#but she's only human and riddled with doubt

[forbidden-sunlight]

yandere!Alastor with Violet Evergarden!reader Valentine's Day scenario

Warning: aged-up!reader [in early to late twenties], obsessive behavior, vulgar language, knowledge based on the first four episodes of the 2024 series.

There may be possible triggers in this story.

If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your mobile device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.

You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!

Hey guys, welcome back to another Hazbin Hotel fic, starring Hell's one and only Radio Demon, Alastor and his little darling!

This is a collaborative piece with @isuckatwritingsobenice with special thanks to @witch-of-the-writing-desk and @riddle-simp for providing criticism and feedback. If you would like to read the one that started it all, I'll leave a link to it here.

As always, bullying is not tolerated here. If you have nothing nice to say, please do not say it. Furthermore, if you believe the warnings listed above will make you uncomfortable, please leave now.

For those who have decided to stay, sit back, relax, and let's see what's going on for tonight's broadcast :)

Although he had figured out why you were and what he needed to do to push you in the right direction, Alastor was still annoyed with what he was…feeling towards you. 

When his mother died, he had stopped feeling. There was no reason to keep feeling when the only person in his entire world was gone. Is that the reason why he became a serial killer? Who knows. Is she the reason why he keeps smiling, because he always remembered her saying that you never fully dressed without one? Absolutely! Why bother wearing a frown all the time when he could keep everyone on their toes with a smile and a salutations over the radio? 

So why is it that when he thinks about you, it is like his mind is torn between annoyance and fondness? Why does he have the urge to simply hide you away from the world and keep you all to himself instead of making your misery even greater for his own amusement? He doesn’t know and if he doesn’t figure out why, he knows he will lose his temper very soon. Charlie had already demolished  the second to last wall of his patience on the insistence that everyone in the hotel should participate in a crafting session to celebrate a human holiday. Valentine’s Day, of all things. 

He is a gentleman. And a gentleman, as his mother has always taught him, is to never raise his hand against a woman. She did not say anything about Lucifer’s delusional daughter who believes that the people of Hell can be redeemed. Even you, someone who is just as rational and calm as he, believed in her. That a sinner had a chance to go to Heaven when their actions in life are reflected on their afterlife. It’s common sense, really. 

So why couldn’t you see that? Even Vagatha was starting to have some doubts too. But she would not dare say what is truly on her mind about this passion project to Charlie’s face yet due to her incredibly strong loyalty towards the princess. 

Regardless of his observations of these two ladies, Alastor found himself caught in the enigmatic web of emotions as he observed your seemingly indifferent facade from his favorite chair in the parlor. He was not helping with decorating the hotel. You were though. You stood underneath Charlie, steadying the ladder she stood with gloved hands as she pinned strings of pink and red paper hearts over the hotel’s entryway. Vagatha was nearby, busying herself with other tasks, including asking Husk to please not drink all of the red wine, they are saving it for tonight! Angel was flirting with Husk. Husk shot a rude gesture in return. Niffty was making the hotel spotless again when she already cleaned it a few hours ago. Alastor had no idea where Sir Pentious was and frankly did not care. 

When he had decided to help with the hotel, he was just going to watch from the sidelines and let everything run its course. But there was something being formed here. A connection was beginning to make itself known and he did not like that. The Radio Demon comes and goes as he pleases without being tied down to anything or anyone. If this feeling continues to fester inside of him, why he’ll toss himself into the fiery pits just so that he could be his old self again!

“All right, these are all done!” Charlie said happily, pulling away to look at her handiwork with pride before she averted her gaze to you. “You good there, [First Name]? Sorry I had to pull you away from gardening to do this!”

“I don’t mind.” You said. [Eye Color] irises watched as the princess began to climb down, each step squealing creak-creak beneath her stilettos. “What will we do about snacks and dinner? We already have the drinks covered through Husk.” You held out a gloved hand to the princess on the third step from the bottom. Charlie gladly took it, but not before she spun you around, the bone-white skirt billowing slightly to reveal the laced-up boots on your feet. 

“Don’t worry, we’ll figure it out! In fact, I’ll make a grocery list for Niffty right now! Then we’ll need to see if we can add anything else. Ooh, maybe something for the staircase? Or the chandelier? This party is going to be so much fun! Can’t you feel the love in the air, [First Name]?!”

You blinked at her. “No.” You carefully distanced yourself away from her. “But I do remember there is something I need to bring inside before I forget about it again. I’ll be right back.”

