consistently praised and this incredible self-esteem wasn’t propped up by anyone but himself.

To cycle back to the title of this rant-essay-analysis-whatever you’d like to call it, I want to share some examples about exactly why I even classify this news coverage and whatnot of Kira as propaganda.

Kira’s supporters cause a riot at SPK HQ under Kira’s orders and Demegawa’s direction.

Mikami providing his insight as to why he supports Kira on television, openly promoting Kira and encouraging others to join him.

Takada announces her new role as Kira’s spokesperson on NHN.

Mikami uses his power as Kira to kill members of Kira’s Kingdom, supposed followers of Kira who have been using his publicity to gain money and attention.

Most of this doesn’t exactly look like your standard propaganda posters or news story, but it does fit the overall criteria;

Information from a biased viewpoint used to promote/publicize a certain view (accepting Kira as God)

Shows exclusively positive views on Kira

Assigns Kira positive adjectives and makes him appear as good (God, savior, messenger from Hell), never considering or showing the bad

Presenting only positive statistics (Light does this in his monologue where he brings up the 70% crime rate drop, and given there’s no way he could have calculated this on his own he likely got it from one of these media sources. Not that it’s incorrect, per se, but he does fail to mention how many innocent people he’s killed in order to do this.)

Appeals to regular, everyday people by talking about how he’s doing this for the betterment of the whole world. People who are directly affected by crime are also likely positively impacted by this.

Initiates and spreads fear by explaining how Kira only attacks those who do wrong.

In the end, Light’s personal descent into his god complex, as well as his effects on the world can be attributed to many things, but it would be a crime to ignore just how big of a role news and other types of media played in this without his direct input. To think, if Light had won and overtaken the police like he was going to, he’d have absolutely no problem stepping into his shoes as God. Everyone else already set the stage, he just had to get there first.

-

This is my first Death Note analysis, so please excuse any errors, I just watched the anime for the first time and am doing my best to piece together all of the plot and especially Light’s deep characterization the best I can. If I ever read the manga or find something new, chances are this will be updated. But as for now, it’s finally finished after a week or so of procrastinating. Thank you for reading if you got this far! <3

[lnarizakis]

you and i.

with atsumu miya. 

in 2.2k words. 

tags mutual pining, fluff, in which atsumu tries to scare the unscareable.

“‘I love you,’ he told her, after all these years of his longing eyes following her swaying body; after all these years of his always looking for her but never finding her. 

“Pensive, she looked down, at the ground, or at her feet and whatnot, then back up at him. ‘I love you too,’ she replied, after what seemed like the time it took for him to tell her he loved her. She took his hands in hers, and reached in, ever so slowly, and…”

The book was taken from your grasp before you could ever read what was to come next. You stared at empty hands, then up at the thief of your book. 

“Ah!” he gasped, “Did I scare you this time?” His words came out of him so fluidly and so repetitively that anyone would have known this was a long-time challenge of Miya Atsumu: to scare the unscareable. He’d done everything he could think of to get you stiff in the legs, cowering in fear, or just gasp aloud, but everything he managed to do ended with a “No, Atsumu-kun, you didn’t scare me today.”

It happened again. You held out your hands for him to return the book, and you said aloud, “No, Atsumu-kun, you didn’t scare me today.”

He let out another sigh in defeat and trudged back to his own seat in the classroom. There he sat not wallowing in the misery of his failure, but in the heat of his embarrassment, flustered as he held his hand that brushed against your own.

Atsumu’s brother Osamu noticed long ago the change in his brother— he wanted to assume it was back in your first year of middle school when Atsumu was surely (though, of course, he didn’t know it himself) in love with every part of you. If Osamu were to presume an exact time at which you were all Atsumu could ever focus on, he would say it was on one cold afternoon, and the three of you were having lunch together… 

“Well—! Well, it’s clearly Osamu who’s the one bad at keeping secrets!” Atsumu exclaimed. The tips of ears grew red from embarrassment; neither you nor Osamu believed it was the chill in the air that made him stutter in his words, his eyes dart all over the openness of your middle school playground, or the corners of his mouth twitch in the formation of a smile. One hand itched the side of his face while the other gripped his sandwich, which was clearly falling apart from his firm hold on it. 

“How is it a secret that you pissed the bed? I’m absolutely positive that (Y/N) would think you’re the bed-wetter type,” Osamu refuted, emphasizing his sureness. “What, should I tell ‘em why exactly you wet the bed, hm? All ‘cause you were afraid of that super-scary movie we watched before going to sleep?”

“It’s Sadako, of all the movies we watched! Of course I would be scared! I’m sure (Y/N) would be just as scared, huh? Wouldn’t you, (Y/N)?” Atsumu was so close to shouting at his brother, but he was so out of his seat to lean forward, closer to Osamu practically to spit in his face. Long forgotten was his sandwich, but you next to him brought him back down to his seat and his senses. He turned to you, almost in desperation that you’d agree with him. 

You hummed. “I’m not scared of anything.”

Osamu sputtered out a laughter. Atsumu stared slack-jawed at you, then shot his eyes toward his brother. 

“This isn’t some laughing matter, ‘Samu! You guys are just makin’ me out to be a wuss right now!” Atsumu exclaimed. 

He then added, “... Which I am clearly not!”

Again, Atsumu sat back down in his seat, as he found himself standing from the excitement bubbling in him. He sighed, hesitating to raise his white flag in defeat, and he rested his head on the slightly-sticky lunch table. Atsumu whined aloud from his skin touching the cold plastic of the table.  

“There’s something you’ve gotta be scared of, (Y/N),” Atsumu said after a while of Osamu’s silent chewing and the pages of your book crisply turning. 

“There’s nothing, really.” You continued with the book you were reading, deeply engrossed in it. There was a small smile resting on your face, Atsumu noticed. Something in him made him want to reach up and brush the strands of hair that fell over your gentle eyes— were you not aware of your vision being slightly covered, or was Atsumu reading too much into your appearance right now?

You turned to Atsumu, and he thought you were going to comment on his eyes that couldn’t peel themselves away from your face. Instead, he was faced with words that pierced his heart warm.

“Well, you can try to scare me, though.”

Atsumu thought he was being challenged, but as he looked back on his blooming feelings for you, it seemed like a taunt. Though, it was all the taunting that made him feel it was his end goal: to get you to lower your walls and reveal expressions you never would have made if it weren’t for him. The diamond in the rough was just taunting him to brush all that dust off itself. 

You were, in every way, his greatest challenger…

… and it was all the more reason for him to fall for you. 

It was a week before Halloween where he found himself looking out the window, staring at the orange leaf that clung persistently to the naked branch of the tree, despite the chaos of the wind pushing it all sorts of directions. His hand still tingled from his earlier actions, which really didn’t help with the lack of notes in his notebook. Atsumu carefully took a glance in your direction, where you sat with poise a few seats behind him, taking diligent notes. 

In actuality, the corner of your page was scrawled with the same words again and again: “You and I, You and I.” It was the last line of your book Atsumu had snatched from your hands that morning, and it was the line that left you in chills the first time reading it, and again the fourth time skimming over it. 

It was the line you wished was to become of you and Atsumu. 

“You and I.”

“What’s that mean?”

It was a week after being in your new high school, and you still hadn’t gotten used to Atsumu’s and Osamu’s newly colored hairstyles. Your eyes lingered up at Atsumu’s blond hair before trailing down to his brown eyes as you told him it was the last line of the book you had just finished reading. 

“What’s it about?” Atsumu asked you, still standing above you as you sat patiently at your desk, waiting for class to start. 

“Oh, it’s really the best book ever— It’s about this boy who’s so hopelessly in love with this girl… and he does everything he can to get her to fall in love with her…! And I’m pretty sure you’re never going to read it, so I’ll just tell you what happens.

“At the end of the book, the boy goes up to the girl, his hands in his pockets, right? And he’s lookin’ down at the floor, ‘cause he’s all nervous and stuff, and he goes: ‘I love you!’ and the girl is just so relieved because after all these years… she’s liked him back. Ever since they were small children. Isn’t that so romantic?”

He hummed, giving you a slight nod. All of that rambling of your favorite book made you feel yourself heating up, and you were positive it wasn’t the warmth of the spring morning. Atsumu then pummeled his fists onto your desk, creating a “Bang!” that was sure to scare you out of your wits. He even added his own “Ah!” of his own to surprise you even further. 

“Did that scare you, (Y/N)?”

“No, Atsumu-kun, you didn’t scare me today.”

Atsumu turned back to face his notes, or whatever was written hastily on the blank page. He’d got to try and scare you at least on Halloween. There was no way he’d ask for the help of Osamu or Suna again, who had so seriously suggested that Atsumu should scare you by Facetiming you so early in the morning, with his crusty eyes and raspy morning voice. He couldn’t ask Kita or Aran, either, who would tell him not to scare you in the first place. 

He sighed wistfully. It was much too loud for his own taste, for his teacher jerked his head back, barking at Atsumu, asking him, “What’s so tiring about my class, Miya-kun?”

—

The days came and went, and soon enough, Halloween greeted you with a tap on the shoulder. You shrugged its greeting away, hoping to pass through this day like any other, though you knew Atsumu was to have something up his sleeve for today. 

Of course, he did. Atsumu’s plan was menial— silly, almost— but he was sure it was to leave you stiff, standing still right when he jumps out at you from around the corner. After school, you were to walk from the second years’ hallway to the shoe lockers by the entrance of the school building. As you turn the corner, Atsumu will jump out at you, startling you and perhaps even dropping whatever you had in your arms. It was the perfect plan, and it was sure to work out in the end, leaving him the victor. 

Atsumu smirked to himself as he leaned against the wall, waiting for you to pass by. Soon, the soft pitter-patter of your shoes grew louder in his ears, and he huffed out a breath, getting ready to jump out and scare you. He squared his shoulders, held his chin high with pride, and his concentration hardened his expression to give everyone passing by the extra scare factor. 

You were coming close, and Atsumu could almost feel your presence. With a pivot just as graceful as a precise setter’s first step, he jumped out in front of you from behind the corner, and shouted right in your ear, where it would soon be sore for days. 

Upon seeing Atsumu, you stilled in your tracks. You drilled bored eyes into Atsumu’s face, which glowed with the spirit of a champion.

“I scared you…! I finally scared ya!”

“No, Atsumu-kun, you didn’t scare me today.” You passed by him, who wilted in defeat once again. He slouched only enough for you to notice, and you pitied him only slightly. A slight chuckle made its way through your closed smile as you looked down, so as not to reveal your flustered expression. 

He groaned. “Agh, I still haven’t scared ya? And it’s literally Halloween, the scariest day of the year! I’m supposed to scare you on this day!”

“It’s okay if you can’t,” you said, attempting to console him, “Halloween’s just some regular day, just like any other.” He followed you to the shoe lockers, where you both began to exchange your indoor shoes for your outdoors ones. The two of you continued on to the front gate, where Atsumu argued with you. 

“Sure, it’s some regular day to you, but it’s not to me! It’s, like, the six-thousandth year anniversary of me trying to scare ya, and, like, the eighteen-thousandth year anniversary of me havin’ the biggest, dumbest crush on you—!” 

Your heart stopped, and so did you. Every part of you went stiff, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to turn around, even if it was just your head, and ask Atsumu to repeat what he said. You thought your breathing went shallow as you managed to look behind you at the boy, he himself just as frightened of his own words.

“Did you just say—?”

“That I like you?” Atsumu paused. “Yeah, I did.” 

You let out a breath, almost exasperated, as you exclaimed, walking closer to him, “You…! You scared me! Thought after all these years… you’d never say it…” 

The two of you grew silent, and as your head hung low from the embarrassment that pushed it down, all that filled your vision was the dust that accumulated at your worn-out shoes and a couple dried leaves that danced past Atsumu’s feet. 

“I scared you, didn’t I?” was all he could say. You jerked your head up at him with the most exasperated expression, and all he had to give you was a smug look, claiming himself the winner— though not in the way he wanted. Still, the fluster adorned your face, and so you brushed your hair out of the way for Atsumu to rest his forehead on yours. 

He exhaled. “I finally did it,” he mumbled through a smile, “I scared you and you’re mine now, too. Double win.”

You pulled away from him. “Since when am I yours? I never told you I liked you.” 

Atsumu whined, groaning aloud, “Huh? Now I gotta get you to say you like me back, which probably won’t happen for another five years? You’re so unfair, (Y/N).” He reached for your hand, which you gladly took in yours, and the two of you began walking home in unison. 

His hand was warm. 

You clasped it tighter. 

“You and I,” you breathed out.

Atsumu turned to you. “You say something?”

You shook your head, smiling softly to yourself. “No, it’s nothing.”

It’s just you and I.

happy birthday, hana! @wansseul

[starxscream]

diogo 😨🎂🌙💧 💖 Opal:☀️🍼 ❤️💚

Omg that's a lot (thank u tho...)

It's somewhat long so. read more time <3

DIOGO

😨 FEARFUL - when scared, do they go into "flight" or "fight"?

Originally, it was flight! He'd usually flee or hide away when he was scared or something. However, after finding a role model in one of his adoptive fathers, Repo, this changed! Now when scared he's much more of a "fight" type, as he was taught to "Bite first" from said father bc the world was going to b cruel to someone like him and showing weakness was just gonna make it even harder- (Never said he was a very Good father figure...)

🎂 BIRTHDAY CAKE - when is their birthday? do they like celebrating it?

Being a robot he doesn't rly think about "birthday's" in the traditional sense GKNGKHGH So if you HAD to ask he's prolly just say his date of creation when he woke up after being completed- but he doesn't rly celebrate it cuz he doesn't think about it! So he's rly quite indifferent to it. Much like the other robots, it's really personal preference tho some of the robots take it Very Seriously and tbh Diogo only thought of birthdays bc he had a friend who was VERY into horoscopes and needed his sign GKNHGKHG (He's a Gemini btw)

🌙 MOON - what is your oc's greatest wish? how far are they willing to go for it?

This is a rly hard question for Diogo bc he has, a lot, but I suppose the main one RIGHT NOW would to feel safe and to find a place where he truly feels like he belongs.

He purposefully isolates himself with his behavior due to layers of betrayal, abandonment, and trauma, so it's hard for him to truly feel fulfilled with anything he's doing. He wants to reach out and make Real friends- but at the same time he can't know if they won't do the same to him like everyone else so he keeps them at arms length.

In his mind rn he's willing to do "anything" to achieve his goals bc he thinks if the bigger he gets, the more untouchable he is, the better it will be. Looking down on everything instead of joining in, because then he will be safe from everything. So he just keeps working...and working...and working...... And not stopping to form the connections he actually truly wants to make and would help him feel less empty inside.

💧 DROPLET - random angst headcanon

Despite recognizing that his "role model" Repo was incredibly manipulative and not rly that great of a father for him and put him into a lot of uncomfortable situations and used his emotions against him, Diogo still can't completely hate him. Because before the shift in their relationship that caused this bad rift between them, Repo and Diogo did have a genuinely pretty okay relationship and Diogo learned a LOT from him and still shares a lot of mannerisms w/him.

It's just that he'll never be able to get the closure he deserves with Repo that's saddening to him.

💖 SPARKLING HEART - are they a subtle or a showy lover?

A showy lover for sure! As much as he loves to tease and mess around and not admit feelings, he's still very very obvious LOL He's very physically affectionate and picks up on things, always eager to spoil his partner with gifts! Think of him like a cat honestly. Yea. Cuz he kinda is one. KNGHKGH But he's surprisingly very loving despite the harsh and judgey exterior.

OPAL

☀️ SUN - are they a morning person? what is the first thing they do in the morning?

Truthfully? No. They seem like it but Opal would rly rather sleep in and tends to force themselves out of bed every morning at the last possible minute bc work has them up pretty early due to having a somewhat long commute being on the outskirts of Cadenza and having a job in the center-

First thing he does every morning is complain abt getting up. KGNHKGNH But seriously first thing he does is drag himself out of bed and wash off his face and whatnot to wake up! Fix up his hair and such, make sure there's not an excessive of nudibranch slime clingin to him before he gets dressed... He takes pride in his appearance!

🍼 BABY BOTTLE - what are their thoughts on children?

At first mostly indifferent, thinks they can be cute sometimes, but he's always been pretty good with them! However now that he's got a part-time job in addition to his main job as an impromptu babysitter his thoughts have changed GKHNGKH He's essentially raising this kid, Eugene, that kinda stuck to him at his place of work bc Eugene's parents kinda suck. Like a lot. So Opal kinda took it upon himself to look after him and is doing a pretty good job at it. Sort of. But he likes kids more now, esp His Kid.

❤️ RED HEART - their love language(s)?

Theirs would moooost likkeeeeely be quality time! He's pretty bad at vocally saying what he feels and tends to waver to and fro on things, but what they CAN do is be the most annoying person alive (lovingly). They tend to strike up conversations and generally be within their partner's presence- plan dates and make arrangements for things like that. Just generally giving most if not all of his attention to his partner at that moment in time

💚 GREEN HEART - what things make your oc feel comforted? hugs, kisses, food?

Reassuring words or just general comforting words work the best with Opal, they tend to get rly stuck in their own head a lot and sometimes needs some coaxing to get out of it- plus it gives them something else to focus on besides their own thoughts. Even if its just senseless rambling, they'll listen. Tho he will NOT say no to cuddles or ice cream KNHKGNHG

[maxwell-grant]

On Lord Hawthorne

A lot of what makes Lavender Jack special to me is the way it’s so masterfully able to create engaging, modern material out of it’s influences, and it’s creation of a genuinely timeless pulp icon that I think should serve as the ideal baseline for any and all creators who want to create stories based on pulp characters, old and new alike, in the future. 

As I make my way through Season 2 and eagerly await Season 3 I’d like to take the time to talk a little about the often overlooked half of the villain duo of Season 1, Lord Hawthorne, and what I think is interesting about him. Out of the many ways pulp heroes have been reimagined into villains over the decades, Lord Hawthorne stands out to me as easily one of the best ones, as a thoughtful take on the Tarzan character.

Spoilers before the cut

The first thing everyone immediately picks about Lord Hawthorne is that he’s Tarzan, with hardly any ifs or buts about it. He’s Tarzan, and we quickly learn that he’s the villain, part of a villain duo with Lady Hawthorne, the real mastermind and kingpin in pearls behind the story’s events. Having Tarzan as the villain n a story that draws from pulp and Edwardian fiction is already an interesting start, as three of the most popular molds from which are pulp heroes are based on, three of the most popular characters as icons, are Tarzan, the Scarlet Pimpernel, and Sherlock Holmes, all three of which exist in some capacity in the world of Lavender Jack. The Gentleman Villain, The Great Detective, and The Wild Man.

Lavender Jack, as I’ve mentioned, is based on the Pimpernel, as well as other figures such as Spring-Heeled Jack and Bertie Wooster. Jack draws from icons that largely predate the pulp heroes because, in Schkade’s own reasoning, if you’re going to try and create an authentic pulp hero, it only makes sense to use as a base the characters that largely inspired them, and clearly that worked out very well. Jack is a Pimpernel remodeled and recontextualized into modern sensibilities, into an era of superheroes and webcomics.

In the Great Detective’s case, we have the figure of Madame Theresa Ferrier, who is called into the story by the Mayor to try and solve the mystery of Lavender Jack’s identity. Schkade describes Ferrier as a character that pulls from elements of detectives like Hercule Poirot and C.Auguste Dupin as well as Sherlock Holmes, in particular Jeremy Brett’s later year performances. As he describes:

In the series’ final years, Brett was getting older, sicker, hindered by bipolar medications that sapped his energy and caused him to gain weight, and he used it. His Holmes became a fading, melancholic shadow of his younger self, but with the spark of his brilliance showing through when it counted. I always found that so compelling

Ferrier is repeteadly described in-universe as “The Great Detective”, and she is both the oldest as well as the most brilliant character in the comic. Despite her age, despite her physical complications, and the tragedy that surrounds her love life, she is nonetheless incredibly skilled, strong and resourceful, able to unmask Jack and survive a confrontation with Lord Hawthorne and even nearly beat him. Ferrier draws from the Great Detectives of old, but this is a character that could never be mistaken for any of them. She’s not specifically based on any of them because, as Schkade puts it: “I wanted her to be someone I’d never get to draw in a leading role in most of my work-for-hire jobs”. 

