#burakh family time

[oneslimybastard]

Puts more Pathologic on your Timeline

Completely heartbroken I couldn't come up with a new title for changeling. 'Changling deez nuts' might have to do

[shmowder]

In P1, it always felt like Artemy glossed over his father's death, like he didn't give much of a reaction nor act like someone would in a state of grief. You get more lines to address it in P2, more opportunities to reminisce about the past and Artemy's childhood. It feels like you go through the stages of grief with him. You watch him miss the dad he had whilst accepting his death. He kneels at the pit of mass graves with the thread in his pocket, witnessing the dead speak and his only question was if his dad can hear him one last time. A stark contrast to how cold-hearted he seemed to onlookers in P1.

It made me question if he even cared that his father had died, if it even mattered to Artemy. Sure he always has shown concern to who killed his father and diligence to fullfill his role as menkhu, but nothing beyond that. Nothing personal, as if he was using revenge as a distraction from facing his emotions.

Sometimes, in P1, you get lines like these.

And it's sudden, abrupt, and completely takes you off guard from how out of tone it feels. How just the mention of his father has him suddenly getting agitated, ignoring the facts. Each time any character mentions Isidor and talks about him freely, Artemy gets the option to tell them to shut up and that they don't know what they're talking about, that they can't possibly understand. It can lock you out of quests.

In one conversation, you get that option 3 times in a row, and you have to avoid choosing it each time so you don't end the quest. Artemy actively has to stop himself from snapping at people left and right so he doesn't throw away all of the progress he has made.

A literal explosion of emotions after days of silence and going as business usual, pretending that nothing is out of the ordinary.

Mind you, that dialogue line above happens in the same conversation as this one below. So by that point, Artemy snapped at someone he considered a friend.

Artemy is grieving, Artemy is distraught, and he doesn't know how to deal with these emotions in P1. So he supresses them, doesn't acknowledge the lines Isidor writes about wishing his son was by his side in his dairy, doesn't accept any condolences nor pity.

He puts a facade of composure since he stepped foot off of that train, a mask of apathy so he doesn't appear weak to anyone in this town. He can't be Artemy the son, he needs to be Burakh the wise menkhu, the warden of kin, the healer his father diligently raised him to be.

He has no time to think about it, he needs to invent a cure, he needs to protect the children, he...needs his dad but that dad is gone.

In P2, he hasn't seen his father in 5 years, but in P1? 10. A decade came and went. How lonely it must have felt, how long the ride on the train back home must have been. How suffocating that anxiety of facing your family after a decade without contact, wondering if his farher would be proud of who he has become. That feeling that you're in trouble when a parent addresses you by your full name and urges you to come see them, it's like he was 10 years again. How could he have known that in the same night he'll come back home to being the last remaining Burakh in town.

[serialadoptersbracket]

Full Propaganda: Artemy Burakh

(Shoutout to @helihi for this lovely piece of art! Find it here!)

1. “Might not be as many kids as other submissions, but it literally only takes a few days between this man rolling into town and him getting adopted by those 2 kids (and kinda by other kids in town, but the others don't outright come live with him so i only counted them)”

2. “Will see the muddiest little orphan child you've ever seen, ask "is anyone gonna adopt that" and then not wait for an answer. Also looks after five OTHER children who he needs to keep alive in order to ensure a future for his hometown. He loves them all very much even if he's grumpy about it (he has so many reasons to be grumpy).”

3. “Sticky and Murky are two orphans that can be found on the list Artemy's father, Isidor Burakh, left for him before he died. Pathologic is set during a massive plague where there are many dangers occurring at the same time in the town. Artemy adopts Sticky and Murky in order to look after them and keep them safe. Sticky is a 12 year old boy who used to be Isidor's student, so he views Isidor as a good person. Murky is an 8 year old girl who's parents died because of Isidor's actions pre-game, so she views him negatively. This originally makes them argue but they grow to see eachother as siblings and in the Diurnal Ending of Pathologic 2, Artemy, Sticky and Murky will live together in Isidor's old house like a family. In short: Artemy came back to his childhood home to follow up on a letter his dad sent him and ended up becoming a father in the span of like 12 days.”

4. “Pathologic is not the kind of game you expect to make your mother instincts kick in but it indeed does.

The adoption spree starts with the second game protagonist, Artemy, being given a list of 7 children who will inherit the city one day. He does become an important figure in their lifes, but truly adopts only two. Orphans named Murky and Sticky.

After learning about a secret hideout his father had, he goes to check and Sticky is just there. He was a some sort of a student of his father, but didn't learn much. Artemy calls him a stray cat and later house imp, but lets him stay. Slowly they grow close with Artemy promising to teach Sticky how to become a doctor. Throughout the game they have a ton of cute moments with Sticky trying to help the best he can, but breaking equipment while Artemy is away. Also they needed to fix the brewing machine and sticky said he has a guy who owes him one. When they arrive at the place the first thing he says is "distract him the best you can while I work". After you complain about it, he first says he needs stealing to survive, but then calls it the form of art. It's impossible not to love him.

Murky is a lonely autistic girl who lives in a train cabin by herself. With each day you play she slowly starts staying by your house more and more. In the middle of the game Artemy had to catch a deadly plague for her to survive. It can interpreted as her fault, but right after he finds her and asks to come back home. Throughout the game she often says "I don't love you. There is no reason for me to love you". But after getting sick herself she finally says "I love you and always loved". Bro I cried. Also the most important part. Her russian name is Mishka. It can be translated as teddy bear or bear cub. Artemys childhood nickname is Bear and his home is called "lair". Bear family...

Sticky and Murky often argue between themselves, but reconcile in the end. One time he stole some sugar and made a lollipop for her... She says "I don't mind having kinda brother" the same way she says "I don't mind being your kinda daughter" to Artemy.

In one of the game endings they stand in front of artemys old house asking if they will live there and which rooms they can take.

Children adoption: successful”

5. “#he adopted WAY more than sticky and murky”

6. “#listen artemy gets back to his hometown after being away for years and proceeds to instantly adopt every kid in the town #he gets handed a random list of children and shifts immediately into dad mode #no one does it like him”

[danvolodar]

Pathologic and the Town's Russianness: 3

A close continuation of the previous part, this one will address a much narrower issue: the forms of address used in the Town.

I originally intended to write this up in the previous part, since signs of respect and politeness are closely linked to social class, but that part turned out long as it is. Still, keep that idea in mind when reading further.

If ever you tried to learn Russian, even the most basic parts, you must be aware it has two different pronouns for "you": a polite one (vy) and a familiar one (ty). It is of course not a unique feature for an Indo-European language: it's called "T-V distinction" and it's encountered in many other languages of the same group (and many other languages have their own ways to differentiate pronouns for the same purpose).

Not to send my non-Russian readers to read a whole wikipedia page, the basic idea behind the usage is the following. Vy is used for someone you are expected to respect: those older than you or in higher social position. Ty is used for subordinates, those younger than you, and close family (so it's still the one you'd use when addressing your grandma, for instance, even if she's much older than you - but that bit changed over time).