You bowed your head to them and scurried across the parlor, making quick strides across the parlor and taking a left underneath the intricate railings of the grand staircase. There was a light click, and then there was silence. 

The hotel, constructed on the hill, possessed a limited garden space that showcased carefully manicured flora.  There was also a greenhouse. Both locations were left unexplored by Alastor because he knew the flora you had carefully tended to, and in his opinion, it was too soon to share his secret just yet. However, he did know that the door under the grand staircase, the centerpiece of the hotel’s architecture, was how you always traveled around. 

 Each corridor held secrets, inviting exploration and mystery within the confines of the Pride Ring’s overlook. But the door you took was a shortcut to whichever place you desired to go to: the garden or the greenhouse. Fifteen minutes passed, and then the door opened again. 

Walking out of the staircase, everyone saw the bright red roses cradled carefully in your gloved hands. 

Charlie squealed in delight, racing towards you with wide eyes. Vagatha followed close behind.  Angel just looked up from his phone to see what was all the ruckus in faint interest. 

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh! You did it, [First Name]! You really grew something!!” Charlie all but shouted, her excited cries bouncing across the vaulted ceilings. Vagatha leaned forward, a small smile stretching across her face. “Great job.”

“It was a little tricky, but I was finally able to figure out the proper fertilizing formula, including a place where they can get just enough sunshine but not so much that the petals would not be burned. An inch of water each week. Too much water and I might actually kill the roots.” You explained. “Since the weather doesn’t change much down here except for the occasional acid rain, these actually had time to grow.” You then took one flower, holding out to Vaggie. “For you.” You said, then placing  another one in Charlie’s hands. “And you. If you’d like to make them last for a little longer, put them in a vase with sugar water.” 

Charlie beamed. “Thank you!”

“Thanks.” Vagatha said.

 You inclined your head, then crossed the room and proceeded to pass around your hard earned flowers to everyone. You kneeled down to Niffty’s height, tucking one behind her ear before standing up. She jumped up and down in happiness, causing the flower to fall but she caught it, holding it as if it’s the most precious treasure she had ever been given. She promised to give you something in return, to which you politely declined. 

You walked over to the bar and handed a rose to Husk. He stared at the flower, then back at you before he put down the bottle he had been drinking from on the counter, plucking it from your hand. “Thanks kid.” He muttered, laying it next to him and then taking another swing of his booze. Angel immediately slid into one of the booths, grinning toothily at you. 

“Got any for me, toots?” 

You held out a rose to him. He made a flirty joke and promptly shoved it in his chest. “So~? How do I look?” He crooned, batting his eyes at you as he pushed up his chest floof right in front of your face. Honestly, when will this whore learn this is not how someone speaks to a lady?

Your countenance held a fleeting perplexity at his vulgar words and actions, your brow furrowing for a moment before your stoic expression returned…though Alastor could see…an inquisitive expression in your eyes. You were thinking about something. What he did not know and he was quite curious to see what you do next. 

So he sat in silence and watched. 

He watched you stretch your hand outwards, carefully extracting the rose from Angel’s person. Angel opened his mouth, no doubt ready to complain when he froze midway as you artfully placed it on the right side of his head. You withdrew, casting a scrutinizing gaze upon him before nodding in approval. 

“Flowers adorning your hair enhance your allure far beyond the glimmer of rainbow glitter or imitation jewels.” You said. For the first time since he arrived at the hotel, the famous pornstar Angel Dust was rendered completely speechless. The only thing he could stutter was a ‘thanks’, a faint red hue staining his pale face. 

The gradual decay of the rose in your hand did not escape Alastor’s notice and he was delighted. A manifestation of the latent powers he possessed, to cause living things within a certain distance to wither. He smirked, appreciating the subtle dance of his influence. You spun around, meeting his gaze. “Permission to approach, sir?”

Husk gagged. Vaggie groaned. He laughed. 

“Of course you can~!” He said. Oh, you were trying so hard to respect his personal space, how adorable! Goodness, hadn’t you caught on that he only touches people that he is interested in? Why, he’s touched Charlie’s shoulders so many times that he is shocked that Vagatha hasn’t tried to stab him out of jealousy!

So you approached him. But when you held out his rose to him, it was already dead. 

You were shocked but you did not need to say anything; your face, and your eyes, told him everything. He was pleased and amused all at the same time. What would you do next? He thought. You looked down at the rose, then back at him. Carefully placing the other rose, the one that wasn’t completely decayed yet, on the coffee table. Your gloved fingers coiled around the stem of his rose and deftly snapped it in half. You took another step, and leaned forward to pin it to the left side of his coat. 