Her role in the comic ends up being one of mentorship to Jack, and despite her age being emphasized as well as the idea of her belonging to an older generation of great heroes that now gives way to the younger and hot-blooded Jack as well as Ferrier’s new partner in Honoria Crabb, Ferrier is very much another great example of where the old meets the new in Lavender Jack. Pulling from the great old archetypes but very much recognizable as her own thing. 

Thing is, when it comes to Lord Hawthorne, we don’t really get that, because Lord Hawthorne isn’t really combining the idea of Tarzan with a splash of something new and outstanding and modern. He really is just Tarzan, and not a terribly layered character at that, for much of the story he’s largely just a voiceless bulldozer who exists to do the dirty work of Lady Hawthorne no matter how dirty. This isn’t at all a criticism, because I think Hawthorne being just Tarzan, with little to no bells and whistles and twists on it, is central to what makes him work not just as a great physical threat Jack must overcome (in a similar way to Bane as both a monstrous powerhouse and also having a strong connection to a powerful pulp hero), but also someone whose tragedy comes to light as we finally learn more about him. The fact that he is monosyllabic and largely devoid of any personal interests or life outside of being muscle for Lady Hawthorne is something deliberate, as outlined in a speech given by another character in Chapter 39

Her world's been changing for years, now. She's taking her place in a wider game. A more nuanced game. And you're still...Why, you're only good for one thing, aren't you? Well, maybe two, you old hound, you.

I know why you spend vast stretches of the year off in that jungle. It's not for sport, it's not to keep your edge...it's because when there's no need to fight, no struggle to win, no enemy...there's just...you.

And you know there's not really anything to you, underneath all those scars and muscles.

No dreams, no warmth, no depth. Nothing to love.

So you stay away...and that way, you can come when she calls you. You can sweep back to Gallery and show up all filthy and draw her into your powerful, savage embrace....and maintain your novelty.

All of this so you'll never have to endure a silent sunday afternoon where there's nothing to do, any no one to kill, and your lady simply...doesn't...need you.

You do know this word, don't you, Hawthorne, old fellow? "Novelty?"

And how does he respond?

Not with a denial, but an affirmation that this is ultimately all personhood amounts to, in his worldview. Just one more thing to be conquered and then used as a club to batter others with. 

The very act of a character questioning their own worth and depth of personality usually tends to be a telling sign that they, in fact, have those things even if they are out of touch with them, but Hawthorne doesn’t particularly rebuff anything Van Lund’s saying. He just reaffirms his title as Lord while threatening him with violence, because violence is all he knows. 

As we later learn, Lord Hawthorne isn’t, in fact, the real Lord Hawthorne, but instead he and his wife usurped the title from the real one as they escaped from the jungle, where he was only known as “the wild man”. A man who’s been forced his entire life to live in a kill-or-be-killed world, to live as an animal in constant conflict with humans, was then captured and then brutally tortured every day for over a month, and then found for the first time someone who treated him with something resembling affection, someone who ultimately turned him into a tool for her evil designs, and he readily accepts this because he has no life, no identity, outside of her. He doesn’t even know his own name.

In fact, for all we know, he might as well be John Clayton himself, except he was born in a world where being Tarzan is not the greatest thing ever and there was no Jane or ape mother to guide his malleable heart into something resembling good, and there was only Sarah to mold him into an instrument of murder at his lowest point.

I argue that Tarzan is a character that’s all about freedom and vitality, as a heroic take on an archetype that’s long been the missing link between superheroes and monsters, where the dual nature of mankind between person and ape acts not as a disorder or source of conflict but instead as the ultimate power fantasy in a character who gets the best of both with none of the downsides. Lord Hawthorne isn’t necessarily a return to form, because there is no dual nature to him. There is no gentleman, no Lord Greystoke descendant of nobility, romantic hero and great adventurer and leader of men and whatnot. There is only the ape, and what little façade has been grafted onto him by his master so he can pass off as a person, only long enough until he takes his shirt off and starts murdering people for her. While we get long extended close-ups of the icy cruelty in Lady Hawthorne’s eyes, there is none for Lord Hawthorne, because he is not cruel, he is an animal. He’s not a fighter, he’s a survivor. He lives to kill and serve the person who tells him who or what to kill. 

Lord Hawthorne is what happens when you strip the Tarzan legend of the romanticism of fiction and you look at it for what it would likely result in: the tragic story of a child forced to grow in the jungle, where the concept of personhood and human decency are utterly meaningless and there is only survival, where his existence is at odds with the worlds of man and animal alike, and what happens when that sort of being receives a first contact with something resembling decency and love. Even if said first contact wasn’t with someone as evil as Lady Hawthorne, there was little chance Lord Hawthorne’s life was ever going to be anything other than just an extension of his life in the jungle, or end in anything other than tragedy, and ultimately even the characters start to pity the wild man.

Jack: All that power and stamina and fighting acumen, but yet all you seem to get to use it for is...this. Another laborious climb to another locked-room murder.

Ferrier: You've long passed the point where human lives hold any meaning. You are detached from our species, a...a stranger, loose among us. I thought the sight of you would stir distain in me, or even fear...but as I look at you now...I feel for you only the strangest sort of pity.

What I like most about Lord Hawthorne as a take on Tarzan is that, far too often, we see intended “deconstructions” or reinterpretations of the classic pulp heroes, or even superheroes, that largely just make them villainous by extrapolating the worst possible interpretations of the character’s traits or real-life circumstances around them to villainize them, or outright invent faults and problems that weren’t there in the source material, usually to put one character over the other. The entirety of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen is built on this, as is a lot of Superman parodies built on getting the most graphically shocking results possible. 

I'll admit it’s somewhat hypocritical of me to criticize this entirely, because it’s an impulse that I sadly admit I myself have fallen into in my own writings on characters not my own, as anyone who’s ever talked with me about Doc Savage, a character I do not like and cannot bring myself to like, can testify. I get why this happens, even if I understand why it’s shitty. Ultimately, the best “deconstructions” or reinterpretations will always come from people who are best familiar with the material they are using and know exactly the best ways to twist it, like with Mark Waid’s Irredeemable, an Evil Superman comic written by a huge Superman fan who knows exactly the absolute worst ways a Superman character can go sour, and was leagues ahead of works like The Boys and Brightburn who largely just take the “easy” pot shots. 

With Lord Hawthorne, we get a character who’s an evil take on Tarzan, but whose evilness isn’t made from exaggerating or adding faults to the source material character, which could very easily be done. I never got the sense that the author hates Tarzan and wants everyone to hate Tarzan and is willingly to sacrifice immersion just to get across how much he hates Tarzan (again, something LOEG does way too often), in fact it really doesn’t matter how the author feels about Tarzan, because those feelings are irrevelant to what’s on the page. 

Instead, Lord Hawthorne is an evil take on Tarzan whose characterization is largely based on just looking at the source material, the character’s origins, and extrapolating the circumstances in which that could go sour. What would a “wild man” forced to grow up and fight for survival every day in the jungle look like, what would that person look like when making it’s first contact with human affection, how could that person be twisted and manipulated into becoming a villain, what’s even left to that person outside of violent action scenes. How little it would take to twist a childhood hero into a brute that murders old women in their hospital beds, just by tweaking a few details about the context surrounding him. 

He is not a caricature of Tarzan, he’s not a parody, he is just Tarzan, but no longer the power fantasy. No longer the center of fantastical adventures. No longer getting the best of both worlds, but instead having to contend with the worst of them. Ultimately only finding some dignity in death, with his nemesis expressing hope that, maybe somewhere else, he’s going to have better luck than what this world afforded him.

[acousticcheeze]

Here's my 100 questions for my OC thing!

My OC is Laureli, a 6'2 Altmer trying to make his way in Skyrim

1. What do they smell like?

Whatever alchemy ingredient he’s been working with, really. Lavender is what he smells like most often, though.

2. What is their voice like?

A smooth-ish medium pitch Altmer voice that has elements of calm and irritation.

3. What is their biggest motivator?

Helping others through his alchemy. He wants to improve medicine for Skyrim, as well as all of Tamriel.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory?

He had a whole scientific presentation one year that ended up being completely wrong. He got humiliated in front of everyone.

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

Winces at it, curses, and then gets to treating the problem.

6. What do they like to wear?

Functional clothes that keep him warm and allow him to carry alchemy ingredients in his pockets.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

The relationships with some of the people he’s helped over the years. It gave him a sense of purpose and fulfillment knowing that he could help people, save people.

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

He’s an alchemist...in Skyrim...I’m pretty sure there are a few contenders… (giants toe, large/small antlers, ectoplasm, the list goes on)

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

Normal side sleeper. Prefers to sleep on his left side.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

Horker stew. It’s actually way better than he thought it would be.

11. What do they feel most insecure about?

If what he’s doing is good enough. He has big problems with perfectionism that still persist with him even after leaving Summerset.

12. How do they like to dress?

Robes with an alchemy enchantment and a hood.

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

He tries to shake them off, but has panic attacks and whatnot sometimes as a result of them.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

Is completely shattered by it. He’s dealt with this so many times before, though, so he keeps his cards close to his chest.

15. What is their greatest achievement?

Creating potions that help much more than the average cure disease potion would, as well as all sorts of other concoctions. Also, he’s created a sort of disinfectant and is working on a hand sanitizer.

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Cranky, cranky, cranky.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

Drunk? Oh no no no no Laureli does not drink (and even if he did he’d be out real quick)

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

He isn’t really into music, but he enjoys the songs the bard plays at the Bannered Mare.

19. Are they right or left handed?

Right, but is practicing with his left hand too in case something happens to his right.

20. Fears?

Death and failure, mostly.

21. Favorite kind of weather?

As the sun rises and there’s dew all over the grass, the light reflecting through each drop.

22. Favorite color?

The color of eyes. Or, more specifically, the hundreds of little pinpricks of different colors inside of eyes, It’s really quite fascinating.

23. Do they collect anything?

OH YEAH. So many different alchemy ingredients and random stuff to be used in his next works-

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

Cold, which is good since he lives in Skyrim.

25. What is their eye color?

Chartreuse (like most Altmer)

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

Altmer

27. Hair color?

White

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

Yup. Breezehome is small, but manageable, and Whiterun is a decent hold to live in.

29. Are they a morning person?

Yes. He gets tired around 9 and can’t stay up past 12.

30. Sunrise or sunset?

Sunrise.

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

Very organized. Again, he’s a perfectionist.

32. Pet peeves?

People touching his things as well as people inserting themselves into his business.

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

An amulet of Talos a Nord gave him. He hadn’t gotten the chance to learn much about Talos at home, and he found it very interesting talking to the local Nords about their beliefs. That amulet reminds him of his first day in Skyrim, the first day of his new life.

34. Least favorite food?

Taffy treats, or anything with that sort of texture and stickiness that can get stuck to his teeth very easily.

35. Least favorite color?

Very pale green. It looks gross.

36. Least favorite smell?

Death. (Yes, death has a smell)

37. When was the last time they cried?

Recently.

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

No. Oh Auri-el, no no no no. He cries alone and he makes sure of it.

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

Was in a fire when he was younger, he has a burn going up the inner leg on his right leg.

40. Do they have any scars?

Only mental ones. (and the burn scar on his leg)

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

Perfectionism, past abuse, self hate, among others.

42. Do they have any bad habits?

Picking at his nails. He knows it makes them hurt and get bloody, but sometimes he just can’t help it.

43. Why might someone dislike them?

He can be very rude if he’s working, but to be fair, it is really annoying to be bothered in the middle of your work.

44. Why might someone love them?

Who wouldn’t love an overworked science boye? But in all seriousness, if he loves someone, he will be very caring towards them and is also just great listener. Tries not to care any more though because of personal trauma.

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

Yup. He’s heard of people’s encounters with them. Honestly, you’d be stupid to not believe in them.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

At this point? No. Farkas later down the line? Yes.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

Farkas, but we ain’t talking about that yet~

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

No

49. Do they like surprises?

No. Please do not surprise this poor man he will stagger back and crash into everything.

50. When is their birthday?

9th of Hearthfire (September 9th)

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

He takes a few seconds to acknowledge it and then gets on with his work.

52. Do they have any family?

Yup! A Mom, a Dad, a younger sister, and a male cousin that lives nearby (he’s in the Thalmor and the whole family has very Pro-Thalmor views)

53. Are they close to their family?

HAH- no~

54. What is their MBTI type?

INTJ (Damn this list for making me look up stereotypes for this. Honestly I hate the MBTI system so much-)

55. What is their zodiac sign?

Virgo

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

Ravenclaw

57. What D&D alignment are they?

If lawful chaotic good was a thing then yes

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

Yes, but they are often so tangled up that it’s hard to get any real meaning from them.

59. What are their views on death?

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’ll be fine-” Hopes that he’ll be fine but is really scared about it.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

Bad science puns. He will stifle a chuckle before telling you how bad your joke was.

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

This man does not get bored. He will always find something alchemy related to study or look into.

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

Yes. Laureli loves the Skyrim weather (for the most part. Places like Dawnstar and Winterhold suck)

63. Do they have an accent?

Yes. He has the typical Altmer accent.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

“Why is this here? This isn’t mine.”

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say

He would probably take too long deciding and die before he could do/say anything.

66. How do they feel about sex?

Sex repulsed asexual.

67. What is their sexuality?

GAY

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

Nope.

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

He’s seen so much it would take a lot to surprise him here.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

Grumpy scientist with no people skills.

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

Yes, definitely

72. Are they allergic to anything?

Not really. (Lucky)

73. Do they have a pet?

No

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

Nope, unless you press his buttons. His anger is pretty much “What in the name of Auri-el is wrong with you?! Don’t touch my equipment!!”

75. How patient are they?

Very...until you hit his limit. Then he gets passive aggressive.

76. Are they good at cooking?

Not really. He can be good at it, he just chose not to learn in favor of working on his projects. Can make enough to live on, though.

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

He doesn't have a favorite insult (he rarely insults people).

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

Talking fast, pacing, flappy hands.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

Try to avoid bringing those fears up around them and avoiding making fun of them. If their fear is nearby, he will either tell them or take care of it. (which is good because Farkas is scared of spiders)

80. Are they trustworthy?

Yes, but you have to be a very certain kind of person to work with him.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

Sometimes, especially romantic feelings. Romantic attraction? Nope, not possible- (It totally is; he’s in denial)

82. Do they exercise regularly?

With all of the walking he does around various holds, yes.

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

Yes. He’s a perfectionist with many things, but has learned to let go a bit more when it comes to his appearance. He still will take ages to get ready, though.

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

Tattoos, braids, basically everything you’d see on a typical Nord. It’s so different from his home and he’s completely enamored.

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

Himbo nord men. Sweet morons basically.

86. Do they like sweet foods?

Not really. Sweet foods do have their place, but he isn’t wanting to get any cavities, so he tries to limit his sugar. (Especially since Altmer live 200-300 years aprox)

87. What is their age?

52 (~20s for an Altmer)

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

Tall, but about average for an Altmer

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

No, but if he did he would have half-moon spectacles.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

Not really. He doesn’t really think anyone is attractive. (Well, except for Nord himbos, but he doesn’t know that until he meets Farkas)

91. What is their sense of humor like?

Practically nonexistent, but when there is humor it’s mostly dry and sardonic.

92. What mood are they most often in?

That sort of focused work mode you get in when you’re really concentrating, as well as somewhat-sociable-but-still-kind-of-tired-and-grumpy

93. What kinds of things anger them?

People messing up his equipment. Oh sweet Auri-el, if you touch his things he will explode. Also, he hates the racism that the Thalmor promote. (He hates racism in general, but he hates the Thalmor’s views the most).

94. Outlook on life?

“It sucks, but I do find quite a bit fascinating and I’ll help where I can.”

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

His perfectionism, how lonely he knows he is, and more.

96. What is their greatest weakness?

Again, his perfectionism, as well as having his work dictate more in his life than he should.

97. What is the greatest strength?

His brain. He remembers small details extremely well, and is practically an encyclopedia when it comes to alchemy.

98. Something that they regret?

How awful he used to be to everyone back home. He got a lot of pushback on his dreams and who he was, so he lashed out. Even though there wasn’t much he could do there, he still regrets hiring his family and wants to try at a relationship again with them (lol good luck).

99. Biggest accomplishment?

How is this different from “Greatest Achievement”?

100. Create your own! (Why is his alchemy so different from the norm?)

Because he’s trying to do something much more along the lines of modern medicine as opposed to just potions.

101. (Bonus!) Why is he in Skyrim?

Because it’s rather lacking in the medicine department compared to the other provinces, so he decided his talents would be best used there. Obviously, his family protested, but he went anyways.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

What do you think the Animorphs would be like playing D&D? Not "the Animorphs in a D&D world", but the Animorphs actually sitting down and having a campaign of D&D. Like the classes/races they'd pick, their play styles, wacky shenanigans (because we all know it would happen).

[Credit to Cates for 100% of the character builds, and most of the lore, in this AU.  In case you were wondering, I’m the Jake-style “never read the manual” chaotic-dumbass bard of our campaign; she’s the Marco-style “uses the rules exactly as much or little as needed” DM.]

It was decided almost right away that one on the team had any alignment.  As DM, Marco attempted to start there, only to have Ax begin questioning whether the manual’s explanations of “good” and “evil” truly captured human ethics on a grand scale.  Tobias claimed that Ax was looking at it all wrong, that the moralities were only default behavior types within the game, and that within this particular context morality didn’t matter.  Cassie got very concerned about the idea of context-dependent morality, Rachel declared that the book was stupid and short-sighted for claiming that destroying things was always bad, Jake quietly asked for the fourth or fifth time if this game was actually a good idea…

“Fine!” Marco announced.  “You’re all amoral characters.  Happy?”

“‘Amoral’ implies that we’re immoral, doesn’t it?” Cassie asked.  “Or that we exist outside the spectrum of moralities?”

“Just…”  Marco rolled his eyes.  “Everyone leave that spot on your character sheet blank, okay?  If it ever comes up, we’ll deal with it on a case-by-case basis.”

“Yes,” Ax said, “although you never did answer my question about the implied ethical structure of this universe.”

After that, character creation went fairly smoothly.  Kind of.

“Why does Dennis need a backstory, again?” Jake asked, looking down at his sheet.

“Dennis?” Marco said.  “Dennis?  

“You already said I wasn’t allowed to use ‘Dylan’ or ‘Brad’, so…’”

“C’mon man, this is D’nD.  There are no Dennises in medieval fantasy epics.”

“Fine.”  Jake crossed out and rewrote the name at the top of his character sheet.  “Why does Keith need a backstory?”

“To explain his motivation.”

“You just said that the whole time we’re going to be chased around by orcs and whatnot.  Isn’t not dying enough motivation?”

“You really don’t understand this game, do you?” Rachel said.

“I really don’t understand this game,” Jake agreed.

“My character’s a dragonborn rogue named Joan, and she’s the greatest gymnast of all time.”  Rachel added a Dexterity marker to her sheet with a flourish.

“I thought I was a dragonborn,” Jake said.  “Is that allowed?”

“Yeah, we can have as many dragonborns as you all want.”  Marco shrugged.  “We just can’t have multiple bards.  And since you called dibs on that class, and Rachel wants to be a rogue, we’re fine.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jake said.  “I just want to help out the team.  Or, uh, Keith does?”

“Great.”

“So that’s my backstory, right?  Being a bard?”

“Yes,” Rachel said, at the same time Marco said, “No!”

In the end, Marco declared that if neither Rachel nor Jake could come up with a proper backstory, he was making their characters cousins.  Tobias, who had a better flair for the romantic, declared that said cousins were from an internationally feared family of highwaymen.

“So does that get us any extra skills, coming from a family of pirates?” Rachel asked.

“Maybe it’d explain how good your character is at gymnastics,” Jake said.  “Because of riggings and all.”

“Highwaymen.”  Marco looked up from where he was trying to salvage Keith’s stats from the hopeless tangle of Jake’s incorrect math.  “Tobias said you guys are highwaymen, not pirates.”

“What are pirates but highwaymen of the sea?” Tobias asked, tilting his head in thought.