Closely linked to that is the usage of particular name forms. A Russian name consists of a given name, a patronymic (the given name of the person's father in a special form, normally with an -ovich or -vich suffix attached), and a surname. So the Haruspex' full name would be Artemy Isidorovich Burakh. This system has been in use without much change for centuries - there were calls to change it during the Revolution, but in the end in remained unchanged (in reality - in Disco Elysium, if you remember, the Deserter has a matronymic: Iosef Lilianovich Dros). The polite way to address someone is with their name and patronymic, used for someone you'd use vy with. Using simply the given name is less polite (although it can be used both with ty and vy); and then finally there's the dimunitive name form used for close friends and family (so, the grandma from the example above you'd call "baba Katya", not "Ekaterina Matveevna").

Keeping all that in mind, let us now briefly examine the ways those conventions are used in Pathologic.

And it's going to be real brief because they aren't.

Or rather, the different name forms aren't used in their entirety. Characters remarkably rarely address each other by name, all in all, but when they do, it's either by the given name, or by the nickname. Artemy has to speak with a few figures of authority, such as Big Vlad, Georgiy Kain or Alexander Saburov, and even for the ones he has no reasons to despise (well, Georgiy out of that list, I guess), he never uses a patronymic. Similarly, when talking with close friends (such as Rubin, Lara, Grief, or Dankovsky, depending on your interpretations), not a single time any of them use the dimunitives - even Grief, who otherwise has very casual, ostentatiously casual even, speech patterns.

Dimunitives also aren't used when talking with kids, but that can be explained away by none of them carrying names rather than nicknames. I believe Artemy is only acquainted with two kids with names that have well-known dimunitives in Russian: Capella and Maria Kaina. Needless to say, he uses dimunitives for neither.

T-V distinction, on the other hand, is used in the Russian version, and it carries a bit of meaning then. For instance, Saburov uses vy with Artemy at all times, other than when he thinks him a patricide and orders him jailed (and Artemy returns the favour, using ty when asking if he's delirious making that decision). Similarly, Aglaya and Artemy start out addressing each other with vy, then move to ty without discussing that. Georgiy and Artemy use vy for each other at all times, even if it would be acceptable to address the latter with ty since he's much younger. Artemy uses vy with Big Vlad, and he reciprocates, but adds "my boy" each time so it sounds rather sarcastic, and he switches to ty casually when the situation calls for that - same as Artemy does when accusing the man of treating the Kin like cattle.

Outside of the ruling families, the Haruspex only addresses Block, Lyuricheva and Dankovsky with vy, and he switches to ty half-way with the latter (which can be seen as them becoming friends, at last). It can be seen as a reflection of their social status and class, as discussed in the previous part.

But the funny thing is, almost nothing of that makes it into the English translation. There are two exceptions I know. First, where Big Vlad uses ty to address Artemy in Russian, in English he moves from the patronizing "my boy" to downright insulting "boy". Second, Dankovsky and Burakh discuss changing the pronouns used: the Bachelor says the Haruspex can use ty with him. The translation plays around it: Artemy swears, excuses himself, and Daniil says he has no need to limit himself in his presence.

I think it a very rare case of successfully translating the meaning in what otherwise is a translation that mangles the initial work badly.

So, summing this part up: the game uses none of the different terms of address found in Russian in its dialogs if it's played in English; it only uses one modality of the two commonly used if played in Russian.

[herbgroom]

some thoughts I don't have time to get into

the three families actually represent the three forms of power. Saburovs executive power, Kains judicial power, Olgimskys legislative power... that makes the Olgimskys lobbyists, yeah...

despite this, there seems to be no official form of a law code, most ordinances are transmitted orally, and some are purely based on mob rules. georgiy is the Judge, but there are no lawyers or someone that can take that role. in short, it seems to be just pure anarchy

artemy is easily identifiable as upper class. his father was the only doctor in town, and he owns an independent, two story house (and in patho 1 they even had two housemaids) whereas the majority of houses host multiple family units (especially in the Hindquarters where the Burakh house is located.) artemy could very well be richer than daniil

given andrey and his "famous orgies" it's plausible to assume most of the children in town are his.

[meirimerens]

*runs up to you* thoughts on burakhovsky marriage? 🎤🎤🎤

Honey if you knew!!!! I'll try to make it quick because I'm making sims so typing over my laptop put on front of my keyboard (complicated). Actually let me do Wedding. Marriage is them exactly the same but post-that. And sleeping in the same bed under boddhos hospices but hopefully not her watchful eye.

Tldr yes. dankovsky has been 🙄🙄 about marriage his whole life out of the feeling of religious alienation for being gay + generally a contrarian + able to recognize the misogyny inherent to marriage as a religious institution which made him go [before he knew he was gay] well if I met a woman I wouldn't want to marry her that's cruel [literally doesn't matter he's gay]  + generally a liker of freedom inclined to dislike institutions. But also he never had an actual relationship before so his ass didn't care before. And also by virtue of being a marriage between two men, the religious (and tbf secular societal) misogyny of the woman being "passed down" from the father's to the husband's "property" to go from domestic labor in her parents house to domestic sexual and reproductive labor in her husbands Literally doesn't apply to them because gay wedding.

I think his mom is overjoyed at marrige she always wanted him to have a nice wedding so she's very happy. she's a bit nervous because he's marrying in a culture she doesn't know much about (and vice-versa for burakh tbf) and she's ankchus at how ceremony will go.

Dankovskys side of fhe family brings to the ceremony Armenian [mothers side] & Georgian [dads] traditions [not listing bc making it short so I can.go back to my sims] also dankovsky in chokha please. ooooh please. for his weddig day.

they need A Bunch of meetings with wardens and the brides (all that participate in the ceremony) to adjust the usual wedding traditions to like. two guys. esp. for the Kin traditions as motherhood - birth - rebirth are very important within that culture and like Not Happening Here Sorry. so a bunch of bits and pieces are rearranged, I'd imagine like blessings for the bride for beautiful children and safe childbirth are scraped and everyone is scratching their heads at what to replace them with [they end up finding its fine]. while it's not the first time the Kin has an out gay couple among them [duh] it's the first time its a Warden son of Menkhu and they have to make a big deal out of it. Methinks ceremony includes painting sigils on each others wrists and the herb brides bricker with Oyun like "oh my god you can keep that one it doubles as a potency charm" and burakh and dankovsky sitting there are just boiling inside [I drew an image of it once I did I did]

also dankovskys mom insists burakh and those who can stand in as family come drink the tea with them and share his intention to ask for her sons hand in marriage [even after having asked dankovsky + neither of them care about parents permission, it's exclusively to please dankovskys family esp his mam who's taking that from lhosk-arnel tradition]