You took a step back. You looked at the flower, then back at him. “It still suits you.” You said. “Although it is dead, a decayed rose suits you just as much as a fresh one.” 

Alastor felt his withered heart pulse under his skin for the briefest moment until it went still again. He knows he is a dapper of a gentleman, someone who takes pride in his appearance and knows how to use it to his advantage. But hearing your compliment made him preen in his seat. Almost. He had a reputation to uphold. 

“Coming from you my dear, that is the highest praise I had never believed would be uttered from your lips~!” He said, abruptly standing up from his chair and staring down at you with a grin. “Now that I’m all spiffed up, it’s your turn~!”

You tilted your head to the side. “I don’t understand.” You said with an expressionless face.

“I just remembered that I have an errand to run in our dear city, and I am in need of your skill sets~!” He was rambling. He knew it and it was pissing him off because the Radio Demon does not stutter or act flustered around anyone. He snapped his fingers, feeling the familiar thrum of his magic as it left his body, evaporating into a plume of red mist that covered your body before it disappeared as quickly it had come. Gone was the same outfit you wore every day, and in its place was an outfit much more suited for any self-respecting woman; a light pink sequined flapper dress, a rope of pearls around your neck with a nice little cloche hat to top it off. And he mustn’t forget the pair of white heels on your feet!

Yet just as the applause track echoed across the parlor, Alastor noticed that you looked away from him. You were uncrossing and crossing your adamantine skeletal arms, the gloved hands being the remaining piece from exposing the scars of war entirely to curious eyes.  

Oh. Oh. You were even quivering? Such a shame. 

Trying his best to ignore the disappointment gnawing at his bones, Alastor sighed and snapped his fingers again, dispelling the enchantment on you and simultaneously replacing the outfit with something….much more suited to your style, but matching him in every sense of the word. A white ruffled white blouse poking out from the collar of a red waistcoat, a matching ruffled skirt that covered your legs and stretched to your ankles, where the black-heeled stilettos peeked out from. The white gloves were dyed to onyx, and the cute hat was replaced with one that had a wider brim with a black rose stitched on the side. In your hands was a red parasol. But his favorite, personal touch was the ruby brooch shaped like a stag, like him. 

Replacing the emerald one you wore every day, supposedly in memory of Major Gilbert. The man whom you claimed did not love him romantically since you cannot love. That tad-bit he had overheard when you shared one thing about yourself in the group exercise. 

But more importantly, you no longer seemed anxious. In fact, you were back to your normal, monotone self~! How wonderful and annoying!

Alastor grinned in approval, twirling his microphone expertly between his fingers before rapping the end of it against the floor with a loud thump. “Now then, shall we be off, my dear~?” He said, extending his arm for you to take. You looked at him, then back at Vagatha before you stepped towards him, very cautiously placing your gloved hand in the crook of his arm. It took a lot of self-control to not pull away in disgust from the contact, but he held onto his composure because he is a gentleman not a brute. 

“Now then, let us be off~!” He bellowed.

“You’re supposed to actually be helping us around the hotel, not fucking off, you prick!” Vagatha yelled, her lovely silver hair standing on end as she swore in Spanish. Charlie was trying to calm her darling down with a sheepish smile, wishing the two of you a good time and don’t worry about a thing. Alastor just grinned and quickly led them out of the hotel, down the steep hill and into the city.

Though as soon the two of you were parading through the streets, you immediately pulled away from him and stood exactly five feet behind him. He could not help but feel amused by your antics, nor the relief of actually having his personal space back even when he had offered his arm for you to take, not the other way around. You knew better than to initiate contact. Although unexpected joy hummed in his veins, this…genuine connection, this bond, began to chip away around the edges of his collected facade. And as the two of you continued your walk through the Pentagram at a steady pace, there was also this irritable and irresistible annoyance starting to bloom in the back of his head and quite frankly it was beginning to give him a headache. Why is he feeling so many things at once? Can’t feelings have an arranged timetable so he doesn’t lose his reputation as a fearsome overlord? 

Why are feelings…so damn complicated? Why? 

Not wanting to sink any further between the allure of your company and his own resistance to vulnerability, Alastor began to hum a little tune to distract himself. He did not want to think. He refuses to fall even further than he already has. He turned his head slightly, gazing at you from his peripheral vision. You were looking around curiously, watching sinners live their sinful lives and probably wondering why you had earned the same damnation as they did. At least that was what he initially thought until he saw your eyes darting from the street corners, the buildings…ah. The cameras.