“Just put us down as jewel thieves.”  Rachel made a note on her own sheet.  “Jewel thieves of diverse methodology.  Wherever jewels can be found, there we are with threats of violence to take them away.”

“By the way, why is Ax now a tiefling?” Tobias asked Marco.

“I told Marco I have no preference for my class and race,” Ax said.  “And the word is most pleasant, tea-fling.  Ffflllling.”

“They’re blue and have tails.”  Marco smirked at Tobias.  “It’s perfect!”

Rachel and Jake might’ve been vague on the idea of backstory, but Ax was quite definite.

“I am Eldrias the tiefling, fffflllling, paladin.  She was raised by cows,” he announced.

“Don’t you mean raised by wolves?” Jake said.  “Isn’t that a thing, raised by wolves?”

“Uh-huh,” Marco said, “since your land-pirates make perfect sense.”

“Wolves are beautiful animals, but they pale in comparison to cows,” Ax said.  “Among other things, wolves’ meat is not so succulent and does not pair nearly as well with french fries.”

“Okay then,” Jake said, “raised by cows.  Got it.”

Becoming a barbarian was Cassie’s idea.  She spun through the manual in a rapid burst of pages, brushing gentle fingertips over the beautifully rendered illustrations, and then pressed it shut.  “Barbarian,” she said.  “That’s the one that can protect the team the best, right?  So I’ll be a barbarian.”

Marco laughed.  “All right then.  Barbarian it is.  Anything else in mind, for this barbarian of yours?”

Cassie tapped a finger against her lower lip, fluttering through the first several pages of the manual once again.  “I could make my character a big, tall guy, right?”

“Sure.”

“But I want pointy ears.”  She grinned at the rest of the table, somewhat sheepish.

“Half-elf barbarian, then?”

“Half-elf barbarian.”  Cassie looked down at the sheet in front of her.  “He can be named Reisgalan Von Schwartzel of the Morsgalath Half-Elves, Lord of the Plains and Wielder of…”  She glanced around.  “What’s that thing with the spiky ball on a stick?”

“Mace,” Rachel provided.

“Mace is that spray you use on bears and muggers,” Jake said.

“And it’s also a spiky ball on a stick.”  Marco glanced at Cassie’s sheet.  “You have a backstory for Reisgalan Von Whatshisface?”

“Hmmmm.  Can I be widowed and have a tragically dead prince I must avenge?”

“Is it me?”  Jake smiled hopefully.

“What?”  Cassie frowned at him.�� “No.  That’d be horrible.”  She looked over at Marco.  “Uh, can my character be a guy and also have a dead husband?  Is that allowed?”

“Yeah, sure,” Marco said.  “I’m the ruler of this universe, so I say it’s fine.  And Tobias is the designated rules lawyer, so he’ll probably have some reason that it’s not.”

“I am not rules-lawyering!”

Marco looked at Ax’s character sheet, and then pointedly back up at Tobias.  “Ax, how did you end up as not just a paladin, but a paladin that’s even more overpowered than the standard build?”

“Paladins are allowed.”  Tobias shrugged.  “It’s right there in the manual.”

“Ax, how you have splint armor?” Marco demanded.

“Paladins can wear Heavy armor,” Tobias sing-songed.

Marco growled.

Ax squinted at his character sheet. “Tobias says when I get to Level Three, I will take the Oath of Vengeance and take a Vow of Enmity. I will know the spells Thunderous Smite, Command, and Detect Magic.”

Marco’s face was turning an interesting shade of red.

“Oh, and Eldrias the paladin is taking Great Weapon as her Fighting Style.”  Tobias wasn’t bothering to hide his smirk.  “It’s all perfectly legal.”

Ax frowned at Marco.  “Banging your head against the table with that level of force may have an adverse effect on your brain’s ability to function.” 

“I’m not rules-lawyering for selfish gain,” Tobias said loftily, looking over Marco’s prone form.  “And besides, Ax is new at this.  He needs all the help he can get.”

“You find yourselves in a magical land.”  Marco made a wild gesture in the air.  It was probably meant to look dramatic and mysterious.  “A land known as Falicornia.”

“Marco sucks at naming things,” Rachel whispered loudly.

“Rachel sucks at listening,” Marco whispered more loudly.

“You were saying?” Jake asked.

“This magical land is under threat from the dread god Cthulu!  You must stop him through using the Philosopher’s Stone, which is powerful but cannot be used except by those who do not wish to use it.  It contains many powerful temptations for the bearer.  You must journey across the land, facing many dangers, to bring it to the only magical mirror that can destroy it before Cthulu has the chance to rise from that mirror and take over the world.”

Cassie raised her hand.

“Yes?” Marco said.

“Why does Cthulu want to take over the world?” she asked.  “Does he need it for something?”

Marco sighed.  “He wants to take over because he’s Cthulu.  Any other questions?”

“First question: did you steal more of this plot from The Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter?” Rachel said immediately.  “Second question—”  She turned to Ax.  “Have we showed you those movies?”

“He’s reading the books first,” Tobias said.

“I’m reading the books first,” Ax agreed.

“You were saying about Cthulu,” Jake said to Marco.

“Yes.  He wants to take over because he’s Cthulu,” Marco glared at Rachel.  “Just because.“

“Actually,” Tobias said, “the original version of Cthulu was kind of like the Silver Surfer of Norse Mythology, and his motivation—”

“He wants to take over because he’s Cthulu.”  Marco took a deep breath.  “Anyway.  Moving on.”

“Okay, you’re here.”  Marco pointed to the G.I. Joe figure sitting in the middle of their somewhat crudely drawn map.  “The goblins are…”  One after another, he set four white pawns from his mom’s chess set around the G.I. Joe that represented Jake, forming a half-circle that separated him from Ax’s Smurf, Cassie’s My Little Pony miniature, and Tobias’s Precious Moments angel figurine.  “Rachel is, uh…”  He set the teddy bear pencil topper several inches back, between two goblin-pawns.  “There.  So.”  Marco looked up at Jake.  “You’re under attack.  You’re up first in initiative order.  What’re you going to do?”

Jake frowned, surveying the scene in front of him.  “I have magic, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Okay, so I’ll use magic to turn myself into a bird, and then—”

“Yeah, no.”

“Then I’ll turn my teammates into birds, and they can—”

“You cannot turn yourself into a bird, you cannot turn anyone else into a bird, no one is turning into a bird or any other animal at any point in this game.”  Marco glanced over at Tobias.  “No offense.”

“Oh, I totally agree,” Tobias said.  “A Level One bard performing an animal shapes transmutation?  Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Anyway.”  Marco pointed at Jake’s G.I. Joe figurine.  “Assuming we’re sticking to handheld weapons, what else do you want to do?”

“I… shoot the goblin?” Jake suggested.  “With my…”  He flipped over his character sheet, squinting at his own handwriting.  “With my board-sword.”

“Pretty sure you meant ‘broadsword,’” Rachel said.  “Okay, Jake killed the goblin, now what?”

Cassie peered over Jake’s shoulder.  “It could just be a sword made out of boards, you don’t know.”

“Jake only has thirteen out of sixty odds of killing the goblin on one go,” Marco said.

Tobias flipped open his own manual to the entry on goblins.  “Where are you getting these numbers from?”

Marco selected two dice from the pile, handing them both to Jake.  “Oh, I just figure that if the goblin’s got an armor class of seven and five HP, then Jake’s got a thirteen-in-twenty chance of scoring a hit and then a two-in-six chance of it being deadly, given his hit dice.  So if you reduce twenty-six over one-twenty down it’s thirteen in sixty.  Like, point-two-one-seven out of one.  Simple math.”  He gestured at Jake.  “Roll those.”

“You and I have very different definitions of the word ‘simple.’”  Jake looked up.  “Uh, ten and the other one says four?”

“You grievously injured but did not kill the goblin,” Marco said graciously.  “Now it’s the turn for this leftmost goblin, who is going to run and stick a sword through Rachel…” He rolled, and winced.  “That’s fifteen to hit, and two damage?”

“What’s that mean for my little rogue?”  Rachel waved her pencil topper at him.

“You got stabbed,” Marco said.

“Uh-huh.”  Rachel picked up her pen and sheet.  “Where?”

Marco shrugged.  “The leg, let’s say.  Uh, upper thigh?”

“Mm-hmm.”  She wrote that down.

“Okay, then.”  Marco glanced at his sheet.  “Next in initiative order is—”

“I cast psionic blast as a Level One spell, which would cause additional damage to fiends or the undead.  Are they undead goblins?” Tobias asked.

Marco rolled his eyes.  “Nope.”

“Then they each suffer three points of damage and do not have the opportunity to make saving throws for the next minute and a half,” Tobias said.  “That’s my first spell slot today.”

“Okay.”  Marco tipped over one of the goblin pawns.  “That one’s dead.  Cassie?”

“That one’s threatening Ax?”  She pointed at the pawn within the same square as the Smurf figurine.

“Yep.”

She nodded.  “Then I smash its head in with my mace.”  She rolled.  “Eight to hit, eight damage?”

“Oh yeah, you just annihilated that one.”

“Good, good, so now can I mace the one that attacked Rachel?”

“Cool your jets.”  Marco held up both hands.  “You don’t get to do multiple hulk-smashes in one round until several levels up from here.”

Cassie wilted a little.  “Okay.  But I want to run over next to that one to be ready to mace it soon.”

“All right, center goblin is going to try and swing his big old greatsword at Cassie as an attack of opportunity…” Marco rolled.  “And that’s a miss.  Rachel, you’re up.”

“I’m unconscious,” Rachel said.

Marco gave her a blank look.  “No you’re not.”

“Yes she is,” Ax said.  “You just allowed that goblin— gob-blin? Goo-blin? —to stab her.”

“I did not allow— The dice—”  Marco took a deep breath.  “Rachel, you only took two points of damage.  Go ahead and make a turn.”

“Okay, you clearly said…” Rachel glanced at her own notes.  “That the goblin stuck its sword through my upper thigh.  And apparently these are pretty big swords.  No way in hell that misses the artery, not if I’m only about human-sized at the time.  You also said that the goblin has its sword back, which means it pulled the sword out, which means that by now I have definitely lost enough blood to be unconscious.  It’s just basic logic.”

Marco opened his mouth halfway.  “That’s not how damage functions in this game,” he said at last.

“No, she’s right,” Jake said.  “She wouldn’t necessarily be dead from blood loss by now, but on the super-narrow chance she’s still conscious, she’s not going to have the, like, grip strength to be shooting people with arrows or anything.  That’s just how getting stabbed works.”

“Actually…” Tobias looked up from where he was sorting his flash cards of wizard spells.  “In combat time, each turn is six seconds.  So it hasn’t been five minutes of game-time.  It’s been less than three seconds.”

“So this goblin managed to stick its sword all the way through me, pull it loose, and then get back into position to make a different attack in less than a second?” Rachel said.  “And I don’t need to take a second or two to react to having been stabbed?”

“Yes!” Tobias said.

“This game is not closely aligned with the timing and functions of real combat,” Ax pointed out.

Marco let out a noise somewhere between a sigh and a shriek.  “No shit, Sherlock!  Can we please just play by the rules?”

“I’m just saying it’s not realistic,” Rachel muttered.  “You get run through the leg with a sword, you bleed to death.  That’s how it goes.”

“Would you please shoot someone already?” Marco said.

“If you insist.”

At Level Two, Tobias’s gnome wizard joined the School of Divination for exactly one game.  “He’s rules-lawyering things that haven’t even happened yet,” Marco cried, throwing out his hands like this was the greatest injustice ever visited upon humanity.   At which point Tobias decided that discretion was the better part of valor and switched to the School of Evocation.  Marco’s eye stopped twitching.

“No, no, no.”  Marco leaned over to look at Jake’s roll.  “You add your charisma modifier to your attack roll, and then your strength modifier to your damage roll.”

“So he adds twelve to his roll?”  Cassie looked at her own sheet.  “I add seventeen to my roll?”

“Modifier.  Not the whole stat.  Mod-if-i-er.”  Marco groaned loudly.  “Is Tobias the only one who even tried to read the manual?”

“C’mon, man.”  Jake shrugged, grinning.  “When have you ever known me to do the assigned reading?”

“I have Tobias here to summarize the manual for me,” Rachel pointed out.  “Why bother?”

“I did attempt to read the manual.  Man.  Well.  It was not the most boring human book ever written, but it was very repetitive.”  Ax glanced around at all of them.  “Not to say that all human books are bad, even if they are all repetitive,” he added quickly.  “Take the books of Harry Potter, which are acceptable in addition to being repetitive.”

“‘Acceptable’?”  Tobias shook his head.  “‘Repetitive’?  You, sir, are wounding my entire species — one of my species — Just don’t diss the Potter.”

“There’s no need to call me ‘sir,’ professor,” Ax intoned.

Laughing, Tobias leaned over to bump their shoulders together.  “I take it back.  I love you, Ax-man.  Never change.”

“Anyway,” Cassie said, “we elected Tobias party leader, so he’s the only one who really needs to know how to play, right?”

“‘Elected’ is a pretty strong word for it.  The way I remember it, I was like…”  Marco put on a deeper voice, “‘Who wants to be party leader?’ and Jake yelled ‘NOT IT’ so loud that he probably startled pigeons in the next county over.  And then Tobias was the first one to recover from the shock long enough to volunteer.”

“I didn’t yell it, I said it,” Jake mumbled.  “Said it enthusiastically.”

“And you’re wrong.  We did nose-goes.”  Rachel tapped her own nose to demonstrate.  “Tobias lost.”

Ax’s eyes widened.  “So you and Cassie covering your noses was a primitive selection procedure in the manner of duck-duck-goose?  I thought we were all simply being polite by hiding our hideous human orifices from one another.”

“Anyway,” Tobias said, “as party leader, I’m declaring that we can whine about noses — and bipedalism — at a later time.  For now, let’s play.”

“Ah, yes.”  Ax looked down at the dice, and then back up at Marco.  “Who was attacking whom, again?”

Marco stared around the board, and then back at the dice.  “Like I remember that now!”

It was a small miracle that they all kept showing up after that first week.  Tobias and Marco were the only ones with both the skill and the enthusiasm to be any good at the game.  Cassie and Rachel lacked the necessary motivation: Cassie tended to get lost in long conversations with NPCs and never advanced the plot at all, whereas Rachel was likely to start climbing the walls with impatience after half an hour of sitting still.  Ax and Jake were both reasonably enthusiastic but terrible: Jake paid no attention at all to the math, and Ax paid too much.  They had one set of dice between the six of them, if one was generous and called rolling a d6 twice the same as rolling a d12.  (It wasn’t, but Marco’s and Ax’s attempts to explain this always made everyone else’s eyes glaze over.)

Seriously, though, Marco knew perfectly well why they kept showing up.  And it had nothing to do with everyone getting on board with Tobias’s super-geeky idea.  They’d tried Dungeons and Dragons, and they hadn’t actually started liking it.

It had nothing to do with the storyline.  Or the dice.  Or the characters.  They weren’t here for swords or goblins.  They didn’t drop everything to spend four hours a week in each other’s company because they liked the game.

Duh.

Of course, even their love for each other could be tested, at times, by their sheer incompetence as players.

“We’re still in the undercave?” Jake groaned, looking at the game board.  “We’ve been down here for like six weeks!”

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re stuck.”  Rachel glared around the table.  “Because we keep trying to fight the ooze monster and then almost dying.  Because we suck at this game.”

“Still say there should’ve been illithids,” Tobias muttered.  “We’re in the cave of the illithids, but instead we’ve got apocalyptic ooze where there isn’t supposed to be any.  That’s why we’re stuck.”

Marco sighed into his hands.  “For the last time, man, we’re not having any stupid mind flayers in this game.  There is a way out, I promise you, if you guys would just stop and figure it out.”

“I stab the ooze?” Cassie suggested.

“You take fourteen acid damage and permanently blunt your sword.”  Marco didn’t bother to look up.  “Just like last time.”

“Ugh.”  Cassie wrote down her new HP.  “At least I ruled out repeated stabbing as a way out?”

“Okay, okay.”  Jake stared at the game board, yet again failing to take the this map not to scale memo.  “We can figure this out.  Is it a cave kind of like those caves under Leeran?”

Marco lifted his head, tossing his hair out of his face.  “I got schlooped back to Earth before you guys got to see those, remember?”

“They were very beautiful,” Ax said, “and also full of toxic eels.  So perhaps Prince Jake’s comparison is apt.”

“The real toxic eel is the friends we made along the way.”  Rachel tilted her chair back, picking at her manicure.  “Think we should just call it a day?”

“No, no, Jake’s right.”  Cassie stared at the board.  “I believe in us.”

“It was kinda cool in the Leeran caves, so sorry you missed it,” Jake said to Marco.  “I was dead and missed the Battle of Trafalgar, though, so it all balances out?”

“The Battle of Trafalgar was not cool at all.”  Marco rolled his eyes.  “It was a battle.  It was gross and loud and bloody.  Is no one going to try anything else?”

“I pull out my rope and my flint, I set the rope on fire, we all die of smoke inhalation,” Rachel drawled.  “There, I got us out of the cave.”

“And into the afterlife,” Ax said solemnly.  “If, indeed, this game has an afterlife.  It was designed by humans, so I assume… Soom.  That it must.”

“Look, if we could just fight the mind flayer instead,” Tobias said, “there are clear strategies in place for how to fend off psychic attacks, and even if a few of us end up as mind-witnesses we could still use a handful of different spells—”  He swung his copy of the manual around to face Marco, pointing to a spot low on the open page.  “If you’ll just look at what the book says…”

Marco slammed the book shut, hard.

Tobias had to yank his hand back to avoid smashed fingers.  “Watch it!” he snapped.

“Guys,” Jake said.  “Let’s—”

“Rule.  Zero.”  Marco flattened a hand on top of the closed book.  “I’m the DM here, and I get to say that there are no mind flayers and definitely no mind witnesses, because I say so.  I’m the Ellimist of this little universe, and you don’t get a counter-argument.”

Rachel snorted loudly.  “Bad comparison.  Tobias argues with the real Ellimist all the time.”

“Only when he’s doing something stupid.”  Tobias was looking at Marco, not at her.  “Or breaking the rules of his own game.”

“Tobias…”  Jake inhaled slowly, massaging the bridge of his nose.  “It’s just a game, okay?  Marco… We are kinda stuck, dude, no offense.  Couldn’t we at least try to fight whatever it is Tobias wants, see if that gets us out of here?”

Marco pushed to his feet, face flushed.  “I’m running this game, because you people decided I should.  And I don’t give a fuck how much Bird-Boy complains, this game is not going to involve anyone getting psychically mind-controlled.  It will not feature alien tadpoles that crawl inside people’s brains and take over their bodies.”  He swept a hand across the board.  “There will be no illithids, there will be no brain golems, there will be no controllers—”

Marco snapped his mouth shut.

There was a long silence.  Tobias stared at the floor.

“Mind-witnesses,” Marco said at last.  “I meant mind-witnesses.”

THUNK.

Figurines and dice scattered everywhere.  The play-dough lump of ooze flattened underneath the second game board Cassie had just dropped on top of the first.

“Anyway,” she said, giving everyone an embarrassed smile.  “How about we switch to Monopoly for a while?”

“I call being the little dog piece,” Rachel said, pulling the box open.

“I’m sorry,” Tobias whispered to Marco, as Ax began clattering through the pieces and asking Jake questions.  “I didn’t mean…”

“Yeah.”  Marco pulled the bank toward him and counting out notes.  “Same here, man.  Uh, y’know.  Sorry I…”

“We’re cool.  We’re cool?”

“Yeah.  Yeah.”

“Does this highly successful roll mean I have first chance to stab Income Tax with my—”  Ax squinted at his game piece “—car?  So I’ll be attempting to inflict damage on Income Tax by running it over?”

“Many have tried that strategy,” Rachel intoned.  “None have succeeded so far.”

“You know that your beloved manual lists exactly the same stats for hawks, eagles, and owls, right?” Marco asked, grinning evilly.

“What?  No.”  Tobias frantically flipped toward the back of the book.

“Anyway, is he right?” Cassie asked as Tobias searched.  “Are we all supposed to be dead right now?”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Marco said.  “Yes, the explosion would have done a lot of damage to all of you—”

“Thanks, Jake,” Rachel snarked.