Ceremony also includes stepping out to the steppe for private vows while the assembly turns around and coming back. then usually groom carries brides on a beautiful bull he'd have tame to the bridal house (typically honeymoon destination). dankovsky has to explain to his father who already struggled with him being gay earlier on in his life that "I'm not sitting on the bull because I'm the woman of the relationship, I'm sitting on the bull because I'm scared of it and it could crush my foot under its hoof" and his dad kind of looks at him a little fearful.

mom brings honeycakes. rubin burakhs best man/whatever they're called, peter is dankovsky, and he keeps making big wet eyes at rubin the whole ceremony (watch out)

[vilevexedvixen]

D&D Castrato Bard idea

Undecided whether to put this in a historical D&D session set over the 17th or 18th century (either works because this was when the castrati were most prominent - though existed since the 15th century, so that period would also work (They technically existed since byzantine times but people typically refer to the opera castrati when discussing "castrati")), or if say a church that a human paladin followed had an equivalent castrati in the realm of D&D. Castrati were men who were castrated before hitting puberty so as to preserve their soprano or contralto voice. In their hay day they earned decent pay and notoriety as opera singers, so poorer families sometimes castrated their sons in the hopes of making them be castrati and in turn earn the family money. Highly recommend Early music sources' video if you want a general summary of the topic: https://youtu.be/iP2vw6JIdNQ Similar build and / or age to the barbarian of the party, to contrast with his high pitched, boyish voice (which I know contradicts the ways the lack of physiological changes induced in puberty means the castrati often, going by various paintings and early photographs, has softer facial features and tended to be pudgy but a character can still be big and muscular for reasons other than a male puberty). He'd make his body more imposing and avoid speaking where possible to avoid drawing attention to his voice in his day to day life. Not that he'd be keen to show off his singing anyway, as his singing wasn't all that great. More a poet than anything, master of written rather than spoken words and songs. Subsequently he didn't end up being the golden goose his poor family had hoped for. Just a silly goose! The times he tried to work within his abilities to make them the money they expected, instead of being paid for the songs he wrote his work was attributed to other, more famous composers. It was at least a little rewarding to hear how much others enjoyed his words all the same. That didn't stop his family evicting him. Only allowing his return if he brings back enough money to support them. With so many years dedicated to musical arts, even with his lack of talent and lackluster progress, it's all he really knows how to do so assumed the role of a travelling bard.

Before being kicked out, his siblings mockingly dubbed him "Caster" (short for castrato, of course) more often than using his actual name for so long he'd forgotten it. Once he joins a party, if the members ask about his name, he'll joke it's because his mother thought he was so sweet like caster sugar, or that it was because his sonets were so enchanting it was like he was a spell caster. Assuming there's no non-human equivalent of the castrati, it'd take a while for party members to learn the actual meaning of his name (if he ever discloses it at all). Unlike the playboys castrati were known to be, Caster's lack of fame, his general disinterest in the lust and adoration such fame might have granted him as it had other castrati and longing for a loving home / companionship meant that rather than relishing in his forced infertility it instead weighed on him like lead boots. Appreciative of any company that will have him, but limited by his aversion to speak (or rather, to have others hear his unusual voice), he readily helps whatever party is kind to him. With his supposedly limited skillset, he feels he is useless despite the innumerable ways he helps the party and the undesirables of whatever town they pass through. Empathising with the homeless and orphaned, and acting as the parental figure of the party. Progressively adopting more and more people in a similar way to the Bat-fam or Pathologic's Artemy Burakh. (Also I know the painting is anachronistic but I really like it and felt it fit the vibe)

[rathologic]

Can you please explain what was going on between Oyun and Isidor? I know Oyun murdered him but that's it. I don't know why or why Isidor was looking for him. And what was with that side quest where Sticky saw everything? I feel like I missed something and I'm very confused

SO there are several different layers of conflict between them, but bottom line, isidor's murder was a political move suggested by big vlad to tighten his and oyun's control over the Kin. it's a little unclear which of them suggested it! BV denies having him killed, but lara-in-the-pit on haruspex day 11 (who cannot lie) says it was done on big vlad's orders, but oyun says it was his idea...

anyway, that was all done because Isidor as the head of the Burakh family rightfully held the title of Warden, but he'd stepped away from the position and let Oyun carry out the rites so that he could focus on medicine. before the start of the game, Isidor discovered someone had been infected with the sand plague and began to take measures to prevent it; he knew that to make a cure, he would need the sacred blood from the abattoir, but also that oyun/BV wouldn't allow him access to it -- so, after doing some other errands, he went to big vlad to try to convince him to let isidor take the blood / get oyun to stand down! unfortunately it was like 2am at the time and big vlad got annoyed at being woken up under threat of doom, ignored him and sent him away, and was like "ok oyun let's just kill him now".

so isidor had been preparing himself to challenge oyun formally, but oyun came in and murdered him first :-)

the actual timeline goes like this:

isidor informs oyun that he intends to reclaim the position of Warden before leaving for the steppe; he expects oyun to vacate the sacred stones by the time he gets back

isidor buries the blood of an infected person in the steppe, hoping to prevent an outbreak, and returns to his house. while he's in the steppe, he encounters a woman who says she's going "to the warm people"; at some point, he tells rubin about this encounter, but nothing else (it's unclear at what time)

murky sees him "sit down for a long time and not move"

grace sees him burn all of his clothes, wipe down his body and then burn the rag (to be clear. he did get dressed again before continuing to do things)

isidor writes diary entry p.133, which is the List of children

this is probably also where he writes his letter to artemy

past midnight, isidor leaves his house and visits Simon; they converse in simon's Focus for some time

after simon, isidor goes to the Lump and knocks on BV's door to try to convince him of the danger. BV rejects this out of hand, so isidor tells capella about it instead

somewhere along the way isidor tells young vlad that "some kind of outbreak started in the steppe camps"

isidor also visits governor saburov to warn him of "an upcoming storm", which saburov assumes is riots in the Termitary (it's unclear where this falls in the timeline; possibly before simon?)

at this point, sticky broke into isidor's house to see whether he'd brought anything cool back from the Steppe (seriously it was just b/c he was a kid trying to see interesting things); he hides inside a wardrobe upon hearing him return

notkin tries to see what's happening at isidor's house as he's returning, but isidor chases him off and won't let him get close

sticky (scared, hiding) hears isidor "pour some water or something", then oyun comes in; they converse for some time, then all goes quiet

eventually sticky notices a silhouette in the room, one with "the head of a woman but a lump of a body" that he thinks is a spirit; it's said to glide around the room rather than walking

about two hours later sticky notices isidor is dead

plague devours the town -_-

[historia-gloria]

Okay probably no one cares but I’ve got takes so here they are:

The Town-On-Gorkhon but make it DND!

Artemy Burakh is a tiefling, with skin the colour of freshly spilled blood. His horns are large, bull-like, but there is a sliver of light that connects them, like a halo. He has cloven hooves like a cow and a long tufted tail. All of the other Burakhs were aasimars. He's a cleric of Mother Boddho like his father wanted, but he's a War Domain cleric. Artemy is everything the Burakhs wanted, and yet none of it. He was often called half cursed, half blessed for his appearance.

Daniil Dankovsky is a half Drow, with gently pointed ears and skin with a deep purple tint. His father was a Drow, his mother a human. Part of the reason he wanted to conquer death is he won't get his father's near immortality. His father was insistent on him following the family path of monkhood and battlefield work, but Daniil refused, falling out badly with his father after his mother died. He decided to study necromancy to try to understand death better. He feels like neither part of the human world nor the elven one.

Clara is not, in fact, a changeling. She's a kalashtar with a very stubborn and unruly second soul. She appears human, aside from her hair which is pure, brilliant white. She has no memory before finding herself in the Town-On-Gorkhon, assuming her second soul was controlling her then. She is a celestial patron warlock, tied to the concepts of miracles. She is a pact of the Tome warlock, well studied.

The Saburovs and the Olgimskys are human families, though Victoria the White Mistress was an elf. Both Capella and Vlad the younger are half elven. Capella takes after her mother, a prophecy cleric worshipping the idea of Fate itself.

The Kains are a high elven family, but even then, Simon Kain had made it nearly 100 years past a century. Khan feels awkward about his elven nature but he's nearly a hundred now and very wise for it.

The Town-On-Gorkhon is mainly human, half elven and elven, with a general sprinkling of other races.

Taya Tycheek is a minotaur, born to human parents and thus is a miracle to the Kin. It has happened a few times and always has been viewed as an omen of great change that they shall need a strong leader to survive through. She will be a druid given a little more time.

Grace is a kalashtar grave cleric, focused on putting the dead to rest correctly. She holds more power than she thinks.

Notkin is a tabaxi rogue. Tabaxi are rare and he compensated for that with the gang, surrounding himself with kids who trust him.

Sticky is a dragonborn alchemist, one of very few dragonborn in the town. He's a black dragonborn which helps him remain unseen commonly.

Murky is a tiefling druid, with yellowy skin, the colour of swevery petals. Her parents were human. She is second only to Taya in being able to understand Mother Boddho and has similar bull-like horns to Artemy.

Lara Ravel is half elven, from a family of half elves. Her father taught her how to fight early on and she keeps her knowledge and her weapons sharp. She’s a battle master fighter.

Stakh Rubin is human. He wanted to be a cleric, like Isidor, but he could not understand Isidor's faith in Mother Boddho and so could never be the healer he wanted to be.

Bad Grief is a gnomish rogue. His tiny fingers are light and playful, never straying completely from the law, even in his underground tradings and gangs.

Yulia is a wood elf, fitting in easily with the high minded elites of the Kains. She is of middling age, giving her a very unique concept of Fate and time.

Anna Angel is a human, though she is desperate to act as though she is fey in some way. The woman she stole her face and voice from was a Changeling woman.

Foreman Oyun is also human, though he constantly wears a bull mask and pretends as though he is a minotaur to keep his place in the Kin. Artemy finds this out towards the end. He is a zealot barbarian.

Peter and Andrey Stamatin are metallic dragonborns, both of them are artificers, with a level in sorcerer. Peter is a silver dragonborn and Andrey is a bronze dragonborn. They and Sticky are the only dragonborns in the town. 

Eva Yan is also human, though much happier than Anna Angel. She has a single level in cleric, dedicated to the Cathedral as a space of faith.

Aspity is a changeling druid, connected again to Mother Boddho, but she is not blessed in the way that Murky and Artemy are. 

Aglaya Lilich is half elven, which she often used to manipulate Daniil whilst she was in the Town-On-Gorkhon. 

Alexander Block is also human, which he has used to throw weight around over the less human healers, especially Artemy.

The Fellow Traveller is a dwarf, the only one in the one within the Town-On-Gorkhon. He is playful and smirking and knows way too much. He's a rogue, with a very good knowledge of the fourth wall.

Mark Immortell is a red Lizardfolk, who is always knows far too much. He's a college of eloquence bard with several levels in divination wizard.

The Kin are separate races, with the Herb Brides being Saytrs, known for their dancing.  The Worms are Earth Genasi, carved from Mother Boddho herself. The Butchers are Goliaths, taught in druidic ways to know the lines. They're more druidic than clerical in their worship.

[zapphattack]

WiP: Witness Marks

Public execution in TOG, a witnessing, a clash of ideals and morals - prompt

obs: in lieu of a context, i suppose i am free to take the liberty of taking inspiration from the rp for the context of the execution, given that it works out as a mutual point of interest of the characters depicted whilst being a scene that will never actually be witnessed by them since they’ll be doing something else at the time of the execution anyway. this way i won’t be stealing a scene away from the rp but don’t need to make up an entire context - C

Children would always find a way to witness the parts of the world adults claimed to be improper for their eyes. A son staying up too late and overhearing the business of his parents, slinking back down to his room and making it a gravesite for the memory. “It’s part of being a child. It’s part of staying a child.” For undisturbed memories which you could relive endlessly and violations of the taboos of the society of men did indeed come most frequently in youth. It was a reality most common for a boy to watch grownups warily through cracks on the roofing or slits on the windows, observing the chasms of impropriety hidden from impressionable eyes during most hours. “More than actually growing, it’s collecting secrets that’s the biggest part of becoming an adult.” A child perhaps is like a lockbox of adult secrets until they themselves became the adults whose secrets they bore. 

It was a matter of perspective if the hidden worlds of children and adults collided or were of mutual exclusivity, if one witnessing the other was a trait of self-determination or a sign of transition. Caspar Kain would say children are defined in opposition to adults, that to adhere to the rules of adults was to be integrated, perhaps even consumed, that it was exclusively a child’s place to witness the affairs of their elders in spite of custom. Notkin, on the other hand, always in opposition to Khan, intentionally or not, found intruding on the world of adults to be the sobering experience that matured a child into one, a slow corruption, though childhood wasn’t a virtue in itself. 

Khan perched on the steady arm of the statue adorning his family home’s courtyard, feeling the docile breeze of a low altitude, wistfully wishing for the bite of whistling winds, such as those that ran by the Polyhedron’s peak. Indifference touched the surface of his skin from within as he watched laborers toil in the construction of a stage, preparing for a spectacle with no encore, the closing of the curtains of a life. Thinking of it so poetically left Caspar cynical, wondering how one could sanitize an execution into an affair of entertainment. It was mere necessity that tied ropes around men’s necks, it was pragmatism that pulled the trigger. Any satisfaction gained from such business was entirely up to the mind of the beholder or executioner. 

The workers spared by the theater director worked much more efficiently and animatedly than the men of the watch, chatting amicably as they hammered nails onto what may as well be a coffin, following the familiar motions of stage maintenance and construction. The Inquisitor’s men simply supervised silently, looking like carrion birds in their expectant stillness. Caspar wondered if the Polyhedron was built in such mundane circumstances by such menial labor. 