Jake sighed loudly.  “How was I supposed to know you had to throw the hand grenade after you pulled the pin?”

“You mean the part where Ax and Tobias were both yelling ‘toss it, toss it,’ and you were like ‘no, I’m gonna do an investigation check first’?” she said.  “And then we all died?”

“Actually, I believe Cassie was raging at the time when the ceiling fell on us all,” Ax said.  “Therefore, her damage would be halved.”

“Hell yeah!”  Cassie laughed.  “So it’s just…”  She peered at Marco’s roll and winced.  “Everyone else… in the entire party… who automatically failed a death check.  Right, Tobias?”

“No,” Marco said loudly, “because Jake cast Teleportation Circle and got you all out of there before the ceiling fell.”

“But Tobias believes that that would be allowing too many actions on a single turn.  Uurn.  Earn,” Ax said.  “And that Jake wouldn’t have time to set up the circle even if he did have a bonus action left.”

“For fuck’s sake, do you want to end on a total party kill?” Marco demanded.

Rachel smiled sweetly.  “It’s not a TPK if Cassie’s still alive.”

Marco rolled his eyes.  “Oh, in that case—”

“Oh my god, you’re right!”  Tobias sounded outraged.

“Am I dead?”  Rachel pouted.  “Just when this stupid game was starting to grow on me.”

“No, not that.”  Tobias stabbed a finger on the page.  “It says right here.  ‘For hawk, see: eagle.’  It fucking classifies hawks as a fucking subspecies of eagle!”

“What were you just saying about us following the manual at the expense of our lives?” Marco said smugly.

Tobias stared in betrayed horror at the page for another second.  And then he tossed the entire book clear over his shoulder and out of the room.  It clattered loudly in the hall.

“So as I was saying, Jake cast Teleportation Circle,” Marco said.  “And teleported you all out of there.”

“So we’re… not dead?” Cassie asked.

“Given the nature of teleportation, perhaps we are both dead and not, existing in the gap between states,” Ax said.  “Like when our consciousness was trapped in z-space, and yet our matter remained on Earth.  Or we exist in multiple universes at once, some in which we have died and some in which we yet live.”

“Yeah, cool, Schrödinger’s party,” Rachel said.  “Blah, blah.  Anyway, I’m gonna punch Jake in the arm for being a dumbass.  In-game and out-of-game.”

“Good luck with that.”  Marco cackled his evil DM cackle.  “The only universe I care about is the one where the whole lot of you give me an initiative roll.  Because I didn’t say Jake teleported you to a safe location, just a different one.”

[melforbes]

seaglass blue annotations

hello! i just posted the last chapter and thought i’d put together some ~fun context~ for that fic. it got way way more attention than i ever expected and for something i feel i didn’t put that much effort into i think i did in the end put a lot of effort into it so i might as well talk about it and answer some potential questions.

my favorite book of all time is the sunlit night by rebecca dinerstein (yes, that one) and something i find really compelling about that book is how sparing the prose is, forcing the reader to fill in certain gaps, and i think having to fill in those gaps makes the book a really acquired taste with which either you love it or hate it and there’s not really an in-between

i also really adore how in that book the natural world backdrop comes to life, something i find really challenging to write. recently i even read into thin air, the book about the 1996 mount everest disaster, and even though the writing was superb, i still had to google what the hillary step was because i couldn’t picture it on my own. i don’t know how people write nature because to me it feels damn near impossible, but this sparing approach really worked, so i thought i might try it out. i tend to be longwinded (gestures vaguely at this post) and wanted to have certain parts of this be a lot smaller and more contained without negating impact. whether or not i made it work is anyone’s guess. definitely not my normal style, so to speak

based on the comments i’ve received i think this might be everyone’s favorite part. in my mind age of consent by new order was playing in the background. in pretty much every fic i have a scene like this one and all of them are based on the poem first base gold by rh*annon mcg*vin from her book branches (censored because she has a tumblr and i don’t want her seeing this haha)

i absolutely can’t do the poem justice by describing what it’s about, but the simplest, most basic interpretation of the poem is that there is no better place to kiss than right here, right now, because of the past. i really like that imagery and tend to use it a lot. she as a writer has been a big inspiration for me and if you’ve read my fic true minds i should add that the nonfiction inspiration for that was directly as a result of one of her youtube videos. i particularly love how the last paragraph (stanza? im not a poet) is one big run-on sentence that’s jovial and tongue-in-cheek and colloquial and straightforward. it feels triumphant in a quiet way to me and i love how it’s done. obviously my attempts at something similar are nowhere near as insightful, but still, the most basic image of this is that there is no better place to kiss, and that’s how i felt about the two of them finding pudding in the supermarket

this part is autobiographical; while writing this last year, i went through six months of intravenous drug treatment, a month and a half of which involved long days of doctor visits on every weekday. when you’re on stuff like that for a long time you end up with a central line for better access (potential plot hole in all of this: scully never had one) but for a month and a half i got poked almost every day and strangely enough it got harder over time. the first couple you never feel, but a week or two later you start flinching, and if the needle goes in the same vein each time, it hurts the more it gets prodded. i reached a point toward the end of the in-office visits in which i would bleed a lot every time i got poked, and i can’t watch anything like that happen to me so i was looking away each time, and when i felt that the nurse was done, i would look back over, and sometimes i would be looking down at a pool of blood that i hadn’t expected to see. it’s weird, you don’t actually feel yourself bleeding, i would’ve expected a hot bloody feeling but instead it felt like nothing. and when i say a pool i mean that it would drip down beneath my elbow, stain the sheet they’d put underneath, and i wouldn’t get all of it off until i showered. i didn’t necessarily find it scary, but it was surreal and kind of pulled me out of normalizing the experience i was having. for a very long time needing iv drugs was my greatest fear and i was surrounded by that then and fine, and then, there was blood all over my arm, and like, haha, this is actually not fine. you’d think something else would’ve been scarier, but it wasn’t. and now looking back at this paragraph i wish i’d edited it differently but hey that’s life

i’d never really understood the purpose of religion as a self-driven part of life until i took anatomy in college. i was raised catholic and though culturally i understand having a religion and being raised with one, i’ve never really reached for religion when i wanted answers, and i haven’t personally understood why that’s someone’s first option. and i know there’s been plenty of commentary on the hypocrisy of dana scully as a catholic who believes in science, yada yada yada, i think everyone has read all of that by now. but what struck me while learning anatomy is that there is a kind of neuron we don’t know the function of. there are four kinds of neurons, and one of them is still a mystery to us. and then, there’s all of these different parts of human bodies that exist in a certain perfect way, but why do they exist like that? to support life, yes, but why is it that we can make comparisons? why were irises not the same color? and we name valves of the heart after religious figures. we are so hell-bent on meaning that something literal will never be enough. and all of that made me think that dana scully has god to fill in what science won’t answer, at least not yet. and there’s definitely a bigger conversation about science as denial of indigenous cultures that i am nowhere near qualified to start. after taking those classes, i think i would be more shocked if she wasn’t religious. you can ignore pretty much all of the paragraph above but it was important to me that at some point in this fic she willingly conceded that she didn’t know what would happen and that she didn’t have answers. with illness, there is no logic, there’s no thinking your way out of it, and i think that would plague her for a long time. to me, she only would accept her death when she could say she had no idea what would happen, she has no answers, there’s nothing filling in her gaps anymore, and she’s comfortable with that. and i put all of that in a paragraph about my thoughts on god because it made sense to me. there are times that just feel like you’re in a movie and there’s no one else you can say caused them. it’s not enough to build belief on but it’s enough to bring a certain kind of wonder. also one time my parents insisted on watching stripes because it was so funny and when watching it none of us found it funny at all and my parents grimaced and were like what were we on that made that good back in the day so that’s in here now haha

and now, the biggest question: does she die at the end? when i came up with the idea for this fic, i knew the beginning and ending but not the middle, and i posted this as a smaller project (ie: chapters below 3,000 words) while illness made my bigger projects harder to work on and essentially flew by the seat of my pants the whole time. i wrote the last line a long long time ago and have always seen the ending as written as the concrete ending. when i started writing this, i never intended for there to be a definitive answer to whether or not she dies. i like premature endings (the ending of girls burn brighter comes to mind) and i think that this works better without saying whether or not she lives. and i also have a hard time with giving a definitive answer because this fic very much is about death and having her die would, of course, be traumatic, but showing her living instead i think ruins any takeaways people could have. i’ve never had cancer but as a chronically ill person i think i can speak to how you never actually win with illness; the best you can do is tie, and sometimes, no matter how much effort you put in, you “lose” anyway, you lose spectacularly, and all of your effort was for nothing. i wholeheartedly believe that humans can’t emotionally or logically process natural disasters or illness, hence why much of the talk about illness in this is from mulder’s perspective as he experiences her terminal illness secondhand; that way, he doesn’t need to (but still likely will) find logic or reason or meaning for death from a terminal illness, so his discoveries and his coping mechanisms aren’t as urgently needed. had i written a chapter that describes how she lives, i think that the discussion of death in this would be voided altogether. and i also don’t believe the ending would be much different whether she lives or dies; there’s still the need for death acceptance and talking about dying, whether or not she lives, and none of the story in this fic would have happened had the characters known she would live. the whole point is not knowing.

for a little while i toyed with writing an unofficial sequel of sorts in which i spelled out what i think happens after the ending, but after realizing that that would end up being longer than the original fic and would also have some massive plot holes, i decided against it. i do have my own version and i don’t want to share that version because i never really intended for my version to be some kind of genuine sequel in which every question gets answered and everything is wrapped up and happy ever after and whatnot. it was just where my brain wandered in the same way it wanders when i watch an open-ended movie. all of that to say, if you think she lives, then she lives. if you think she dies, then she dies. it’s your decision. i’d much rather you choose than me. i never marked this as “major character” death on ao3 because, well, she doesn’t die in this fic. whether or not she dies after the fic ends, that’s for you to decide. 

thank you for taking the time to read my writing. i never expected this to blow up (it blew up for me at least, for a while it was my most popular fic ever, with i think thousands more hits than anything else i’d written) and the response has been mind-boggling and wonderful. i don’t respond to comments often because it makes me feel like a pompous jerk (”thank you for enjoying this! i, too, enjoy this thing i have written! oh ho ho!” is how it sounds to me in my head, whereas when other writers respond to comments to me it just looks like thanks man have a good day, feel free to call me a weenie) but i’ve appreciated all of them very much. THANK YOU! i hope your new year is a Whole Lot Less Shit than 2020. i don’t plan on writing more msr because i don’t really have any ideas for them. thank you for making my last time special <3

[atariince]

Anathema - Chapter 14: New Strings

You can find the complete fanfiction on SWG or AO3 (and a bit late for the Fëanorian week, but oh well)

The Fëanorian lords shamelessly play with their influence in Nargothrond… Finrod, and to a lesser extent Celebrimbor, are confused.

He could already hear the echoes of their cheering.

Already the smell of mirth and relief. Of gratitude and of something that resembled hope.

And he knew it was real, not the fruit of his delusional dreams.

“Hurray ! Hurray! May the glory of the Sons of Fëanor shine !”

And as they got closer, their horses’ hooves carefully and slowly finding their way between the heaps of grass that stood between them and the Gates of Nargothrond, Curufinwë glanced at his brother beside him. There was a wide smile on Tyelkormo’s face, and on his cheeks, wrinkles of pride seemed to merge with the spots of dry blood. A thick, black blood which was not his own.

“Are you ready, brother?” asked Tyelkormo as soon as he caught his little brother’s gaze on him.

Curufinwë turned his head to look in front of him again, his eyes falling on the crowd standing in the pale daylight. His fingers tightened on the reins, his mare slew down and came to a halt.

“Not now, Curvo…” mumbled his brother, and the few steps between them couldn't keep Curufinwë from catching the slight irritation in his voice.

He tightened his thighs, and the mare instantly set forth, a slow trot to catch up with Tyelkormo, who whistled a couple of times. The hounds, who had been lazily following them since they had left the fields of Tumhalad and the tinkling melody of the waters of Ginglith, gathered around them. All but one. Huan, at his master’s demand, was taking a few steps ahead, running happily towards the gates and barking loudly as to announce the arrival of the lords.

Useless, as the people in front of the Caves had caught the sight of them many miles before, and since then, the crowd had never stopped growing, bringing together both dignitaries and servants, Ñoldor and Sindar. And amongst them, standing proudly at the midst of this joyful group, his son.

Tyelperinquar moved forwards to welcome the giant hound, patted his huge head with a smile, and when his eyes moved back on his approaching father, this same smile hadn’t left his lips.

There was a pang in Curufinwë’s chest. His lips trembled a little, but he couldn’t keep his own smile hidden any longer.

“What a glorious idea you had Curvo, to send Tyelperinquar ahead so he could tell them what happened and announce our return.”

“Not my idea, Turco. His.”

The only idea he could be praised for was that of this hunting party. His primary feat had been to convince his son to join them. Yet now that he looked back on it, he wondered if Tyelperinquar had really needed to be convinced in the first place.

Beneath the leather of his gloves, his own skin was burning. Thousands of needles piercing the severed flesh as he tightly held the reins.

But he was used to it now.

“Hurray! May the light of Arda shine upon our lords !”

The cries of bliss didn’t dwindle, and the excitement and relief in their eyes was becoming clearer as the two brothers got closer.

They dismounted, and Tyelperinquar walked up to them, closely followed by two of their people who immediately caught the reins of their horses and took them to the stables for a few well deserved cares.

“You are late”, laughed Tyelperinquar. “The whole of Nargothrond has been expecting you since last night.”

“Your uncle needed his ankle to be tended”, answered Curufinwë. “We had to make one last halt before we left Tumhalad for good.”

“My ankle is perfectly fine!” retorted Tyelkormo, circling them with a few strides. “See? not a single limp.”

Curufinwë and his son shared a conniving look.

“I am glad to see you, father.”

A slight bow of his head, that was the only answer he managed to give. And already, the people of Nargothrond were gathering around them, their cries of joy turning into songs.

O fell wolves who roam the wood

Beware the blow of their mighty blade

Doomed demons see their dark mood

For their fiery force shall never fade.

No fiend the kin of Fëanor shall fear,

Lords of light in wrath shall lead

A hopeful hunt in a haunted sphere,

For their famous feat we pour some mead !

“I could do with some mead, indeed!” cried Tyelkormo who seemed to delight in the praises.

And as he stepped amongst them, accepting the grateful pats on his back with loud laughter, Curufinwë stepped aside the euphoria, although he too could feel the waves of a new warmth caressing the edges of his heart.

Tyelperinquar hadn’t left his side, nor had his smile left his face.

“Where is the king? ”Curufinwë asked quietly.

The only answer he received was a questioning look, followed by a shrug. But Curufinwë barely noticed it, his mind already picturing the frustrating face of his noble cousin. His jaw relaxed and the severity of his face decreased, giving way to a peaceful lustre as he joined his brother amidst the crowd.

“I really do not understand what all this fuss is about”, said Tyelkormo, raising a brow between two sips, “after all, we simply slay a dozen of beasts, which had not even reached the neighbouring lands…. Nothing exceptional.”

Curufinwë was watching him, fingers dancing on the edge of his goblet. And so his brother continued:

“Mind you, Curvo, I am not complaining about the praises and whatnot, a well-deserved acknowledgement of our strains, at last ! But, still…can we call that our greatest feat… ? besides, it is not like we never hunted down those fiends before…”

Cooped in a small and comfortable room, happily away from the blissful agitation that reigned in the caves, the three Ñoldor were enjoying the evening. After a long bath and a longer moment of deep meditation, alone in front of his mirror, Curufinwë had eventually joined the festivities of the main hall where he had vainly expected to see the king. Without the satisfaction of seeing his reaction, there had been nothing much tot do but to find a quiet place where he, his brother and hi son would be able to put the situation into perspective.

“They do not care,” he answered, resting his elbows on the table. “They only want to know they are safe, nothing more. How we keep them safe, the dangers we face, or even the true nature of the threats… it interests them little. They just need to know they can breathe light-heartedly. And I cannot blame them… most of this people has already seen too much–”

“And have we not seen too much as well…?” asked Tyelperinquar hastily, cutting off his father’s speech.

The young Ñoldo had been quiet the whole evening, and although he was still bearing a genuine smile each time his gaze met that of his father, there has been something in his eyes which Curufinwë couldn’t decipher. The shadow of a doubt, perhaps, the distant echo of suspicion.

“Indeed”, his father replied, “yet we are their lords, and as such we are expected to shield them against such evils.”

“But most of them are warriors too, most of them can fight.”

“Tyelperinquar is right, Curvo.” Tyelkormo had finally put down his cup, obviously decided to take part in the discussion. “The people of Nargothrond fought before, they can – they will – do it again.”

Curufinwë’s eyes travelled from his brother to his son for a moment. He had a head start on them, but they didn’t know it. And that was for the best.

“They do not want to,” he simply said, rubbing his palms together. “And that is precisely where we step in, for their unwillingness to fight is both our chance and our bane.”

“What do you mean, father?”

The cloud in Tyelperinquar’s eyes seemed to thicken, and Curufinwë looked away. He laid back in his chair and managed to smile. A trembling smile, but a sympathetic one.

“Nothing. At least, for now. There is a lot of work to do.”

Tyelperinquar frowned a little, but he said nothing more. As for Tyelkormo he seemed lost in his own thoughts, eyes fixed on his goblet.

The light around them flickered a bit, as a deep and strangely peaceful silence fell over the room. They could hear the voices behind the door, the singing and hand-clapping. The caves felt warmer than ever, at least since the Fëanorians had settled in, more than eight years before.

“How is Huan?” Suddenly asked Tyelperinquar. “I did not see him tonight.”

“My boy is resting, too content with the large leg of lamb he had for dinner to bother himself with us.” Pride was cheerfully dancing on Tyelkormo’s eyes as he answered. “The hounds are exhausted, but none of them is seriously hurt.”

“Thank Eru,” smiled Tyelperinquar.

“Tyelko,” called Curufinwë with a gentle voice, “do you remember that hunt with Tauros’ host, when Huan called you on your eagerness ?”

A loud laughter escaped his brother’s lips, and he tossed his head backward and shifted on his seat.

“If I remember it? He would not let me go after that boar!”

“You lacked precision, and patience.”

“Huan taught me patience.”

“Did he really?” Asked Curufinwë, raising a sceptical brow.

“Oh come on, brother! I was still young; don’t you tell me I have not learned from those mistakes!”

Tyelperinquar was eagerly listening to the joyful recollection. His father was watching him from the corner of his eyes when he saw his son’s smile getting wider and the clouds in his eyes getting thinner. He carried on with the easing memories.

“Even Irissë would blame you for losing tracks of the beast.”

“Irissë would have blamed her own mother if only to avoid questioning her own skills.”

“There was not much to question about her skills.”

A pause. The two bothers looked into each other eyes, nostalgia, affection, and playfulness mingling in their gaze And suddenly this acrid pang again, right in his plexus, like a harsh blow in his chest. Curufinwë held his breath.

“She used to be a mighty hunter,” said Tyelkormo after a moment. “She would always manage to get the better of me.”

Finally, Curufinwë took a deep breath. It was painful, the air running through the tensed throat and reaching his stiff chest.

Tyelperinquar had lowered his head, and from where he stood, Curufinwë could only see his frowning brow behind the dark curtain of his hair.

He couldn’t let this happen. Not now. Not when all seemed to go so well.

“Tyelperinquar, you know this lovely necklace you made for the celebration of her begetting day?”

“What about it ?“ he whispered, slowly raising up his gaze. “I was but a child then, there was nothing lovely about it…”

Curufinwë gave a gentle smile. “It was one of the first pieces you actually completed. And she loved it.”

“Did she?”

“Oh yes!” barked Tyelkormo excitedly. “Even your mother was jealous for not getting a similar gift.”

Curufinwë winced. Why?

He closed his eyes a few seconds, and this time, the silence that swallowed the room was painfully awkward. When he looked again, Tyelperinquar had lowered his head, hiding again behind the thick, dark threads.

“I know for sure that Aulë himself was impressed,” tried Curufinwë, his voice but a soft and quiet murmur.

No reaction from either side. He sighed.