The morning hours were soon to end, bringing the town closer to the moment of Artemy Burakh’s fated demise. The apathy with which people passed by the makeshift site spoke to the widespread sentiment about the man himself and life in general in recent times, although whichever conclusion he was pondering was cut short by uneven footsteps at his blind spot, strides languidly coming to a halt at the base of the statue. Caspar looked down to see Notkin crack his fingers before heaving himself up the pedestal, sitting with his bad leg dangling. Only when he settled comfortably did he look up at Khan, tired eyes still bearing some levity, though it was clearly insincere. “Mornin’.”

Caspar’s breathing stuttered a bit, caught between the casual greeting and the visible signs of injury on the other boy. “...Lovely day for an execution, don’t you think?” His tone of voice was flat, not dignifying the event with the weight one would expect. Notkin’s eyebrow twitched, but he was otherwise silent, seeming exhausted beyond what should be reasonable for someone not bedridden. “You look like you had a brush with death yourself.”

“Astute observation there, Khan.” The boy sighed, posture relaxing not in comfort but a resigned concession, like an animal going limp in the grip of a predator. “How about you don’t  comment on things you know nothing about?” With his eyes closed and fists unclenched, the lines of his body and face seemed soft, maybe even refined. Caspar wondered for a bit where the delicate grace came from before realization struck him with the memory of his reflection, a foggy mirror in the hallway of a home he only recently returned to. This was fragility, like hollow china, a person drained of what had once made them greater than whole. He knew those slightly curled fingers, shaking almost imperceptibly; he was familiar with slightly parted lips and lidded eyes; all signs of dulled senses and blunted intentions he saw in himself ever since losing his everything were present in this boy sitting just below him.

Khan flexed his fingers, knowing the circulation would never return to them the same way. “I know better than you think.” Notkin seemed to almost willfully ignore him, but the fugue of mourning was dispersed momentarily by a real flicker of emotion in his eyes, widened in reaction.

“The Dogheads…” Notkin spoke with not a drop of old grudges in his tone, pausing the syllables as if dragging them back, as if the effort would somehow stop them from leaving. They both knew better than to expect to keep anything they ever loved at this point.

Khan crossed his legs and leaned forward a bit to maintain eye contact, feeling somewhat relieved to have someone else’s problems to concern himself with. “Then the Souls didn’t fare any better, did they.” There was no point in phrasing it as a question. “My condolences, Notkin.” Caspar hoped the honesty shone through, though he felt shame for the real strain in his voice.

His rival’s expression pinched, a complicated cocktail of reactions fighting over predominance. “...I’m sorry about your Dogheads. I bet they put up a good fight.” Caspar considered almost hysterically how they seemed to be adding to each other’s grief but paradoxically comforting the other.

“I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t there.” ‘I was with you’ went unspoken, but it weighed like a mantle soaked in blood. 

Notkin’s eyebrows furrowed and he bit his lower lip, looking like a child that had yet to ever process a new emotion. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t regret it.” Caspar himself wasn’t sure if he meant that, but he would fight for it to be true. “I’m ashamed, perhaps even humiliated, but I don’t regret it.” He’d wondered what it said about him, late at night, lying on his soft bedding and imagining the best of his wards in rough cots, at worst on their deathbed. It was painful to come to terms with how readily he would say he’d let it happen again, not out of a sense of predetermination, but merely due to the logical conclusion that he would still choose to have consulted with Notkin while his domain was violently ravaged. He considered it may be cowardice to so easily accept powerlessness in this situation. 

The other boy let go of his lip, now red and torn at points, withdrawing a pathetic few raisins from his pocket and practically inhaling them. Notkin swallowed with his eyes tightly shut, and perhaps Khan was jumping to conclusions when he imagined that the boy’s throat must be ravaged, thirst and sickness worsening the condition of where he’d likely shouted until he could no longer summon his voice, one boy crying for dozens of his silenced friends. 

Caspar was broken out of his reverie by movement on the square before the Cathedral, a small crowd slowly expanding while officials of differing ranks and authorities bustled lifelessly, exchanging papers and curt orders. Aglaya Lilich stood on the improvised stage, murmuring lowly with Daniil Dankovsky, both of them pensive but focused. It was a matter of time before the event started, and his companion seemed to draw the same conclusion. Neither of the boys looked at each other as they spoke, too busy surveying the spectacle to come. “Out of all the things anyone with the Inquisitor’s power could be doing while we all die at the hands of this fucking plague, they’re wasting resources to kill a person instead.”

Khan wondered if Notkin was reaching an emotional breaking point or if this topic of discussion seemed to him like a worn debate, perhaps even a source of comfort. It said much about their situation that gossiping about an execution was a refreshing break from the circumstances of their lives. “It’s about morale. Besides, the man is partially responsible for the death toll, given his responsibility and how he butchered it.” 

Notkin looked at him over his shoulder, an askance expression that somehow didn’t convey the weight of a debate about a man’s life. “Killing him won’t solve anything.” The way he looked at Khan conveyed all the old arguments he’d ever given before, though now there was an edge of desperation, as if he wanted to revive his convictions for the sake of his sanity. “Burakh may be incompetent at the worst times, but his attitude and failures don’t mean he deserves death.”

“His few virtues don’t mean he deserves life either.” Caspar’s apathy was genuine, though a part of him did find Notkin to be within reason to protest. “The man was careless and volatile, his intervention did very little to assist those in need.”

His rival glared up at him, and the restlessness of his posture pointed to a coiled urge to move, maybe tug on Khan’s leg, if only to let out some of that bottled energy, childish though the gesture was. “He saved your life! You’d-” Notkin interrupted himself, clearing his throat with a grimace and pinched eyes. “You’d be dead twice over if it weren’t for him.”

The gentle breeze had stopped a while ago, leaving the district in a miasma, as if the world itself held bated breath. “He was only doing his due diligence.” The open air almost paradoxically muffled their conversation, the only real witness of it the sky and perhaps the statue upon which they perched. Two birds on a wire, two boys of very different feathers. “If anyone did more for me than they ought to, it was only you.” His eyes shifted away from Notkin, wandering the faceless crowd, up the buttresses of the Cathedral, catching on crows and doves roosting on the eaves. The sky was clear in the most unfortunate way, completely smeared with a homogenous steel gray.

Caspar could feel Notkin’s eyes still on him, perhaps even more intently than before. “...What does that even mean?”

“Whatever you make of it.” He shifted sideways, lying cradled by the statue’s arm, still following the horizon with his gaze. “Burakh’s death, deserved or not, will serve a purpose. Isn’t that more than can be said for his pathetic attempts in life?” 

The cruelty of the statement seemed to quell something stirring behind Notkin’s eyes. “Nobody gets to decide who lives and who dies, much less for their own purposes.” 

Khan shrugged, spotting a group of Saburov’s watchmen escorting the governor and a hunched figure he was all too familiar with. “It’s what happens. Those in power will manage it as they see fit, and the pawns fall accordingly. The Inquisitor, Saburov, Fat Vlad…” Caspar tilted his head slightly to indicate the oncoming procession.

“And you.” The boy’s response was flat as he stood up, biting back a groan, leaning on the body of the statue for leverage. Caspar didn’t think Notkin had any real affection for Artemy Burakh, but the way he pursed his lips revealed a vulnerable sympathy that some would call naive. He himself wasn’t sure if that was the case or not, despite disagreeing inherently. “You’re neither a judge nor an arbiter, life and death aren’t tools for you to wield so callously.”

“Neither are you, so you can’t decide what I can or cannot do.” He looked at Notkin’s clenched jaw out of the corner of his eye, seeing something similar to a powerless frustration one might feel upon seeing a bull be led to the slaughter, which seemed an apt metaphor. “I don’t know about the Inquisitor, but I don’t expect everyone to agree with my choices. In the end, I sleep better at night knowing my actions are lessening the violent and insidious disorder that runs amok.”

Notkin met his eyes evenly, crossing his arms. “I’m happy for you. At least you can sleep at all, knowing the consequences of your actions.” There wasn’t much to tell apart sincerity from irony, it was as if Notkin himself spoke without knowing how he felt.

As Burakh was led onto the stage, Aglaya and Saburov met eyes with a respectful nod, some satisfied solemnity straightening their postures before the governor raised a hand to dismiss his men and allow the Inquisitor’s peons to take their place. The gathering onlookers spoke in hushed whispers, roiling like the currents of the river in a steady rumble, and though nothing could be heard above the lilting comments, a charged exchange seemed to take place between Dankovsky and Burakh in the periphery of the Inquisitor and governor’s succinct conversation. Khan couldn’t help but shift to sit properly facing the event, sneaking a glance at Notkin. He couldn’t describe what exactly passed between their gazes as their eyes met, but it had a drop of kinship otherwise unknown previously.

“Think we’ll ever be in that position?” Khan couldn’t help but ask, looking intently at Dankovsky’s affronted expression, the tension in the man’s frame like a coiled serpent readying a strike. 

Notkin huffed, gesturing between the actors onstage. “Which one? I doubt either of us would be an Inquisitor. Seems I'm the likeliest candidate for cadaver. Thinking about executing me, are you?” Burakh looked solemn, nodding along and murmuring interspersed comments to Dankovsky, though his deadened eyes scanned the crowd, a man looking back at the people he swore to protect, now apathetically watching him be sentenced to capital punishment at the hands of the Capital dandy. The irony was scornfully delightful, though only a cold dread remained when Artemy’s eyes met Khan’s for a moment.

Caspar looked sideways at his rival, feeling a levity foreign to the ongoing context.”If I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t be here.” To think casual death threats during an execution would be the most relaxed he felt in such a long time. 

With a final nod, Saburov stood back with his hands behind his back, looking the picture of a dutiful governor, though the sallow skin and creased clothes told of what town he was governor of. The Inquisitor stood taller, chin raised and chest puffed, projecting her voice between the tall walls of the Cathedral and Crucible. “Artemy Burakh, by order of the Governor and with the acquiescence of the Inquisitor, you have been sentenced to death by execution. Your crimes of violence, malpractice and neglect speak for themselves. Have you anything to say for yourself, knowing it will not change your fate?”

Having little interest in the event itself, Caspar slid down from where he sat and leaned on the statue beside Notkin, scrutinizing his companion’s pensive expression. He mildly kept track of Burakh’s response, listening to the deep rumble of the man’s disused voice. “I didn’t commit those crimes, so I have no excuses to give for acts I don’t claim. As for my failings as a healer, I admit I did not accomplish the miraculous, but neither did any of my colleagues. My only hope is that this will change after I’m gone.” The man turned to Dankovsky, melancholic regret clashing with bitterness in his expression. The Bachelor was impassive but for a sharpness in his eyes, venomous and unforgiving. 

Notkin’s breathing quickened ever so slightly, chest rising and falling with a few stutters, minor grimaces passing over his visage in moments of pain. Caspar wondered what wounds would be painted on him underneath his shirt, how painful it must’ve been to walk to this place just to witness the tail end of a tragedy. Aglaya hummed shortly before cutting the silence. “I’m sure your colleagues appreciate the hope. One of them deigned to request a direct role in your death, however, so perhaps your conscience shouldn’t be so clear. Daniil Dankovsky, at your discretion.”

The Bachelor stepped forward, putting himself side by side with Burakh before quickly turning and pointing a revolver at his head point blank. His lips moved, though no words could be heard above the murmurs of the crowd. Burakh fell to his knees, facing Dankovsky with clear eyes and parted lips. The anticipation made it clear the executioner was seconds away from pulling the trigger, and Caspar felt Notkin’s fingers twitch next to his hand, touching him like static electricity. Khan felt the need to keep his eyes straight ahead, unblinking, observing the execution with full clarity, so he could very clearly distinguish the next words formed soundlessly by Dankovsky’s lips. “Vade in pace.”

The gunshot didn’t startle him as much as Notkin jerking his head aside in anticipation, and he was keenly aware of the head that fell onto his shoulder, the shaking of his rival’s lips with each unsteady intake of air, the fingers clenched in his from an overlooked movement. Silence finally settled upon the street once the body fell with a dull knock on the tainted stage. Caspar wondered why he felt as if the blood splashed on his face from this distance, an impossible sensation, though he reached with his free hand to wipe his cheek, looking down and seeing his fingers clean as they were before. If his body was clean, then that meant it was his soul that was tainted. He exhaled, feeling as though he’d let go of his last memory of Artemy Burakh, a man he had no lost love for. 

Caspar felt the time pass, in his mind and at his fingertips, holding his pocketwatch and feeling the ticks. In the courtyard of the Crucible he could allow himself to relax, letting the surroundings fade away and simply processing the events of the past while. They sat close together for long enough that the stage was almost completely disassembled by the time Notkin moved again, though it was only to unfold his bad leg from where it was bent in his crouch, letting it lie parallel to Caspar’s own outstretched leg. He was completely still as he paid attention to Notkin, picking at all the reasons he could imagine for the boy to shut down so easily, especially in his presence. Exhaustion, pain, shock, fear, anger, sadness. All the terrible feelings in the world didn’t explain why he’d allow himself the vulnerability to be in such a state with Khan, but he realized that pondering it any more would only serve to stick needles in his own heart as if the source of the bleeding wasn’t the whole.

“Khan… What’s real?” He felt Notkin lift his head, hooking his chin on Caspar’s shoulder to regard him tiredly. “What do we have left?”

Caspar gazed at him sideways, expecting brokenness and being met with resolve. This wasn’t a question coming from a place of despair, but a tangible gathering of thoughts. Khan had refused to consider his losses as irreversible, yet here was Notkin facing the abyss with wit and determination. “...You shouldn’t be asking me this. I was never taken with reality, was I.” Either he’d lost circulation in his fingers and was getting phantom sensations or Notkin tightened his hold, and it was impossible to tell which possibility was more real. “You tell me.”