Tyelkormo picked up his glass and hide his nose into it as long as he could.

I meant not to mention her, Curvo… forgive me.

The thought was coming from Tyelkormo. Curufinwë did not even begin to give the semblance of an answer, but he didn’t want to believe that all that he was building would eventually crumble like this. His life couldn’t become a mere heap of ruins. Not yet.

“May I go, father? I… am exhausted.”

Curufinwë gave a slow nod, and soon after his son had left the room. Now, he could see his brother was avoiding meeting his gaze, although he had lost nothing of his confident countenance.

Any reproach would be useless, Curufinwë knew that; a dirty compress on an infected wound.

“Curvo…”

“Not now.”

“No, I mean… you did a great job.”

He froze, unsure and confused. His questioning look didn’t bring any answer; no matter what Tyelkormo was referring to, he seemingly had no intention to make it clear.

Curufinwë grasped his goblet and emptied it with one quick sip, the warmth of the mead softly tickling his stomach.

“I did my best.”

“Good day, my lord.”

“The light of Varda be with you, lord Curufin.”

“Please my lord Curufin, take this with you, it will bring you much luck and happiness.”

“Enjoy your day, lord Curufin.”

So many bows, so many praises and respectful acknowledgements. Just like before, in Himlad. Just like it should have always been here, in Nargothrond.

His fingers toying with the trinket received from the hands of this young Elda with the lovely dress and the kind smile, he kept walking along the main corridor of the caves, and the shadow of a smile was floating on his lips. His chin was high, his eyes scanning the faces around, his senses sharpened by the lack of sleep. Only an occasional twitch of his left eye. Nothing to worry about. Nothing that would betray him.

As he opened the large door of the King’s office, he knew what to expect. And he was not disappointed.

Felagund was sitting behind his desk, aloof and grave, both of his hands resting flat in front of him. As soon as Curufinwë stepped in, a pinched smile appeared on his lips, but his eyes said nothing.

“Good morning, king Felagund… cousin,” said Curufinwë spiritedly.

“Curufinwë… I was not expecting you so early. Good morning to you.”

“I was told you expected to see me.”

“Indeed, indeed. I… I just believed you would have preferred to rest this morning, after those straining adventures of yours… about which must have been said since your return.”

Curufinwë sat down in the chair appointed for visitors, and relaxed a little, his eyes never living the king’s face.

“Oh, really?” he breathed. “And may I ask what was said.”

The king gestured vaguely, shaking his hand as to discard the question. “Mostly rumours, I guess. I would prefer to have first-hand information… from you. What news from the North, cousin?”

“Have you got no scouts to bring you this sort of information?” asked Curufinwë, arms now crossed over his chest.

“My scouts do not cross the limits of the realm, and I was told you fought in the fields far beyond the crossing of Narog and Ginglith. Is that true?”

Curufinwë didn’t bother answering. He took a deep breath and smiled. And so the king continued:

“I suppose I should thank you. This is why you came here so early… am I wrong, cousin?”

“Who am I to tell the king what to do?” Answered Curufinwë with a playful smirk.

The king gave out a loud sigh, in which Curufinwë could detect both frustration and confusion. “Listen, Curufinwë, I appreciate your effort to keep the realm safe, but there was no need to hunt beyond those borders… the beasts of the North never cross the fields of Tumhalad, and there is a good reason for that: they know my people would greet them with as so many arrows. Your feat may be impressive, and admirable… but I am afraid it was useless, cousin.”

A sharp laugh broke through Curufinwë’s lips. He would have clapped his hands if decency wasn’t keeping him from such sarcasm.

“Ooh, Findaráto… I greatly doubt your people is of the same mind. To be fair, O royal cousin, they all look profoundly relieved, and grateful to us for having rid the realm of those threats… at last!”

“Be careful, Curufinwë,” said the king quietly, looking down at his own fingers dancing slowly on his desk. “You are still a guest here, no matter how potent your words might ring over the council table.”

“A guest, indeed,” nodded Curufinwë gleefully, “but one who is not afraid to execute a duty the king should have contemplated long ago. And your people know that.”

“Did you not listen to me? “ Spat the king, suddenly standing up. “There was no real threat in Tumhalad!”

The shot had reached its target. Curufinwë was delighted.

“How do you explain then, the sudden contentment of your people, and the new lightness of their heart ?” he asked slowly, gently even, plainly enjoying the situation.

“They know nothing of what happens beyond the limits of their eyesight.”

Curufinwë gave a loud hiss, accompanied by a slight wince. “That is not a way to talk about one’s own people, O king.”

Felagund looked confused. He was obviously straining to pull himself together, but Curufinwë could not tell if his cousin had been expected the conversation to take this turn. The Fëanorian at least, was prepared.

Bringing his hands together, Felagund walked around his desk to stand behind his cousin’s chair, looking down at him as he would have done with a mongrel. “You can enjoy your fame while it lasts, Curufinwë, and delight in the little influence it will grant you. But do not expect much of it, for this will not endure. I know those lands, my lands, and I know our enemies. You have challenged the power of the north by trespassing those limits...”

“Do you really believe the enemy cares about your limits?” retorted Curufinwë, now serious again, a new severity imbuing his voice.

The king looked away, obviously pondering those words.

“Listen, Findaráto, all I wish for is the safety of this realm, and the happiness of our – your people. And what do you think they want?"

Felagund, it seemed, had noticed his cousin’s slip of tongue. Curufinwë could tell from the sharp light that sparkled for a second in his eyes.

“They want to protect their home….” mused the king, slowly walking back to his ornate chair and sitting down.

“And they already know about the fell beasts roaming around the borders of those lands, Findaráto. They know some actions must be taken; they know we cannot hide forever. They want to protect their home, instead of watching us blatantly lazing around in our gold.”

This was going too well. Much too well. Unless it was but another of Felagund’s tricks. Curufinwë was on guard, but showed nothing of it. His hand instinctively reached his pocket where he found that trinket again, and he fingered it absent-mindedly, waiting for the king to make up his mind.

“What are you really suggesting here, Curufinwë?”

“Nothing you cannot do, King Felagund,” he asserted with a smile which he kept as friendly as possible. “Give them a reason to believe that the king is ready to fight, that he will not hide any longer. That he would sacrifice anything to defeat their fears.”

Felagund was watching intently into his cousin’s eyes, his own fingers toying with his rings, mirroring Curufinwë’s movement.

“Do you really believe they no longer count on discretion? That they would actually fight again?

“Discretion is crucial, but what happened yesterday proved that they expect a more active involvement in this war… And in the meanwhile,” continued Curufinwë, preparing his last blow, “my brother, my son and I will keep on enjoying that little fame you mentioned earlier. That fame that stemmed from the acknowledgement of those who really wish and actually try to protect those lands.”

On that, he stood up, leaving the king at a loss (that he knew) and caring little for the silent resentment which had invaded the room.

“Curufinwë, wait,” came the king’s voice as he was opening the door, and there was nothing but silence and stillness for a moment. “Perhaps… you may be right.”

Curufinwë turned around and their eyes met again, intense and stern from both sides.

“Perhaps it has to do with… that foresight, the powerful feeling I had that I would…”

Curufinwë was all ears, still and waiting eagerly.

“I only told my sister about it, but now… I feel it is getting closer.”

He let Felagund talk, he had to let him reveal what was in his mind, what he had been hiding  for so long. He could see the words dancing silently on his cousin’s lips, hesitating. But Felagund swallowed them back.

Curufinwë sighed.

“Thank you for your advices, cousin, be they genuine or not,” said the king, taking a deep breath. “I will think about it. You may go.”

Curufinwë closed the heavy doors behind him and waited a few seconds, if only to make sure no more words would escape the king’s study.

A foresight?

“Look father, a young child put this lovely drawing on the threshold of you study. They did very well with that portrait of you. Do you see? They even included your sword here, and… is that a smile on your face ? how creative!

Curufinwë chuckled, and peaked at the child’s drawing. There was indeed a smile on his face.

“Be not so sarcastic, my son.”

“You are right, I am unfair; you have been smiling a lot more lately.”

“Have I?”

Tyelperinquar sat down beside his father, and he silently watched him rummage through the many scrolls covering the desk.

“You should take a break, father. It seems like you have not stepped out of this room for a whole week.”

Finally finding the parchment he was looking for, Curufinwë unrolled it, picked up a quill and started to amend it carefully.

“People are looking up to me. This is not the moment to disappoint them.”

“Perhaps”, answered Tyelperinquar thoughtfully, “but it does not mean you ought to accept duties which are not supposed to be yours. You do not need more influence in here, and you already have enough responsibilities.”

“You do not understand, Tyelperinquar.”

“Explain me then. Tell me why it is so important for you to control everything.”

Curufinwë froze, the tension in his shoulders waking up and sending flashes of pain along his back.

“Who talked of control?” he asked quietly, putting down the parchment. “I am barely trying to carry out all the things the king has been ignoring in the past few years.”

His son shook his head but gave no reply.

“Listen Tyelperinquar, I am covering ourselves here, that is all.”

“Stop treating me like a child!” he finally exploded, his fist hitting his father’s desk. “Artaresto  is younger than I, and he has been appointed vice regent of this realm! why can you not trust me? Why can you not let me know about your plans?”

“Is that what you want ? To become the vice regent of Nargothrond?” asked Curufinwë, an eyebrow raised, midway between sarcasm and sheer interest.

“I do not fancy this sort of power, father. You, more than anyone else, should know that by now.”

“What power do you fancy then, my child.”

“Enough, father!”

Curufinwë bent forward, moving slightly closer to his son, who would not look at him.

“I am serious, Tyelperinquar. You used the word power, and I would very much like to know what you put behind it.”

“This is not the point.”

“Knowledge.”

“What?”

“The power you seek. It is knowledge, is it not?”, asked Curufinwë, as in confidence.

There was a short silence, only troubled by the song of the fountain that adorned and refreshed the room.

“And you will not let me have it,” said Tyelperinquar, now looking straight into his father’s eyes.

“It is a dangerous power, son. Cruel even, to those who yearn for it.”

“How cruel was it to you?”

Curufinwë leaned back, and looked up at the ceiling, thoughtful. There was so much to say, and yet there was nothing he would say.

“Father, you always tell me I have much more to learn, but you keep on refusing to teach me more… pretending some sort of danger. Why? What do you fear? Tell me please!”

Caught by the trembling of Tyelperinquar’s voice, his gaze left the ceiling to fall back on his son’s pleading eyes. He was right: he was no longer a child.  There was strength, cunning and wisdom in him, and nothing in Arda would ever match the power of his fëa. Bright and fierce, a crystal piercing the darkness crawling around. Too bright maybe, for his father to behold.

What did he fear… ?

“Son of mine, I…” he marked a pause to take his breath, and at this very moment, Tyelkormo burst into the room, caring little for the interruption.

“Excellent news, Curvo !” he cried joyfully, striding to his brother’s desk. “Oh hello, dear nephew, how are you doing ? haven’t seen you for a while.”

“I am… fine”, answered Tyelperinquar. “Father and I were discussing his responsibilities.”

Curufinwë relaxed a little. Not enough, apparently.

“I see”, mused Tyelkormo, giving his brother a questioning look which Curufinwë preferred to ignore.  “Well, I guess this is a perfect timing to tell you what I have just learned, since it might eventually affect our responsibilities.”

Curufinwë suddenly sat up, all ears. “Did Canyorë learn anything?”

Tyelkormo answered with a nod, and a smile which was more meaningful than it looked.

“Wait… what has Canyorë got to do with all this?”, asked Tylperinquar.

Catching a chair and hastily straddling it, Tyelkormo started to speak with a low voice, but excitement sparkled within each words.

“There has been rumours among the people, Curvo...” he said, ‘rumours about the king and ooooh, I would not like to walk in his shoes right now.”

“Father, are you using Canyorë to spy on the people? Uncle, is that it? ”

“He is part of our people, Tyelperinquar. This is no spying…” answered Curvo calmly, slowly.

“Indeed”, Tyelkormo added, “he is just like any of them, like any inhabitant of Nargothrond listening to his neighbours, exchanging thoughts and opinions about…”

“He is one of your must trusted henchmen, uncle. Your friend.”

“And so what?” grumbled Tyelkormo. “What does it exactly change.”

“Everything!”

“Tyelperinquar, please,” called Curufinwë, now tired of the continuous interruption. “Your uncle has something to say.”

No reaction from his son, not even a frustrated sigh. Only this cloud, back in his eyes.

“Rumour has it,” whispered Tyelkormo, apparently glad to deliver the information at last, “that the king is hiding shamefully in his chambers, cowardly sneaking away from his people as to not face a truth he would be unwilling to face. Not my words, of course.”

The tension in Curufinwë’s shoulders vanished. Not that he was truly surprised, but he would not deny himself the warmth of a certain relief. He gazed at his son: still no reaction, but Curufinwë could tell he was listening carefully.

“Besides”, continued Tyelkormo, “our names might have been floating on many lips lately: comparisons might have been made between our reactivity, and the king’s…how did they say again? oh yes, his lethargic handling of the situation.”

Curufinwë managed to keep a neutral expression, but the flame of victory was already bubbling in his stomach.

“Well,” murmured Tyelperinquar after a moment, “I suppose it secures our presence here, which is… good. Although, it is all but fair for King Felagund. He did nothing wrong.”

“Did he not, really?” chuckled Tyelkormo.

Curufinwë didn’t say anything, but he noticed the confusion on his son’s face.

“It also means more work for you, father… you must be glad.”

“I shall do what I have to do.”

His answer didn’t seem to satisfy his son, but Tyelkormo looked delighted:

“Felagund had it coming, had he not, Curvo? One only reaps what ones sows. ”There was confidence and determination in his voice, and pride too. “As for ourselves we have nothing to be ashamed of; we took actions, we were successful, and that was exactly what they all expected.”

Curufinwë gave a nod, followed by a discreet but no less confident smile.

“I wonder yet,” began Tyelperinquar, his hand rubbing the tip of his chin, “Those rumours… where are they coming from ?”

“From the people, I suppose,” answered Tyelkormo genuinely. “I mean, they must have stemmed from their weariness, their worries, and were comforted by what we did in Tumhalad.”

Curufinwë kept silent. He grabbed a few scrolls in front of him and started to tidy up his desk. But Tyelperinquar wasn’t done with the subject.

“Those words they say about the king… they ring so harshly… too harshly maybe for a people who had so strongly believed in him. The flame of their angst must have been kindled somehow… by someone.”

Busy with his documents, inks, quills, and files, Curufinwë pretended not to notice the severe gaze that fell upon him.

“Who ever did this”, said Tyelkormo standing up and stretching his arms, “they surely had legit reasons. They were dissatisfied, and they spoke their mind.”

“Did they, really?” insisted the youngest Ñoldo, still staring at his father.

Curufinwë closed the box containing his favourites quills and stood up as well. He would not look at his son, not now, but he couldn’t keep on ignoring the tension. He smiled.

“Alright, let us see if there is anything we can do to assuage this imminent uproar“, he said. “We do not want those rumours to go gangrenous, do we?”

On that, he picked up his cloak and headed to the door, well-aware of his son’s intense glare upon his shoulder. They left.

“How did you do that, Curvo?” Asked Tyelkormo eventually as the two brothers were walking down the aisle that opened on the main hall, followed and greeted by kind and respectful faces, by words of trust and admiration.

“Do what?”

And Curufinwë smiled.

[melodiesofblueroses]

𝘋𝘳𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘳'𝘴 𝘓𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦

♡ ━Mystic Messenger, Headcanons

»»————————-　♡　————————-««

𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: Yoosung x reader, Zen x reader, Jumin x reader, Seven x reader

𝘎𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦: Fluff

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: the rfa boys helping their s/o practice for their driver’s test

𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘶𝘱: gn!reader

»»————-　♡　————-««

☆ Yoosung Kim

Yoosung himself doesn’t have a driver’s license rip

but of course he’ll help you practice (to the best of his ability)

he’s literally the sweetest bean

he probably tries to study up a bit on driving and parking techniques so that he can help you out

will sit in the passenger’s seat as you practice going around the neighborhood or parking in an empty parking lot

tries to give pointers when you’re driving but like, he never took the test so he has no idea how they grade you

even if it’s not that helpful, you appreciate the sentiment

but when it comes to the written portion, he’s got you covered

he will test you, create flashcards, anything you need

he’s so precious i swear-

when it’s test day, Yoosung will become your hype man

“you will definitely pass!! you’ve practiced so hard!”

if you fail, he’s right there by your side and consoles you, trying to convince you that it’s fine and you can always retake it

when you pass, however, he’ll give you the tightest hug and won’t stop congratulating you

he would be lying if he said he wasn’t happy that now he has someone to drive him around though

once you get your license, he’ll tag along for every ride, and i mean every ride, even if you’re just going to the grocery store to pick up something

also has you drive him to conventions or stores to pick up new dlcs and all

“y/nnn, let’s go out somewhere”

“but we have to study?”

»»————-　♡　————-««

♡ Zen

while Zen does have a license, he hasn’t driven a car in a long time

he usually walks to places or rides his motorcycle if he’s up to it

so he’s a bit useless,,but he’ll try his best to help as much as he can

can’t help you with the written portion though since he isn’t that good with studies, although he’ll try to help

it should be like memorizing a script, right?

unfortunately, he’ll probably give up after a few questions or so because this just couldn’t grab his attention

“i’m sorry honey, but i just can’t seem to focus on this”

“it’s fine Zen. you can go practice some of your lines if you want”

also seems to be a bit useless when it came to the driving portion

he knows how to ride a motorcycle just fine, but a car is an entirely different story

Zen will try to recall some of the things from his old driver’s test though, and he would definitely give a few pointers here and there

“you should slow down a bit when going into turns angel. you wouldn’t want to get into an accident like i did”

you’re on your own for most of the time though

when it was test day, he’ll text you good luck and a few flirty comments, which was nothing out of the norm but it did help alleviate your stress (he had rehearsal and couldn’t afford to skip it as much as he wanted to)

if you fail, you know he’s already there with chocolates or roses or whatnot to get you to cheer up

will probably cuddle you for a long time until you feel better

if you pass, he’ll also be there with flowers to celebrate the occasion 

while you don’t really drive him around that often (you two liked to walk to your places anyway), you two made it a hobby to drive around in the early morning hours, when everyone was still sleeping, and just enjoy the cool night air

the whole world seemed to stop and stay still, as if you two were the only ones on earth

»»————-　♡　————-««

✦ Jumin Han

Jumin and cars do not go well together

how this man has a license is one of the world’s greatest mysteries

when you first tell him that you’re studying for your driver’s test, his first response is

“why? driver Kim can drive you anywhere you want”

he’s confused but proud nonetheless

he wants to help, but Jumin knows next to nothing about how to drive a car, and quite frankly, you’re a bit terrified to get in the same car as him

Jumin will not hold back if you don’t tell him and will buy you the best driving instructors and manuals

he will do everything in his power to make sure you succeed

while you do appreciate the sentiment, you have to urge him to not spend too much, especially since you want to pass on your own accord

since Jumin is busy with paperwork and meetings and all, you usually study the written portion by yourself and have driver Kim accompany you for driving practice

on the day of the test, Jumin assures you that you have no reason to stress and ensures that you’ll do just fine 

honestly made you a bit more stressed because you think he had high expectations

if you do happen to fail, Jumin will reassure you, although he’s not exactly the best with words so it might end something like

“the average pass rate for the first time is below fifty percent” to reassure you that you are not alone

will take you out to dinner and overall make you feel like royalty to lift up your mood though

if you pass, Jumin congratulates you and, let’s be honest, probably tries to throw a party of sorts before you stop him

but the smile that he gives you is more than enough and probably makes you melt on the inside

while he does usually have driver Kim drop him off at places, on his off days, Jumin will most likely have you drive him around

not only does he get to spend more time with you, but he also gets to admire you from afar

honestly, one of his favorite pastimes is when you two just drive around town or something

sitting in silence while the world passes by you allows him to relax and puts his mind at ease

»»————-　♡　————-««

☾ Seven

this man loves his cars

i mean, do you see how many he owns?

overall, he just loves driving. it allows him to destress (although that involves breaking speed limit laws but i digress) and take his mind off of everything

if you ask him for help, he’s all for it

he’ll probably ditch work just to help you because Seven just loves driving that much

honestly isn’t much help when it comes to the writing portion because he’s just that good and you can’t seem to keep up with him

might take a bit of convincing to let you practice driving in one of his cars though

after all, you’re just a beginner and what if you dent his precious baby?

but...just one time won’t hurt, right?

he’s definitely the type to complain that you’re driving too slow even though you’re at speed limit

you’d be behind the wheel for a good few minutes before he shoos you and proclaims that he’ll show you how a real driver does it

“move over! I, 707, defender of justice, will show you how to perfectly parallel park!!”