His companion licked his lips, hooking the fingers of his free hand with his thumb and cracking the joints. “...Do you think you could get your Dogheads back?” Caspar felt his breath catch before he could consciously react, a sting behind his eyes giving little warning before he felt a warm tear intersect the phantom bloodstain on his cheek. Notkin reached out to wipe it away with gentleness Caspar hadn’t felt in a lifetime, and the action was entirely self-defeating, prompting him to weep more, feeling a bone-deep shame for how the touch finally seemed to remove the stain of death from his face. “Then we’re reduced to equals again. I have you, you have me, nobody has us. Not even Burakh is here anymore, nothing ties us together.”

“No longer bound, are we.” Caspar felt more unmoored by this than when he had willingly left his place in the Kain estate. No love was lost, but the finality of Artemy’s death brought into question every other loss sustained thus far, leaving little room for doubt as to the conclusion. There was nothing left of the futures they had built themselves. “What will you do now?”

His rival sighed, lifting their joined hands in accident, as if he’d forgotten they were held, and something in the gesture gave him pause. He brought Caspar’s hand to his chest, covering it with his own, looking down at them in thought. “Wait for it to stop, I suppose. Same as always.” The rhythm of his heart was faster than Khan’s, and to him it felt as if it were restrained by the ribcage, an irrational sort of thought, and Caspar wondered what it would feel like to hold that gentle but steadfast heart. It took him a moment to realize he already was, in a way. 

Caspar didn’t know what else was left of his dreams, so all he could bring himself to say was “I’ll wait with you. Always.”

[cryptictwaddle]

hey sorry for reblogging you 40 times on whomst-is-hex I was trying to find your family guy death pose posts and got distracted by the idea of Artemy Burakhs transgender swag

i’m always captivated by Artemy Burakhs transgender swag so i understand

[silenthillmutual]

🍊, 🍑, 🍏 for the fruit-themed fic asks

Who’s a character you don’t write for that often, but keep meaning to write for more? (They’re so interesting! But maybe you have trouble pinning them down, or keep getting distracted by another blorbo…)

I know I've only written one Saw fic so far, but I'd love to try writing for Amanda Young at some point in time. She's my favorite apprentice, and I think it would be fun to try my hand at her inner workings. She's a complex character, a poor little meow meow, all that jazz. Unfortunately this might require me to have a better grasp of the Saw timeline, so that is kind of holding me up.

If you could make a connection between your favorite character and another work you care about (whether a crossover/fusion or a wonderfully “pretentious” literary reference) what would it be? How would it work?

Oooo okay well, I recently read a fic that was taking the Burakh family home and some ideas from Kitty Horrorshow's game Anatomy to create an idea of how the house becomes remodeled. I liked that a lot! But it got me thinking, since I've recently read it, about the Burakh family home being a sort of Navidson affair. Or maybe comparing the Town itself to the ever-growing labyrinth of the house on Ash Tree Lane. I feel like that would be a step to the left from Silent Hill AU. I feel like the idea of the town as the ever-expanding labyrinth would work really well with a Marble Nest situation... something about the town morphing to fit the psyche of whomever the protagonist currently is. Hell, the theatre could be that kind of a liminal space. If the whole game is a play production, who's to say we ever left the theatre to begin with? It's something I can put on the backburner :)

Is there something you overuse, whether it’s a certain phrase, trope, or piece of punctuation?

You know, I'm not sure! I actually make a concerted effort not to repeat myself in my writing, at least from piece to piece. I even try to make it so my paragraphs don't begin the same way page by page. I think I'm getting worse with useing semi-colons, though, and dashes. I don't want my sentences to be too short. I feel like that's boring. So I've wound up reusing those punctuation marks a lot... I think my OCD fics also suffer from looking too stylized. I personally like it, but I can see how it wouldn't be appealing to others. To each their own!

[shmowder]

Okay, AroAllo Daniil is lovely, but have you heard about AroAllo Artemy who:

Brings sticky and Murky along on your outings because it's the three people he loves most in the world together.

Takes you home on the second date to show you his bull pet in his backyard. Look at how cool the bull is. Isn't he cool? He'll teach you this steppe song about bulls he likes.

Loves his childhood friends immensely. Hugging, cuddling, and even the occasional forehead kisses for them. His friends are your friends, and he helps introduce you to them.

His sense of commitment and love outweighs all of his morals at times. For someone to be so moved by familial and platonic love that he'd move mountains.

Genuinely enjoys having you over, let's you help him sort through the herbs while he brews the tinctures.

Aftercare with him is very light-hearted in nature. A lazy bliss of basking in the aftermath of relief together, he pulls you closer to his chest. The clean up can wait, what's important is that you're with him here and he wants you drifting off to the sound of his heartbeat.

The kin clearly see how much you mean to him and treat you with the same respect reserved for a Menkhu's spouse. Herb brides are more friendly with you, steppe women include you when gossiping about their neighbours, butchers ask you about Burakh and if you require any help or assistance.

To be with him is to be part of a community that really looks out for its people. Sharing food and helping each other, accepting their differences and quirks.

[serialadoptersbracket]

Round 3, Match 19: Artemy Burakh vs. Kazuma Kiryu

Submitted kids:

Artemy Burakh: Murky and Sticky (+others)

Kazuma Kiryu: Haruka, Ayako, Eri, Riona, Izumi, Taichi, Koji, Mitsuo, and Shiro

Propaganda under the cut!

Artemy Burakh:

1. “Pathologic is not the kind of game you expect to make your mother instincts kick in but it indeed does.

The adoption spree starts with the second game protagonist, Artemy, being given a list of 7 children who will inherit the city one day. He does become an important figure in their lifes, but truly adopts only two. Orphans named Murky and Sticky.

After learning about a secret hideout his father had, he goes to check and Sticky is just there. He was a some sort of a student of his father, but didn't learn much. Artemy calls him a stray cat and later house imp, but lets him stay. Slowly they grow close with Artemy promising to teach Sticky how to become a doctor. Throughout the game they have a ton of cute moments with Sticky trying to help the best he can, but breaking equipment while Artemy is away. Also they needed to fix the brewing machine and sticky said he has a guy who owes him one. When they arrive at the place the first thing he says is "distract him the best you can while I work". After you complain about it, he first says he needs stealing to survive, but then calls it the form of art. It's impossible not to love him.

Murky is a lonely autistic girl who lives in a train cabin by herself. With each day you play she slowly starts staying by your house more and more. In the middle of the game Artemy had to catch a deadly plague for her to survive. It can interpreted as her fault, but right after he finds her and asks to come back home. Throughout the game she often says "I don't love you. There is no reason for me to love you". But after getting sick herself she finally says "I love you and always loved". Bro I cried. Also the most important part. Her russian name is Mishka. It can be translated as teddy bear or bear cub. Artemys childhood nickname is Bear and his home is called "lair". Bear family...