“but i just got in the car five minutes ago-”

and then that practice session would end up as just a drive around the town and you would never end up behind the wheel again

you might fear for your life once or twice during the ride by how fast he drove

never again

when test day finally arrives, Seven tries to joke around but is also a bit serious?

wishes you good luck before you enter the dreaded testing car

if you fail, he jokes around a lot, especially since they’ve never failed to make you laugh before

“it’s alright~ you can always drive without a license as long as you don’t get caught!!”

please don’t take this man seriously

if you pass, expect a feast of phd pepper and honey buddha chips. this calls for a celebration after all

you actually won’t use your license that often, at least not with him

for one, Seven would always complain that you drive really slow even though you’re a law-abiding citizen

and secondly, Seven couldn’t really get out that much, not with his job and all

sometimes though, you two like to drive late out at night and just stargaze

he’d crack a ton of jokes and you’d laugh and laugh until your stomach started to ache

it was the perfect way to refresh for a new week

[swgoji2001]

My Thoughts on Jedi Fallen Order

So after upgrading to a new, stronger laptop (pretty sure my stupidity in attempting to run this game on my old laptop hastened its tragic, untimely demise), I finally finished Jedi Fallen Order last night. I had mixed feelings going into this game, as I have some friends who said it was amazing while others said it was a mediocre story with decent gameplay.

Now after playing, was it the greatest Star Wars game I’ve ever experienced? No, but it was very good. Some minor gripes here and there, but overall I had a blast playing the game.

Warning: Some spoilers will be included, I’ll try to keep them as minor as possible though.

Story:

So I’m not gonna go overly deep into the story as I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who still hasn’t played the game, but to be honest I found the plot of Fallen Order to be a bit generic at first. It’s a classic light side vs dark side narrative with a redemption arc or two sprinkled in. In fact, I found the plot of Fallen Order to be quite similar in structure to the Disney Trilogy. Both have MacGuffin hunts (holocron and wayfinder), both include journeys to different planets following the trail of someone else (Eno Cordova and that one assassin dude mentioned in IX), both have mentors who have distanced themselves from the Force (Cere and Luke), and both have antagonists who were failed by their masters (Trilla and Kylo). 

Fallen Order splits off from this more generic route after returning to Dathomir and does it’s own thing, but I found myself asking why I enjoyed the first 75% or so of Fallen Order when I absolutely hated the DT. I found the answer to lie mainly in two things: the characters and the world they found themselves in.

Characters:

Cal Kestis: I absolutely loved Cal’s character arc. He has his own deep personal struggles with his past, feeling responsible for the death of his master. He faces those fears and comes to terms with his past, determined to make a better future. Cal not only comes out of his journey a Jedi Knight, but as a stronger person. Compare this to Rey, who had no meaningful flaws or personal struggles. Plus Cal’s the first ginger Jedi! Score one for diversity!

BD-1: My fourth favorite Star Wars droid, only behind HK-47, KOTOR 2′s T3-M4, and K-2SO. He’s cute, adorable, and loyal to a fault. What more could you ask for in a droid? (Other than a tibanna-powered blaster rifle and a bloodthirsty, anti-meatbag personality of course!) Plus there’s a revelation about his history towards the end that only makes him better and better.

Cere Junda: Star Wars has always had its mentor characters, but in all honesty I found Cere to be pretty generic. A Jedi Master who failed her Padawan and touched the dark side, only to be horrified by it and renounce the Force. Throughout learning her story, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had already seen something like this before. Her arc isn’t bad, it’s well done and feels natural to her character, it was just rather generic.

Greez Dritus: Gotta say Greez grew on me as the game went on. He has his flaw in his gambling problem which bites Cal in the ass a couple times, but towards the end I really felt the connection between him and the others grow. He’s also the source of a good deal of humor.

Nightsister Merrin: Sadly, Merrin being an eventual ally was spoiled for me, but I love the subversion because it was built up that she would be an eventual boss fight. Merrin might be my favorite character besides Cal, I wish there were more interactions with her in game! She’s hot, has a great accent, a wicked sense of humor, and is powerful with Nightsister magick. But beyond all that, she’s a parallel to Cal. Both are survivors, the last of their kind, and I’m hoping that if a sequel is made, it goes deeper into their relationship because Merrin and Cal have great chemistry. I also love how Merrin challenges Cal and Cere’s plan to train the next gen of Jedi using the holocron, putting that idea in a more realistic, less idealistic light.

Prauf: I really feel bad for him. I liked him and you could feel the camaraderie between him and Cal, how he wanted Cal to succeed and do great things. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.

Oggdo Bogdo: Fuck this frog! He killed me so many times!

Trilla Suduri (Second Sister): The Jedi Padawan that felt betrayed by her master and became an inquisitor. I always love it when antagonists have a personal connection to the protagonists in some way, shape, or form. Trilla shakes Cal’s faith in Cere, and plants seeds of doubt in him. She wants revenge and the Emperor’s favor, and therefore we know why she chases Cal across the galaxy. She has motivations for all her actions, which is something that Kylo lacked in the DT.

Taron Malicos: I knew something was off about this guy the second I met him. I quite enjoyed the clash of beliefs between him, Merrin, and Cal. Malicos proposes a way forward, a new Jedi Order, but one founded on darker teachings. He offers Cal that power, but Cal proves his stature as a Jedi in refusing it.

Ninth Sister (Masana Tide): Probably the weakest of the villain characters for me. Ninth barely has any presence in the game at all other than the start and to serve as a boss battle on Kashyyyk. I honestly just don’t think she fits into the story as is. Perhaps if they tweaked it so that Ninth and Cal knew each other back before Order 66 she would have fit better. Ninth just doesn’t have any personal connection to Cal and the Mantis crew (like Trilla does) and doesn’t really serve as a trial like Malicos does. Remove her from the story and not much changes.

(If you somehow haven’t had this next one spoiled yet, I’m impressed. Please skip to ‘World’ if so)

Darth Vader: I absolutely loved how he was portrayed. A terrifying, unstoppable force. You won’t last in a fight with him, your can only hope you can outrun him.

World:

Fallen Order’s worldbuilding was on point. Cal’s ability to sense Force Echoes lets you get a more detailed understanding of the environment around you. It’s a small-scale Star Wars story, but the planets all feel lived in if you take the time to explore them. It’s the small details like the probe droid witnessing your initial use of the Force on Bracca or the side-stories you can discover like the tragic tale of the family running from the Empire on Zeffo or Malicos’ corruption and manipulation of Merrin that really flesh out the world. Compare this to the galactic-scale story the DT told, which somehow made the galaxy feel extremely small and uninteresting.

My only complaint with the world-building is the Zeffo. They’re just... there. Very little is explained about them. Who were they? Why were they important? What happened to them? Why did they disappear? Perhaps this was to leave room for a sequel but to me the Zeffo just felt like discount Rakata. I wish the devs had gone with the Rakata instead, but maybe that’s just me.

Also the wildlife on every world is more than capable of killing you if you aren’t careful so you almost always have to be on your toes for them, which rolls us into the next part...

Gameplay:

The gameplay was great fun in Fallen Order. Leveling up and unlocking new abilities was exciting and once I got the hang of them all, it was so much fun just cutting through your enemies. I played on Jedi Master difficulty (died approximately 75 times, give or take a few I may have missed) and it felt really well balanced. It forced me to study my opponent’s moves and adapt to them instead of being a hack-and-slash type of game. Combos are fluid and fun to pull off, parrying opponents leaves an opening to attack, and you can experiment with different fighting styles.

Customizing your lightsaber and appearance was also great fun. So many different options and combinations for everything! Plus you got rewarded for exploration with these extra customization options, so it adds incentive to do that if you care about appearances and whatnot. You can become the General Grievous of ponchos!

Overall Rating: 8.5/10

Overall Fallen Order was a great game that could have been even better. Of course I have to admit I’m looking at this through the nostalgia of games like KOTOR 2, which flipped Star Wars completely on its head. I would have preferred if Cere’s story had been a bit more nuanced, the Ninth Sister had more reason for being in the story, or if the game had Cal seriously question the use and role of Jedi in the galaxy (he does a couple times to BD-1, but it’s never really built on).

And then there’s my overall gripe about this type of story set after Order 66. It sets up questions like... where was Cal during the OT? Was he dead? Somewhere in the Unknown Regions doing something else? I know the ending of the game sets up the opening for Cal’s story to continue, but still, these types of stories usually end in death for the Jedi protagonist, so I am a bit nervous for his future.

Despite that though, I am super happy I finally decided to play this and am eagerly awaiting a sequel to continue this story.

[laserdog10]

Loneliness

”It’s not so bad not being in a league that suits me.”

It was a personal mantra that she told herself every day, even if it did kind of hurt. Citrus was born as both a Rose and an Arc, two powerful family bloodlines that were well renowned on Remnant by now, thanks to the defeat of Salem. However, Citrus’ elder siblings Garnet and Blossom, have been shown to be marginally stronger and almost gifted...or actually gifted. Garnet had inherited a portion of Ruby’s Spring Maiden magic on top of Jaune’s hefty Aura with the addition of a strong Semblance, while Blossom was a Silver Eyed Warrior, the greatest of all destined to slay Grimm and be the heroes of humanity. While Citrus was...just normal.

Yep, no insane powers, no off-the-wall weapon that has multiple transformations, no fancy Semblance (other than the ability to talk to animals), she was a normal girl who wanted to be a Huntress, like everyone her generation. However she felt an odd lonesome feeling inside her, when her brother and sister went off to Signal for the first time, Citrus was alone at home with her aunt Yang, grandpa Qrow, uncle Tai, and aunt Raven. If that wasn’t enough her Semblance let her speak to the family dog Zwei and the five wolves Ruby adopted, Drei, Vier, Funf, Sechs, and Null. And yet...she still had this emptiness in her heart. Well unlucky for her it was about to intensify that feeling tenfold as she was about to head to Signal tomorrow, the day after her siblings and cousin graduate. Right now it was well into the evening, the sun setting on the horizon, rays of light beaming down on the Rose-Arc & Xiao Long-Branwen residence, Citrus leaning against the railing, teetering her weighted collapsible scythe, Soulful Reave, back and forth, her emerald green eyes staring off into space, tangerine curled hair catching the wind.

Jaune: Someone’s a little broody.

Citrus: Hmm?! Oh, hi dad!

Jaune: Is Qrow’s mysterious edginess rubbing off on you or am I just reading too much into this?

Citrus: Pffft, nooo dad, I’m fine, thank you. Just...thinking, deep contemplation about the future.....

Jaune: Excited you’re going to Signal tomorrow?

Citrus: Heheheee, not really...?

Jaune: Why not?

Citrus: *stops teetering her scythe* Dad, do you think I’m...special?

Jaune: The “daddy loves his special girl” kind of special or...

Citrus: The special that’s meant for amazing things, I don’t feel like I am.

Jaune: Woah woah woah, what brought this on?!

Citrus: Nothing, I’m...*sigh* Dad, compared to Garnet and Blossom, I’m so bland! I have nothing truly remarkable about m-* her shoulders are held as she faces her father*

Jaune: Citrus, tell me what’s going on, is everything okay?

Citrus: I don’t think so...have you ever had the feeling of overwhelming loneliness and that you’re far behind people close to you?

Jaune: More than you could fathom, sweetheart. But that was a long time ago, and with a little bit of time, and the love from those people around me, it eventually went away. Why, is it the fact that your brother and sister are way ahead of you getting to you?

Citrus: *tears form in her eyes* Y-yeah, a lot...

Jaune: Oh, sweety. *he brings his small daughter into a huge hug* Believe me when I say that feeling is completely normal, your mother and I had this lonely, by-our-selves spell when we first went to Beacon.

Citrus: I just feel so out of place. I hear about all these kids who were raised by amazing Huntsmen, their amazing transforming weapons, and their powerful Semblances, then there’s me. Swinging around a simple scythe and talking to animals, no Maiden or S.E.W. powers...

Jaune: Citrus, look at me. *his gaze is met by the distraught, teary-eyed face of his daughter* All these feelings, all these issues you’re feeling right now are completely normal for a thirteen year old to experience! Think it like, you’re still going through your “character arc,” which always starts just as you turn thirteen. You’ll get to that important “climax” of your story some day.

Citrus: *sniff* R-really...?

Jaune: I know so. Now let’s go inside, dinner’s almost ready!

Citrus: I’ll head in a second, gotta go put Soulful Reave back in in the shed.

Such an action to her weapon would make her brother, proverbially, lose his mind, but she took good care of her scythe, occasionally but primarily leaving it in the room she shared with her siblings, like they do with their weapons. Tomorrow would be the first step into this “character arc” of hers, and she would tackle it however she could!

-The next day-

Strolling down the halls of Signal wasn’t so bad, she was old enough to be by herself while her parents weren’t too far off. Ruby had gone with the many other parents of new students to a little meeting, confirming their classes and whatnot, meanwhile Citrus wandered around Signal, her orange cloak flowing as she strolled along, seeing big metal lockers to hold plenty of supplies, classrooms, a library, and the cafeteria. What she didn’t expect to come across was a large crowd of kids clamoring around a board with a myriad of papers on it. Among this crowd the youngest Rose-Arc saw the red-patched blonde hair of her sister.

Citrus: Blossom? *she called over the talkative graduates*

Blossom: Hey baby sis! You here on your intro tour? *the blonde side-stepped through the moderate sea of teens, a few of which turned heads to the younger teen*

Citrus: Yep, mom just went with the other parents to that meeting! What are you doing over here with everyone?

Blossom: Seeing who got their academic success title.

Citrus: You’re what?

“An awesome title for how well you did in your classes!” chimed a female student.

Citrus: Oh, cool!

Blossom: Wanna guess what I got?

Citrus: I...don’t know what they are.

Blossom: Oh, well come look.

Taking a closer look at the board, Citrus saw this hefty list of names that made her head spin. So many names, numbers, scores, classes.

Citrus: This makes my brain hurt...

Blossom: Same here, and could you help me find my name, I’ve been helping everyone here find their’s for a while n-

Citrus: You got Salutatorian, Garnet got Valedictorian, and Lea’s below both of you!

Blossom: I’M WHAT?!

The students: THEY’RE WHAT!?

“I’m what now???” came a familiar voice behind the girls and the crowd. They turned to find Garnet himself, in the midst of eating a roll of cookie dough from the cafeteria. Without thinking the students swarmed him, barging questions left and right; “How are you so smart,” or “Please teach me your ways,” and “You’re amazing Garnet!”

Garnet: Woah, slow down guys, I’m not that great honest! I just studied and practiced like anyone else would.

“But you got Valedictorian, dude!!!” exclaimed a male student with very punk-rock hair.

“That’s an achievement in and off itself!” cheered a preppy looking girl.

“You’re a freaking prodigy, bro!!!!” cried a sporty, muscular lad.

Garnet: Alright, listen up everyone, I’m gonna give you some life advice you all need to hear. Trying to be like me is impossible, and I wouldn’t go as far as to say I’m a prodigy. Yes I have powers of a Maiden inherited from my mother, yes I have a massive amount of Aura and strong Semblance to boot, yes I also have multiple weapons and am highly skilled in using all of them. However that doesn’t place me above the rest of you, nor should it make you all downplay yourselves! You all have your strengths and weaknesses, but you shouldn’t strive to become like me, because I’m not perfect. Imitation is the cheapest form of flattery that mediocrity can pay in greatness. Don’t strive to be me, strive be a better you, because their can only be one of us in the world! And if you do find someone like you later in life...*claps hands* Then I got nothing. *awkwardly smiles*

His audience applauded, but mostly laughed at the perplexing finish to his speech. His sisters had their own reactions, Blossom shaking her head and smiling in a way that conveyed a “The fact I’m related to you is astonishing” feel, Citrus on the other hand was captivated. “Strive to be a better you,” this phrase alone struck many chords in her, to the point that the lonely feeling of hers dissipated somewhat...

“Ohhh yawn-a-fuckin’-rama! That was the cheesiest shit I’ve ever heard, One Armed Arc!”

The students instinctively winced at the sound of the boastful and snarky voice. Collectively looking to the source, a tall girl with long burnt-orange hair and indigo eyes, clad in gray armor with a gold trim, a jet black waist cloth on the tool belt around her. Strapped to her back in a sheath was a morning star mace, the signature and feared weapon wielded by Signal Academy’s tyrant.

Blossom: Carly Winchester...

Citrus: ...

Garnet: And why are you here?

Carly: No reason, except I just heard a one-armed loser spouting some bullshit and being humble. Face it, you could be running this school! And yet you choose to be weak, lumping yourselves with these peons who could get their asses reamed by you.

Blossom: Garnet isn’t weak!

Carly: Aww look, little Ms. Self-loathing wants to act all big and tough! Why don’t you can it and go cry on the roof like you always do.

Citrus: *grits teeth and clenches her fists*

Garnet: What I do doesn’t make me weak Carly, I-

Carly: OH FUCKING SPARE ME! Hearing your high and mighty “holier-than-thou” bullshit makes me sick, you have the powers of a damn GOD and look where you are!

Citrus: ...hat’s it to y... *mumbles*

Carly: Hmm what’s that Shorty, got some shit to say? If you don’t then butt the fuck out, the adults are tal-

Citrus: WHAT’S IT TO YOU!? All you ever do is hurt and scare people, that’s not power, that’s being a jerk!

Carly: You-!

Citrus, standing in front of Carly now: My big brother is more of a Hunter and leader than you could ever hope to be! All you are is a bully, a coward, and an absolute BITCH!!!

Everyone present gasped, Garnet and Blossom were shocked into silence. Calling Carly a bitch was something else entirely, but hearing it from Citrus, someone who had never sworn in her life?! Surely they must’ve been dreaming, right??? Obviously they weren’t, for Carly had looked around incredulous, thinking she had heard the orangenette right.

Carly: The fuck did you just say to me you little shit...?!

Citrus: You heard me, you’re nothing but a BI-!

Carly: SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!

The warrior girl screamed in tandem with swinging her mace directly down onto the smaller girl. The motion happened at such a speed, all that was seen was a shiny, gray blur kicking up dust and debris when it landed.

Garnet/Blossom: CITRUS!!!

The youngest Rose-Arc braced for the impact beforehand...but it never came. Instead when she opened her eyes, she was in a dust cloud, embraced by her cousin, Lea Xiao Long-Schnee, her giant gauntlets blocking the crushing blow.

Lea: Might I ask why the hell you are attacking my cousin, Carly? *she said in a low tone, pushing the warrior girl back a good few feet*

Carly: Mind telling me why your brat isn’t on her child leash?!

Lea: *eyes turning lilac, blue fire adorning her hair* I think Citrus is going to be the least of your worries right now...

Citrus stepped back, knowing full well what was coming next. Garnet walked past her but not before looking at his baby sister.

Garnet: Might wanna go get mom and the principal, this courtyards about to become a war zone. *he winked*

Carly targeted him first, her mace colliding with the boy’s head and sending him staggering. He regained his footing, readying his own gauntlets as Lea pounced on Carly, throwing her into one of the support columns in the courtyard, Garnet running up and landing jab after jab upon Carly. Blossom held Citrus’ hand as they ran off to find their mother before the situation got worse, as they ran they heard the unmistakable sound of the Maiden powers flaring from their brother and cousin.

Blossom: We’ll leave it to them to kick Carly’s butt.

Citrus: ...

Blossom: You okay?

Citrus: Yeah yeah, just thinking.

Blossom: You narrowly avoiding getting brained by an amazon brute???

Citrus: Well...besides that, but what Garnet said earlier.

Blossom: Oh that.

Citrus: It stuck with me, and...and I think it should solve all my problems.

Blossom: ...if you say so!

Seems her father was right, today was when her character arc would begin, and now she would walk through it with her head held high!

[whiskeyworen]

Thoughts on Kralkatorrik

Fair warning. Gonna be dealing with lots of spoilers from Season 4. These are just my musings and thoughts, so feel free to reject them. Most of this is coming from mulling a lot of stuff over and over in my head to make sense.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Kralkatorrik lately, and I’m starting to wonder if he’s possibly one of the most utterly tragic entities we’ve ever encountered in Guild Wars 2. The Elder Dragon of Rage and Crystal...being the most tragic, pitiable, and sad beings I’ve ever seen. I was thinking about how Glint mentioned that at some point in the past, Kralkatorrik had approached her, driven by a vision he wanted her to confirm or deny. It was the vision of a world without Elder Dragons, without him. She claimed that the concept terrified him and drove him into a rage, and whatnot. But I’m wondering about that, simply because of what we know from War Eternal, from his final confessions to the Commander and Aurene. About not fearing death, not fearing anything. So why did Glint say that he WAS afraid? It made me wonder.... when did he have that vision? Was it shortly before he spoke to Glint about it? Or was it further back in history, in the forgotten, unwritten ages? Which made me think further; Glint had the gift of prophecy. To look through the skeins of fate and see particular outcomes and work towards them. But she couldn’t see past a certain point, because that point did not include her in it. In fact, from the memory crystals we find in Path of Fire... when she met Destiny’s Edge, she was surprised: “These heroes are...not what I expected. Do they have the courage to endure what's coming? The will to drive it back? “ I think that’s because the group she DID expect was Dragon Watch...from further down the timestream. She knew it was a group of mortals coming, with a sylvari, a charr, a human, and an asura...among others perhaps...but the group before her didn’t look quite right. She misinterpreted her own vision, and as a result, Destiny’s Edge tried to fight Kralkatorrik too early. Glint and Snaff died as a result. But... Kralkatorrik, for all his size and power, could have easily smeared or branded Destiny’s Edge. He didn’t though. Rytlock talks about having been close enough to ‘blow kisses’ to Kralk, but Kralk didn’t end up killing them in the end. Because that wasn’t part of the grander Vision. Back to the point, we know Aurene has prophetic visions, and looked through multiple outcomes to try to find one where she and her allies didn’t die against Kralk. And failed. Because that was a historical point that HAD to be met and bypassed by something not shown. Which made me wonder... if Aurene is prophetic to a degree, and Glint moreso, to the point of seeing decades, centuries down the road with some degree of accuracy (not perfect but pretty good)... did that mean Kralkatorrik could as well? Could he, by extension, see extremely FAR down the road, but perhaps not have the refinement to see any other paths? I suddenly had this idea that Kralkatorrik, in the far ancient past before he became the Moving Mountain Range of a Dragon, possibly when he first evolved up to a more powerful state, had had the greatest, deepest, and longest Vision. One that he saw all the way to the end of his own life, so many millennia down the road. And that it didn’t terrify him. It didn’t anger him. It just was. It was unavoidable (because he didn’t know HOW to avoid it, without wrecking the balance of the world himself, which he would have been very aware of), but it was tremendously far off. He could do almost anything and easily avoid it... but yet he didn’t. He took on the role that had been set for him. Perhaps he’d been granted a vision of where someone referred to him as the Elder Dragon of Rage and Crystal. Seen his own, enraged actions in later millennia. So he put that on as his image, projecting a false rage, but one honest enough to convince generations of mortals. Maybe even mixed in a bit of actual rage, because who likes being shackled to a fate they can’t alter? To be denied choice? With his Brand, over the passing of years, he could have easily reworked all of Tyria every time he awoke. But we see little if any of his influence other than in the Brand itself. And the Brand is a pretty permanent mark on the landscape. Pretty sure something like that doesn’t fade in a century or two. There should be entire swathes of landscape still bearing Brandmarks from the previous Risings, but there doesn’t seem to be. What if, just maybe... he was following a long list of events he had to make sure happened, to ensure that particular future came to pass. The one with Aurene, the Commander, the Pact, and Dragonfall itself? Every other Elder Dragon (barring Jormag, who claims to want only to be left alone, just ignore the ice minions) when they awoke tried to expand their territory as far as possible, and conquer and devour all in their path. But when Kralkatorrik awoke, he only burned a path straight south, and parked himself near the Tomb of the Primeval Kings. For YEARS. He drove south, and then sat somewhere. The only time he left that spot was to ‘confront’ Destiny’s Edge. As the Long Vision said he must, because he HAD to. He had to let Glint be un-linked to him for years, only to be forced to re-take her and her ending up dead because of it and the resulting battle. He had to watch as essentially his daughter died, knowing he could have left her alone and alive. But having to do it because if she lived, the Vision would go off-path, and the end result would be less-than-acceptable. So Glint dies, Snaff dies, and Kralkatorrik nurses a long, painful hurt that he knew was coming for ages. Imagine knowing that someone you cared about would turn on you, and you had to kill them. Imagine knowing, even worse, that that was the GOOD outcome. The one that HAD to happen. Mortals knew of him as the Crystal and Rage Dragon, because that was the image he had to plant in their minds. They HAD to hate him. They HAD to fear him. Fate needed them all bound together in a force strong enough to take him down, and he was the needle that sewed it all together through dozens of smaller, unseen movements over the years. Towards the end, after he’d absorbed all those toxic magics that he had no hope of containing, no hope of filtering and releasing in the ways that Aurene had been taught, because no one had ever taught HIM how to do it in ages past... He’d been almost insane with pain. But even then, he was still trying to follow the script. He knew he had to do...things... even if he wasn’t truly sure what they were. After such a long life, there must have been moments of ‘is this the part where I....’ by the dozens, but he probably knew his time was up, and knew he HAD to resist hard enough for everyone to be fully convinced of it. He had to fight back against us, because the script demanded he do it. So that there would be enough anger that we (the Commander, Aurene, the Pact) would not hesitate, not pull any punches, show no mercy.... Because it was the right thing to do. Kralkatorrik knew ages before that he was going to die, where, and how. Maybe not When, but one only needed to look to the events that would unfold to pick the proper time. He knew he would be hurt every stage of the path. From the loss of Glint, and possibly Vlast (the grandson he’d never properly met), to having to Brand Aurene to set her on her proper path. From Branding Ascalon and countless living beings to make the Charr, and by proxy Tyria hate him enough to fight him hard enough to make the Future possible. To facing down Balthazar when he frankly didn’t need to, even knowing Aurene was in that Warbeast, and being injured by it. Even chasing Aurene through the Mists, and into Thunderhead Keep, and then retreating back into the Mists to recupe some strength...that was only so there’d be time for Aurene to recover and gain her true abilities. He could have easily levelled the mountain, and instead he left...because Fate demanded he do so. There was no anger in him at the end. Only love for Aurene, regret for Glint, and possibly even those he’d Branded (I’m interpretting it that way because it’s very possible he did like Mortals, but because of his role in Fate, he HAD to kill and Brand them, and that hurt.), relieved resignation that he was at the end, and gratitude. In a way, all the horror, all the pain he caused... all the destruction, as oddly limited as it was compared to other Elder Dragons... was all FOR Tyria and the world. He played the role of mindless villain, because it was his destiny, and he could not shirk it. Could not see another way out that was beneficial to the world. So he took up that dark mantle, and wore it, and never let anyone else know, not even his own kin. Right till the end. Even Jormag never caught on. That’s how well he played the role. It’s impressive...and haunting. To knowingly do horrible things even though you don’t want to, but because it’s absolutely, 100% necessary. And to know it’s going to cost you Everything, right down to your own life... but everything will come out better for it afterward. I’m not even sure I’ve explained the scope of this thought properly. But it digs at the back of my mind now when I play through PoF, and Season 4. I can’t un-think these thoughts, not after hearing him at the end of Dragonfall. Hearing that he KNEW, and had always known, and was unafraid of it.

[sunflowergirl522]

Eat The Damn Cheese Stick

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Summary: Mix of the soulmate AUs where you have the first thing your soulmate says to you on your arm and the one where your greatest fear is what your soulmate had a near death experience with.

Word Count: 1759

Warnings: language

Masterlist

Poe hated third wheeling with Finn and Rey. He hated doing it and having an awkward blind date, set up by Finn, even more. Sure Finn just wanted him to be happy but Poe, and he had told Finn time and time again, was perfectly happy dating (and sleeping) around by himself. And ya he wanted to find his soulmate and whatnot. He wanted to be happy with someone the way Finn was happy with Rey but, he wanted to find them on his terms not on a blind date set up by his best friend. He got really good at sniffing out a set up and giving any excuse to not hang out. But this time was different, Finn had managed to sneak it past him.

He didn’t even realise it until Rey came out of nowhere and joined them in the diner. Finn had invited him out to see some new horror movie and they decided to eat beforehand. It was only going to be the two of them so he didn’t think anything of it since Rey was always there so the date wasn’t ever too awkward, even though it almost always was. But when Rey showed up and sat down next to Finn at the table the veil lifted and Poe could see what this really was.

“No, no way Finn I’m leaving.”

“Poe, cmon just, please. I didn’t even pick this girl, Rey did.This was all her idea.” At this Poe shoots a glare at the girl next to his friend.

“You’ve betrayed me.” He can’t help but to joke with her. Rey always had told Poe how she didn’t agree with what Finn was doing and how she’d try to get him to stop.

“Look I know this goes against my beliefs with this but, I think you’ll really like her at least enough to be her friend. Good lord she needs friends.” Rey mumbles the last part more to herself than anything else. “After this I promise Finn’s done with blind dates and you’re on your own with finding love.”

“This is the last one?” Rey nods and Poe looks over to Finn for reassurance.

“This is the last one.”

“Fine, I’ll stay. Where is she?”

“She should be on her way. Did you guys order anything?”

“Just appetizers, tell me about her.” He hated going into these things without any info about the girl. That’s a main reason as to why he hated blind dates so much, it could be a kind of girl that he hates almost immediately and he’d have to spend the whole date with her.

“All I’ll tell you is that she can be a bit much sometimes to handle. So with that being said here she comes.” A bit much to handle? What did that mean, what was Rey getting him into?

The appetizers arrive as Rey stands to catch the excited girl in her arms and the server blocks Poe’s view. He can hear the silvery voice greet the two of his friends. The server moves and Poe can finally see the short curvy girl that stands next to his taller, thinner friend. His gaze lands on her fishnet clad thighs a second longer than they should have and he has to look away before his mind starts to wonder.

“Y/n, this is Poe. Poe, Y/n.” The minute you hear that you stop smiling and look at the man in front of Finn. Meeting new people wasn't your cup of tea and Rey knew that. Why would she invite someone and not tell you? The man is attractive you’d give him that, you were a sucker for black curls. He definitely would’ve been a go to man if you were at a bar and looking for a hookup. “I think the two of you could really hit it off.” Oh so this was her trying to set you up on a date. Rey takes her seat next to Finn again and you go to sit down next to Poe, just now seeing the food on the table.

“Oh, mozzarella sticks!” Finn smiles at you and pushes them towards you while pulling the pretzels towards himself and Rey.

“Woah buddy, I thought I was getting the pretzels. You know I can’t eat these.”

Upon seeing the confusion on your face Rey speaks in a hushed tone to you. “Poe’s afraid of cheese sticks, that’s the fear his soulmate gave him though.”

“Don’t you go telling people my business. What are you doing?” You reach towards him holding one of the sticks in your hand for Poe to take.

“Don’t be a pussy, eat the damn cheese stick.” Poe knows those words, it’s like he’s heard them before. The tingle he feels on his arm reminds him of the words that are etched on his skin. Once the realization hits him, his eyes light up and he can’t stop beaming at you. “What, why are you looking at me like that?”

Poe wants this first line to you to be something witty, something that sounds cool. But when he looks into your Y/E/C eyes he swears he can see galaxies and his mind stops working. And because of that he says, “Helicopter crash!” Your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion and Poe wants to slap himself. “I almost died in a helicopter crash.” Your arm tingles a bit and you roll up the sleeve of your leather jacket in order to scratch at it as if it was an itch. Upon looking at your arm you see the words there that you had momentarily forgotten about, Helicopter crash. Well there’s that fear of flying you had to overcome.

“You have to be fucking kidding me, there’s no way.”

“What’s going on?” Finn and Rey were sharing looks of confusion with each other since Poe’s odd reaction to being called a pussy, normally he would try to fight anyone who dared to call him one.

Rey gasps as Poe takes off his iconic tan leather jacket to reveal the words on his arm for you to see, Don’t be a pussy, eat the damn cheese stick. “They’re soulmates, you guys are soulmates. I knew you two would get along!”

“How did you almost die from a cheese stick?” Poe leans on his arm towards you and you swallow before answering.

“I was young and you know how kids are they don’t always chew completely. Well, I was just eating one and I must not have chewed through the cheese completely because when I swallowed, all of the cheese just goes to the back of my throat while still being connected to the breading. So I was sitting there choking and tada I almost died. When’s the movie?” The question is directed towards Rey as you try to get the spotlight off of you and the situation you’re in.

“It starts in about thirty minutes. Y/n, are you okay?” Rey can see the panic beginning to rise in your eyes.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I, uh, I’m just gonna go get my ticket and grab us seats. I’ll see you guys in there.” With that you stand up and walk away quickly.

Poe can’t help but to feel rejected, you didn’t seem very excited to have found him. In fact, you seemed upset and he couldn’t figure out why. He sits there in stunned silence for a while before turning to his friends. “Guys I think I might just go home. I’m not really feeling a movie any more.”

“Poe, don’t let her reaction affect you. I know her and I know that if you just give her a bit she'll be jumping with joy.”

“Ya c’mon buddy it’s not like you to skip out on things because of some girl.”

“I appreciate you trying to help, but this isn’t just any girl.” And with that Poe grabs his jacket and walks away with his head down. On his way to his car that he parked at the theater, someone bumps into him.

“Shit, sorry I wasn’t looking at where I was going.” Poe looks down at you and his eyes widen, shocked to see you heading back to the diner. “Oh, Poe! I was just uh, coming to apologize to you.” You put your head down not able to look him in the eyes for that confession.

“Why?”

“I’m not exactly good at being put on the spot with things or with dealing with things, like soulmates for example, being thrown at me from nowhere. So if I came across as cold or unexcited about meeting you and everything I’m sorry. And before you say anything,” You step closer to him and poke your finger into his chest. Poe can’t help but find the sight adorable as you try to be intimidating. “I’ll have you know that that’s a big deal cause I don’t apologize for things I have no reason to be sorry for.”

“Well in that case I suppose I can forgive you.” He smirks at you and you can’t stop the smile from making its way onto your face.

“Alright let’s go watch the movie.”

Rey and Finn watch as you pull him with you into the theater from the entrance to the diner. “I told you they’d be perfect for each other from the start. You should’ve just listened to me now let’s go home.”

“But I wanted to watch the movie.”

“You can let your best friend enjoy a date without you for once or you can go see the movie and be the third wheel.”

***

“What a bullshit ending! They made it a point in the first one that the doll wasn’t possessed. And the head inside was ridiculous and completely unnecessary. Why do sequels suck so much ass nowadays?” Poe has never seen someone leave a theater so fast or so angry before.

“It's just a movie Y/n. I didn’t know there was a first one until you said something about it.”

“You’ve never seen the first one?” You stop in your tracks and turn slowly towards the man behind you. He only shakes his head and that’s all you need to make a last minute decision. “Okay, then you can take me home and you’re gonna watch it.”

“Wait, what?” You’re already pulling him into the parking lot for him to take you to his car. “Didn’t you drive here?”

“Nah I bussed, gotta keep the air clean y'know? Now which one is you?”

[thephoenixmagician]

Rhea Orasa || Character Survey

@cela-astral-projection - who presented a really awesome survey I couldn’t help but steal. 

This is going to be long, so it’ll all be under the cut!

Basic Questions

First name?:  Rheanna

Surname?:  Orasa

Middle Names?:  Elizeàn

Nicknames?:  Rhea (her preferred name), Elize (by Mazelinka only)

Date of Birth?:  March 28th

Age?:  During the time of the Game, about 24.

Physical Appearance

Height?:  5’ 9”

Weight?:  In the 160s

Build?:  Hourglass.

Hair Color?:  Vivid pink.

Hairstyle?:  Usually leaves it down and curly, but might put in the effort to style it with braids or clips on occasion. Only straightens it on the rarest of occasions. 

Eye Color?:  Left eye is royal sapphire blue, the other is emerald green.

Glasses or contact lenses?:  She doesn’t need them, or so she’ll insist. She might squint if something is just a little too far. She should wear them to read books or whatnot, but won’t.

Distinguishing facial features?:  Her eyes, obviously. They just aren’t common, even where she’s from.

Which facial feature is most prominent?:  Plump-ish lips, they’re a… favorite among the people she’s been with.

Which bodily feature is most prominent?:  Her posture. She can’t quite get rid of the habitual sitting up straight and walking with her shoulders squared.

Other distinguishing features?:  Stretchmarks on her hips, shoulders, thighs -she loves them. 

Skin?:  On the pale side. Has freckles, but more so on her cheeks and shoulders.

Hands?:  Slender, with soft callouses from the years of grinding herbs and stripping bark. Always keeps her nails relatively short and neat.

Makeup?:  She doesn’t mind on occasion. Eyeliner especially really makes her eyes pop. Won’t say no to eye shadow every now and then either.

Scars?:  Plenty all over. The most notable of them are the long, thin ones zigzagging across her back from lashings and a branded sigil on her left hip.

Birthmarks?:  Has one near her navel, very faint and looks like a heart to her.

Tattoos?:  She’s got a few. One is a simple amaryllis flower that she’d gotten to honor her mother. And another in the center of her back is a replica of a magic circle used in rather powerful spells.

Physical Handicaps?:  Occasionally has issues with her shoulder, a result from taking an arrow.

Type of clothes?:  She’ll wear whatever, honestly, regardless of who it’s meant for. She’d rather be comfortable over everything though.

What are their feet like?:  Kinda small, but soft. She’s got a scar on the bottom of one from stepping on glass once.

Race / Ethnicity?:  They’re based of Danish or Norwegian for the most part. I haven’t put too much thought into it, really.

Are they in good health?:  For the most part. Her mental health isn’t always in the best shape, but otherwise she’s alright.

Do they have any disabilities?:  No.

Personality

What words or phrases do they overuse?:  She uses the word “fuck” a lot. The girl can make even Julian blush with her swearing, but she keeps it in check for the most part. Otherwise, she’ll overuse 

Are they more optimistic or pessimistic?:  She’s learned to be more optimistic.

Are they introverted or extroverted?:  Introverted, but she’ll whip out an extroverted persona when needed.

Do they ever put on airs?:  No. She’s too blunt. You get exactly as expected with her.

What bad habits do they have?:  Sitting very ‘chaotically’ everywhere, no matter if its in a chair, on the table, atop a fence, or wherever she happens to find herself.

What makes them laugh out loud?:  She’ll burst into laughter if Faust whispers a suggestion for crime to her. They’re truly partners in crime.

How do they display affection?:  She loves to be affectionate physically. Will trail her fingers up your arms and through your hair if you let her. Uses a lot of Latin pet names and presses her forehead to yours, a sign of love and deep vulnerability. Or, she’ll get gifts. Honestly, she’s fluent in whatever ‘love’ language you speak.

How do they want to be seen by others?:  Normal.

Strongest character trait?:  Loyal as hell.

Weakest character trait?:  No self preservation at all. She’s very reckless.

How competitive are they?:  She’s very competitive, but she’ll deny it.

How do they react to praise?:  If it’s genuine, she’ll melt. On a rare occasion, she might even blush. But she’ll quickly recover and whip out that top energy to give her own in return.

How do they react to criticism?:  She’s indifferent, really. She’ll listen to them, say thank you, and move on with how she sees fit. She might heed to it if it’s constructive to her.

What is their greatest fear?:  Losing her memories again ties with being buried alive.

What are their biggest secrets?:  Her heritage and status as next in line for a throne. Nadia had always known. Lucio figured it out later, but never spoke about it (surprisingly). But for everyone else Rhea left that part out every time when she talked about her past. 