Sticky and Murky often argue between themselves, but reconcile in the end. One time he stole some sugar and made a lollipop for her... She says "I don't mind having kinda brother" the same way she says "I don't mind being your kinda daughter" to Artemy.

In one of the game endings they stand in front of artemys old house asking if they will live there and which rooms they can take.

Children adoption: successful”

Link to the rest coming soon!

Kazuma Kiryu:

1. “There's a pretty big section of one of the game that's entirely about taking care of all those kids and it's all really sweet !”

2. “How the fuck did he get 9. There’s like 6-8 games where he’s the main character and he adopts haruka rlly early, but then in one game in the middle of the series, in the beginning like opening scenes he’s like avtually fuck it I’m adopting an ENTIRE orphanage/eight WHOLE children. (not a bit like. He actually did that) he’s the silliest billy badass old man. Grampy Kiryu also, bc haruka has a kid now.”

[arysthaeniru]

I got tagged by @omicheese, SO long ago, to write a list of 10 favourite characters, each from a different media! This is so hard!

1. Kira Nerys - Deep Space 9

One of the most complex, interesting characters in the show, who balances trauma, badassery and vulnerability really well. I adore how much thought Nana Visitor put into her personality; her struggles with religion, compromise and leadership are genuinely great to watch. Also she is such a closeted lesbian and it is a disaster to watch her date bland white man after bland white man, seeking a safe man after a lifetime of fear, not realizing she's been in love with Jadzia this whole time...

2. Haruka Sawamura - Yakuza

Although the writers never want to acknowledge her trauma, I find her people-pleasing and her forced happiness such a fascinating part of her. Having to deal with essentially becoming the emotional crutch to Kiryu at such a young age because Kiryu can't process his own emotions well, and then essentially being the second parent at the orphanage as Kiryu keeps running off to Kamurocho, and then becoming an idol in order to save her orphanage from debt, even though being an idol wasn't really her dream anyway... She's so interesting, and the way she swallows her trauma and takes in all the wrong lessons from Kiryu's arcs makes her genuinely so good and interesting!

3. Artemy Burakh - Pathologic

For all that I have...problems with parts of Pathologic especially when it comes to depiction of the Kin, Artemy really is such an interesting, nuanced protagonist. His journey of figuring out what it means to balance honouring his indigenous heritage while also navigating the racism of his society and also grief of losing his father while also acknowledging his father's mistakes, and managing this new family of children he's stumbled upon, as well as trying to revive old friendships....it really is such a great arc, and I love him. His arc is about love, even though he doesn't think he's worthy of it. (But also Taya and Capella are also here in spirit because I love them SO much).

4. Edelgard von Hresvelg - Fire Emblem

My little revolutionary meow meow! I love how determined yet conflicted Edelgard is as a person, certain of the arc of her story, but uncertain what the exact beats must be. When it comes down it, I love characters who think of themselves as weapons learning what it is to be human again! It's such a vulnerable, interesting process to entangle, and her friendships and her relationships are always so delightful to think about. Edelgard's arc in Three Houses is about the fallacy of red-brown alliances in leftist politics, actually, and how it can harm your own cause and compromise your vision ❤

5. Aino Minako - Sailor Moon

Mina-chan is such a fun supporting character. I love how ditzy and absent-minded she is for things she doesn't care about, and yet how determined and unrelenting she is about her dreams and ambitions. I loved her grappling with what she really wants from life, having been a Sailor Scout for the longest time and wondering what else she wants to be, who else she could become! I also LOVE her willingness to date four or five people at a time—she is the avatar of love, after all.

6. Riju - Breath of the Wild

My baby! I have no idea why she's in charge, nothing about the Gerudo politics seems to imply that they have a hereditary monarchy, so really, there's no reason for a 15 year old to be in charge, but logic be damned. I see a precocious child burdened with the weight of legacy and responsibility and I have to stan them. (It's why Taya and Capella were shortlists for my fave from Pathologic). The themes are too good and she's one of the best units in Hyrule Warriors. I wish she had better clothes though, she deserves a skirt that actually covers her legs.

7. Azula - Avatar the Last Airbender

My first crush ever, I continue to stan evil women with great senses of fashion!! I find her such an intriguing character and although the show often spends time telling us Azula is clever and manipulative instead of showing us (the Ba Sing Se arc made...zero sense), she's such a clear threat and powerhouse and yet so vulnerable and on the edge at the same time. She is the ultimate representation of how the Fire Nation's fascism has destroyed the idea of childhood altogether, and I think her menace is only added to by the fact that she's deeply emotional about her people, even as she cruelly manipulates them to do her bidding.

8. Anthy Himemiya - Revolutionary Girl Utena

It's about the cycles, it's about the victimhood, its about finding power in being reviled, even as it rips you apart, it's about taking humour in your imprisonment because what else can you do—and then the bright, blinding hope that comes from love and letting somebody in, giving them a chance to help set you free. I love Anthy so much, and it's so important that she's a brown woman. (Though Wakaba is close second because...Wakaba!!!!)

9. Dominic Ash - DIE Comic

DIE is genuinely one of the best comics out there, gutting and powerful and adult in all the best ways, and Ash is my problematic, manipulator fave right in the centre of it all. I love how often Ash uses their power to try and force their friends to follow their bidding and are unable to truly control the consequences of doing so, driving all but Isabelle away. I love how afraid they are of their power corrupting them, yet taking the plunge anyway, for the sake of the greater good. And I love their struggles with love, parenthood and the escapist fantasy of being powerful and desired within the role-playing game, and not necessarily wanting to go back to real life.

10. Glimmer - She-Ra and the Princesses of Power

Glimmer's such a fun character, desperate to be grown up enough to take on the revolutionary fight and desperate to get better at controlling her own magic and so desperately jealous of her friends' power and terrified she's inadequate and they'll leave her. I love her parallels with Catra and Adora, I adore her thrill-seeking tendencies and her extreme desire to be above-all-else helpful. I love how easily she pushes herself over her limits for the sake of her friends, and how disastrous those choices usually are... also her character design is top-tier.

With absolutely zero-pressure involved, I tag @iammissingautumn @ishtarstripdying @corvidfeathers @touchmycoat @ghostlyeris and anybody else who is interested and wants to do this!!!

[herbgroom]

time for a pseudo intellectual take

the kains, on their glorious path to achieve the impossible, paved by lies and bones, ultimately failed.

the cathedral, supposed to host a soul and become a focus, is empty. a barren womb

the polyhedron, built for simon, has been usurped by children, with no intention of giving up their kingdom

the kain family itself, is dying. georgiy has given up, victor will follow. maria, in all her mistress splendor, is barely looking through the keyhole of her mother's power

the kains lied.

but the ideas remain, just.. away from their grasps

whose voice have we heard calling us faintly from far away? chanting? singing?

whose face have we seen, fused with the space around us?

isidor burakh.

the steppe.

his resting place, the home of his soul.

the steppe is a focus.