What is their philosophy of life?:  “Commitment, resilience and perseverance will take you far.”

What haunts them?:  The fact she blinded her sister. She’ll never get over that. And her mother’s execution.

What will they stand up for?:  Whoever needs it. And she’ll always fight for the people.

Are they indoorsy or outdoorsy?:  Outdoors. 

What is their sinful little habit?:  Will indulge in certain herbs... It helps her relax.

What sense do they most rely on?:  Sight

How do they treat people better than them?:  Equals.

How do they treat people worse than them?:  Equals.

What do they consider an overrated virtue?:  Obedience.

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?:  Her heritage and the fact she’s supposed to lead an entire country.

What is their obsession?:  Books and pretty things.

What are their pet peeves?:  Arrogance. Loud chewing. Leaving shoes out in the middle of the walkway.

Friends and Family

Is their family big or small?:  Relatively small. It was just her mother, father, little sister, and herself. She had never met or heard of any other blood family members from either side.

What is their perception of a family?:  It doesn’t have to be blood. She considers her friends family. She considers Salasi the Baker her family. It’s whoever she cares about and would do anything for.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger?:  Just Adara, who is 2 years younger. 

Describe their best friend.:  Which one? 

Ideal best friend?:  Someone she can be wholly comfortable with.

Do they have any pets?:  Do the neighborhood strays she feeds count?

Past and Future

What was your character like as a baby? As a child?:  As a baby, she was super clingy to her mom. She did not like being held by anyone else, not even her dad until she was almost a toddler. As a child, she was very wild. She was a rowdy little thing that some people would call a ‘tom boy.’ Her parents would call it ‘free spirited.’

Did they grow up rich or poor?:  Rich until she moved to Vesuvia.

Did they grow up nurtured or neglected?:  Nurtured.

What is the worst thing they did to someone they loved?:  When Asra asked her to go away with him during the plague, she had to break his heart to get him to leave without her. She’d already known she was sick and wouldn’t let him see her wither. She also told him she didn’t love him when he’d confessed, which was a lie.

What are their ambitions?:  Be happy and live a full life.

What smells remind them of their childhood?:  Lilacs, teak wood, burning sage, pine.

What was their childhood ambition?:  Become a battle magician -like her dad was. Or travel the world like Auntie Zira.

What is their best childhood memory?:  Before she lost control of her magic the first time, she’d shown her sister an illusion of the constellations in their bedroom. She made them dance and told stories. It’s a bit melancholic for her though… 

Did they have an imaginary childhood friend?:  No need.

Love

Do they believe in love at first sight?:  No.

How do they behave in a relationship?:  Respectfully. She’s always aware of boundaries and never pushes them. She’s wholly committed and they receive every piece of her love.

What sort of sex do they have?:  She’s down for anything. And will try almost anything at least twice. She’s a perfect switch and versatile, too.

Has your character ever been in love?:  A few times.

Have they ever had their heart broken?:  Maybe a few.

Conflict

How do they respond to a threat?:  She’s very quick to act. She’ll try to subdue first, but if that’s off the table… she’ll do as required.

Are they most likely to fight with their fists or tongue?:  Both, at the same time.

What is your character’s kryptonite?:  The people she loves.

If your character could only save one thing from their burning house, what would it be?:  Assuming no soul is left inside, she’ll save a grimoire of her mom’s.

How do they perceive strangers?:  As people, with their own lives.

What are their phobias?:  Taphophobia, being buried alive. Claustrophobia, fear of confined spaces.

What is their choice of weapon?:  Magic or a blade. Has no issue using fists though.

What living person do they most despise?:  Despise is a strong word, but it’d probably be Valerius. She can’t tolerate him for long.

Have they ever been bullied or teased?:  Plenty of times as a kid, but had no qualms about knocking someone in the teeth.

Where do they go when they’re angry?:  A walk or run. Or, she’ll climb something, preferably a very tall cliff or palace wall. Any physical activity really.

Work, Education, and Hobbies

What is their current job?:  Court Magician of Vesuvia, shop keeper, and [redacted cause spoilers]

What do they think about their current job?:  It’s necessary.

What are some of their past jobs?:  Court Magician, combat medic, shopkeeper, and personal guard to the Count

What are their hobbies?:  She collects rocks, pressed flowers, odd trinkets, shiny shiny stuff.

Educational background?:  Was trained in various forms of magic by her parents as soon as she could walk, as well as other combat styles with traditional weapons. She was taught other lessons in history, politics, and more to train her to become Queen, too. She learned most of her medical knowledge from Nazali and Julian.

Intelligence level?:  She’s wicked sharp. 

Do they have any specialist training?:  Magic is her main focus.

Do they play a sport? Are they any good?:  She’ll try any sport for fun; but, again, she’s competitive so don’t be surprised if she tries to kick your ass at it.

What is their socioeconomic status?:  Upper-middle, maybe?

Favorites

What is their favorite animal?:  All, especially if she can pet it.

Which animal do they dislike the most?:  Birds kinda freak her out, just a little.

What place would they most like to visit?:  Zadith or Nevivon. But she’s down to go anywhere at any time.

What is the most beautiful thing they’ve seen?:  The sunrise from the highest cliff in Moonsea. She could see everything painted in orange, reds, and violets.

What is their favorite song?:  Song of the Sea - Ashley Serena

Music, art, reading preferred?:  Don’t make her pick. Please, don’t make her pick. Her head might explode.

What is their favorite color?:  Black and purple.

Favorite food?:  Seared scallops.

Possessions

What is in their fridge?:  Fruit, certain herbs, beer, and more fruit.

What is on their bedside table?:  A book (that’s cycled out after she’s finished obviously), sleeping draught, and the emerald necklace.

What is in their pockets?:  Herb pouch, warding charms, stones, small pocket knife, that kind of stuff.

What is their most treasured possession?:  A broken necklace. She can’t remember why it’s so important, but she never leaves without it tucked safely somewhere on her person.

Spirituality

Do they believe in the afterlife?:  She believes there has to be something after all this.

What are their religious views?:  Spiritual.

Are they superstitious?:  Not in the “black cats are bad luck” way.

What would they like to be reincarnated as?:  A bear!

How would they like to die?:  Doesn’t care. It won’t matter afterwards.

What is your character’s spirit guide?:  A bear.

What is their zodiac sign?:  Aries

Daily Life

What are their eating habits?:  She either eats non-stop, or goes without because she forgets. She’ll make sure it’s at least a balanced meal, for the most part.

Do they have any allergies?:  She’s allergic to hazelnuts and bananas. Will still eat them and get calmly lectured for it by Asra or Julian, too.

Describe their home.:  Organized, mostly. Everything is in a specific place. She cleans regularly, especially since ‘someone’ doesn’t remember to.

Are they minimalist or a clutter hoarder?:  Organized clutter.

What do they do first thing on a weekday morning?:  Morning tea to wake her up and make her less grumpy. Then maybe breakfast of apple and rice pudding.

What do they do on a Sunday afternoon?:  Nap, read, nap again, sex, nap, snack… 

What do they do on a Friday night?:  Either go out with Julian, pull an ‘all nighter’ with Asra, or whatever. She’s done to go out or stay in.

What is the soft drink of choice?:  She wouldn’t drink soda often, actually. So she’d have no preference.

What is their alcoholic drink of choice?:  Anything but tequila.

Miscellaneous

What is their character archetype?: From this list: The Creator seems the most fitting. Let me know if you think I’m wrong.

Who is their hero?:  Her mother.

What or who would your character dress up as for Halloween?:  She’d have a different costume every year. So a witch, a mermaid, an android (in Modern AU)… She’d never do the same one twice.

Are they comfortable with technology?:  In a Modern AU, she’d like to use it quite a lot. It’d be useful to her.

If they could save one person who would it be?:  That’s… a hard question.

If they could call one person for help, who would it be?:  Asra, for sure. 

What is their greatest extravagance?:  Herbs, books, and stones.

Do they believe in happy endings?:  She’d like to.

What would they ask a fortune-teller?:  About what deck they use.

[psychicmedium14]

What are Your Sign's Lucky Numbers?

Numbers are the language of the Universe. The numbers in your life can define who you are and what you do. Lucky numbers can be used many different ways, such as winning the lottery. Are the numbers you keep seeing your lucky ones? Find out your sign's lucky numbers and the ways to use them.

♈

Aries:

The number 13 stands out among other Aries lucky numbers. Generally considered unlucky, it is a real blessing for dynamic Rams who never fall under the influence of superstitions. Friday the 13ths are your days to shine, while 26 (that is 13+13) is the crucial age for Rams that marks important life events.

Aries natives can also count on 4. April, the fourth month of the year and also the birth month for many Aries people, is the time when they go through most epic metamorphosis to become self-sufficient, initiative, and self-motivated. Associated with death in Asian cultures, 4 makes Rams achieve success at any cost.

♉

Taurus:

The number 15 is the number that enhances the inborn intuition of Taurus people. Whether it’s their birthday or two digits of their phone number, Taurus natives who fall under the influence of the number 15 manage to strike the balance between their physical guilty pleasures and spiritual aspirations.

51 is an extremely important number for Taurus people known for their money-saving and money-making gifts. Integrating 51 in their career life can make them more successful when it comes to climbing the career ladder. As far as their family life is concerned, 51 can make it more harmonious.

♊

Gemini:

Gemini people should keep an eye out for the number 4. Wrapped in the atmosphere of fear in many cultures, the number 4 crops up in situations related to major life events. If it shows up in a car registration plate, a street address, or a newspaper you are reading before an important event, everything should go well.

All good news and messages delivered to Gemini natives are linked to 19. At the most immediate level, the number combines the energies of 1, the energy of fresh starts, and of 9, the energy of completion. It usually crops up to indicate that they are ready to enter the next stage of their personal and professional growth.

♋

Cancer:

Cancer representatives should keep an eye out for the number 7. If they start noticing it here and there showing up on buildings, in newspapers, price tags, commercials, and whatnots, this can only mean that a sudden windfall is gaining momentum. 7s are often linked to career and money-related situations.

39 is another lucky number for Cancer folks. Radiating the energy of 3, the energy of creativity, and the energy of 9, the energy of completion, it may start occurring to indicate that all future endeavors will be met with appreciation. Integrating 39 in their work will help Cancer people achieve their goals faster.

♌

Leo:

In numerology, 1 symbolizes an achiever. This number has the greatest potential of all that usually comes along with aggressiveness when it comes to achieving goals. Integrating 1 in their life – how about carrying a lucky one-dollar bill? – is the key ingredient to success for ambitious Lions.

Building a strong and harmonious relationship is no less important to Leo representatives than achieving their career goals. 22 as a symbol of unity and togetherness comes to the rescue here. 22s that pop up a lot here and there, indicate that proud Lions are going to meet their tamer soon.

♍

Virgo:

88 brings prosperity into the lives of Virgo people. Having two 8s standing next to each other for a lucky number, Virgo folks can count on a doubled positive influence brought by 8. If you see two 8s coming from addresses, phone numbers, banking accounts, you’re likely to end up with a sudden windfall.

61 is a blend of the energies of 1, associated with bold decisions and new beginnings, and 6, linked to family and home. This lucky number cropping up now and then sends Virgo people a clear message that it’s time to take over the leadership role in their family or relationship and make an important decision.

♎

Libra:

6 possesses a harmonious and caring nature, so no wonder the number is considered lucky for Libra people. Known as a motherhood number, it helps them build a strong family and guides them as parents. Integrating 6 in their life (e.g. having 6 in their home address) helps maintain a healthy relationship.

24 and its mirror twin number 42 help Libra representatives find their purpose in life and, above all, make a life-changing decision. They often appear as omens of good fortune. On the other hand, when a Libra person just can’t pin down the right decision, all he/she needs to do is to give it 24 hours first.

♏

Scorpio:

To align with the powerful energy of money comes naturally to Scorpio representatives. And, when it comes to making money fast, Scorpio people should pay attention to situations in which the number 9 appears unexpectedly. 9 is associated with raising new funds and a lucky break for Scorpio people.

18, 27, and 54 are numbers that Scorpions should keep in mind. 1 plus 8, 2 plus 7, and 5 plus 4 give us 9, the abovementioned lucky number. If these numbers start cropping up all of a sudden, this is a sign that Scorpions are going the right way and very soon they will find the answers to their questions.

♐

Sagittarius:

6 plays an important role in Archers’ lives. Striking a balance between family and work doesn’t come naturally to this Fire sign. 6 associated with family and home and containing two 3s that send the vibes of creativity and self-development, help Sagittarius people maintain a healthy family relationship.

Can’t get financial or family problems out of your head? Then look around for the number 76 that is a perfect blend of the lucky energy radiated by the number 7 and the cool-minded 6. 76 always crops up unexpectedly to indicate that the solution you have been considering lately is the only right one.

♑

Capricorn:

8 is the only number that can help Capricorn people break the spell of their pragmatic routine. As a symbol of infinity, the number 8 always appears unexpectedly (even if it’s just a digit in a registration plate of a car parked nearby) to remind you that every problem has multiple solutions.

10s, Capricorn personal guiding stars to success, that pop up here and there deliver a hidden message that some goal Capricorn representatives keep devoting time to has been achieved and very soon a pragmatic Goat will be presented with a new opportunity for love, career, or personal growth.

♒

Aquarius:

The number 17 that symbolizes broken boundaries and independence in numerology brings strength, self-sufficiency, and wisdom for Aquarius representatives. It often keeps appearing when something new and fascinating that is about to change their world for good is knocking on the door.

Aquarius representatives like everything unconventional and extravagant so it’s only natural that the number 13 appears in the list of their lucky numbers. Seen as unfavorable days in different cultures, Friday the 13ths very often have a couple of exciting moments in store for bold Aquarius natives.

♓

Pisces:

3, often associated with the Rule of Three, is a lucky number for insightful Pisces representatives. Pisces people, and especially those of them who have this number in their birthdates, know that everything that comes in threes is perfect. Their luck and good fortune always arrive in threes, too.

However, the true lucky break comes to mystical and artistic Pisces representatives along with the number 7. This number has great potential that should never be neglected. If Pisces natives are going to have an important meeting, negotiations, or to propose, then 7 p.m. is their perfect time.

[owletstarlet]

21, 39 and 49 with tanunatsu for the angsty otp ask!!

Ah, thanks so much for these!! From this ask meme. 

21: What’s the thing they miss the most about each other? 

So for Natsume I think it could be something as simple as missing casual physical touch. You can’t tell me that someone raised in those kinds of circumstances hasn’t turned out touch-starved. But because of those (awful) circumstances, I think he gets skittish about touch at times unless he’s initiating it. He’s probably gotten less shy about seeking it out as time goes on but over time Tanuma has also become pretty well attuned to when Natsume needs it, and will ask him if he needs a hug/makes himself available for cuddles (and Natsume will just sort of curl up half on top of him like a cat while Tanuma sits and plays with his hair and whatnot). If Tanuma’s not there, Natsume sorely misses the physical reassurance, particularly if something youkai-related leaves him shaken. Of course Sensei’s there, and if something really upsetting happened then Sensei might make the grudging offer to turn himself human to offer a proper hug in Tanuma’s stead.

For Tanuma, I think he’d honestly grow to miss having someone around who is intensely interested in even the most mundane aspects of his daily life and wants to hear him talk about it. Now I think it’d take Tanuma a long damn time before he can stop reeling over the fact that even an ounce of that could be worthy of Natsume’s time and consideration, and he’d be awkward and diffident about it and deflect without even meaning to by asking Natsume the exact same questions (a “yeah, everything’s going fine, so how was your school day” type situation). But he slowly realizes how warm it makes him feel to have someone to confide in, and someone who wants to know about the history test he’s anxious about, and what kind of pasta sauce he likes best, and the tree out on the edge of his back garden that makes the prettiest golden leaves in the autumn.

And it’s not that Tanuma never had anyone to confide in growing up; but I think his dad’s just as quiet a person as he is, and never really pushed him to talk when he didn’t feel like it (between them they’ve perfected the art of the comfortable silence). But then at some point when Natsume has to be away for awhile, maybe around when they’re in university, a few days in, Tanuma calls his dad, and just. Talks a bit about his perfectly ordinary day. And afterwards his dad pauses, and says very fondly (and rather knowingly), “I think that’s the most I’ve heard you say about yourself and your own thoughts at one time in years.”

(And it’s not that Natsume wouldn’t miss the same thing, having Tanuma listen to him, granted that Natsume spent his whole childhoow with the understanding that nobody gave a damn what he thought. But now, he’s very much surrounded by people, and youkai, who care very much about his thoughts and opinions, and I think this is partly how he can identify that Tanuma needs the same thing—somebody there to just listen. 

39: Does it take a lot for it to get to the point of yelling?

Yeah. Yup. And it’d take a dire situation indeed to escalate it to that point. I think Natsume’s more likely to yell than Tanuma is, we see him get yelly and snippy in canon fairly frequently, and though 90% of the time it’s directed towards youkai while In The Midst Of Some Youkai Bullshit (whereas with humans he’s more apt to be placid and restrained when he’s upset), it unfortunately probably means he doesn’t always watch his tone if the argument is about said youkai bullshit. The most likely cause would be fear that Tanuma would get himself badly hurt by meddling in something big…but even if Natsume’s convinced he’s in the right, I think he learned the hard way that it’s not worth it, that Tanuma’s reaction to being yelled at by Natsume is really, really hard to watch. Like. He’d stand there looking like he just got slapped in the face, and all his biggest fears and insecurities are just chasing themselves through his head behind his eyes—how he’s always just been waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Natsume to realize that someone as mediocre as him isn’t worth bothering with. He’d almost manage to bank his hasty retreat before the tears start, but not quite, and Natsume quite suddenly feels like the scum of the earth for having caused it. (I think Tanuma would get better with it with time, he’d realize Natsume would only ever yell at him if he was really scared and most likely scared for Tanuma, he doesn’t love it but he doesn’t break apart like he did the first time and is able to respond more or less calmly. But man was that first time rough, on both of them.) 

In regards to Tanuma yelling at Natsume, to my memory we have one good canon example (when Natsume loses his parents’ photo), and that’s a perfect example of what it’d take to get him yelling, essentially, “don’t you dare devalue yourself or the pain you’re in, we want to help you, let us help.”He might also yell if Natsume were being overly reckless/self-destructive in a youkai matter, because at least within canon-era he’s under no illusions that he has the spiritual power/training needed to physically protect Natsume in a significant way, and he (canonically) has nightmares about that fact, so the least Natsume can do is not stick his neck out at every turn. I also think that if Tanuma yells, it’s Natsume’s cue to shut up and listen, because it happens so infrequently and only when Tanuma’s really upset. 

49: Do they think about each other a lot? Does it affect their performance/schoolwork? 

Oh yes. I’m pretty sure that even in canon, even if you don’t ship it romantically, Natsume is at least 70% of what’s on Tanuma’s mind on any given day. Bless him, it’d have been so much easier on his Anxiety Brain if he and Natsume could’ve been in the same class, where he could have Natsume physically sitting right in the same room where he can see him. As it stands, every time there’s a bit of odd weather, or he has a twinge in his head, he immediately starts turning the what-ifs over and over in his head and has a very difficult time following along in the lesson. Honestly he probably studies/focuses on homework the best when Natsume’s studying with him, for the same reason; it’s an anxiety that’s always in the back of his head even when he’s not consciously aware of it and he can quiet that part of his mind when he’s got Natsume beside him. 

Of course Natsume thinks about Tanuma and worries for him frequently too, but quantitatively speaking Natsume has a whole lot more people and situations to be occupying his mind and taking up his emotional energy all at once, everyone and everything he wants to protect. Though of course Tanuma’s a big part of that, especially once they’re in an established relationship, and Tanuma’s presence helps him to bear it all a little easier. 

I should note that if they ever did do exorcist work, particularly in tandem, they would probably distract one other, or namely the urge to protect one another would. I think if Natori were to observe this (especially if they have a close call/one of them is injured), he’d tell them they needed to be very careful not to become each other’s biggest liability, and not to let mutual protectiveness or any idiotic self sacrificial urges to cloud their objectivity and get them both killed horribly. Though of course, he can’t contest that if this energy is applied in moderation and tempered by the ability to see the big picture when necessary, they could also be one another’s greatest strength.