You were worried about Vox seeing him after he had put the little pest in his place last week? Oh, you were quite a little darling, weren’t you?

“There’s no need to be concerned about those tiny picture boxes, my dear!” He exclaimed suddenly. “This face was made for radio, the proper medium to express oneself!”  

“...You’re certain?” 

  “Of course! Now it should be around here…ah-ha! Here we are! Follow me or you might get swept up by another gentleman!” Alastor joked as he quickened his pace towards a mortar-and brick building sandwiched between two other more modern buildings on the other side of the street. The restaurant, embraced by mortar and brick, stood between modern edifices. Its interior exuded a warm ambiance, with dim lighting casting a subtle glow on polished wooden tables. The booths were nestled in the back, providing a private setting for the two of you. The menu possessed an array of culinary delights, promised a refined venison experience.

 Rosie had recommended this place to him a while back, but never got around to it after he left for his sabbatical seven years ago. You did not keep him waiting, matching your stride with his and the host’s. 

Despite just how much the host trembled in fear at the sight of him, handing out the menus and stuttering the name of their server, the host couldn’t stop staring at you with a dazzled, licentious look in his eyes. Alastor had to hold back the urge to make the server part of his menu. Or maybe he shouldn’t? Perhaps this youngster needed a reminder just who he is? 

“…Alastor? Alastor? Sir?”

Your voice called out to him, the barest hint of concern laced with curiosity before he shook himself out of his thoughts. “Yes, my dear?” He asked. 

“Are we doing a reconnaissance mission?” 

 The static around him screeched to a halt, and he stared at you with an incredulous expression. 

“I beg your pardon?”

“You had said that you needed my skill sets on this outing,” You said, blinking at him, folding your gloved hands together on the sleek wood table. “My specialties from serving in the war include that as well as hand-to-hand combat and weapon handling. Is….this about new territories that are up for the taking? Why was the extermination date moved up to six months? Or this mission on a need-to-know basis?”

…He knew you were oblivious to Angel’s flirtatious remarks and modern slang, but he did not think that it would extend that you did not know that when a gentleman takes a beautiful lady for a night around the town, it means he has the intention of courting. What sort of life had you lived before coming down here? More importantly, how does he explain without looking like a complete fool?

The Radio Demon thought for a long moment before a proverbial lightbulb went off inside his mind. Yes, he thought delightfully. That will do. Mirroring your position - spine straight, bony fingers interlaced, and placed neatly on the table, maintaining eye contact. He spoke. 

“Considering your skills-set, I wanted to see if you are truly as talented as you claim to be~! And there is no better way to evaluate a person’s worth than through a simple test. A game, if you will!” He leaned forward, pushing a wave of his powers throughout his body, releasing it from the bottom of his shoes and scattering throughout the establishment. Well, his friends at least. Now for the rules. 

“My shadows are somewhere in this restaurant. Some are easy to see at first glance, some are not~! Find all six of them, and you get a prize! If you guess incorrectly, however, then you must truthfully answer a question I will ask.  The time limit will be until we leave, and you must maintain eye contact with me at all times! Since this mission is….a personal one of mine, you must be able to blend with the crowd and not draw attention to yourself, to us, or this mission will be compromised. Any questions?” You shook your head. 

“Wonderful~!” He bellowed in delight 

And then the game began. 

Between interruptions with their server and mild conversation, you whispered where each shadow as you looked at the second side of the menu, unable to decide what to try. He obviously recommended the venison, and he would either say you found a shadow or guessed incorrectly. By the time you had informed the server of your entrees, you found three out of six. You got two tries wrong. Alastor got two questions out of you. 

“What was your life like before coming down here, my dear?” He asked. 

“I served in The Great War as a soldier of the Leidenschaftlich Army. My commanding officer was Major Gilbert Bougainvillea.” You answered. “When I was relieved from my duties, I worked at a postal company until my death.”

“And do you know what it means when a gentleman asks a young lady to join him for an outing?” 

You opened your mouth, and then closed it, confusion flitting across your face for the briefest moment until you answered him. “I do not.” You said slowly. “From my experience in the barracks, the men would escort the young ladies that have caught their interest to the pub or somewhere else…and they  would not come back until past curfew. The major would lecture them if he caught them.  He told me…it was a sex thing. But I was too young to understand what he meant back then.”  

Alastor almost choked on his venison at your words, his equilibrium thrown off for a moment before he quickly recovered, swallowing the delicious morsel and maintaining his dignity by wiping his mouth with a napkin. “I…see.” He said slowly. “And you are aware that this is not that kind of courting, correct?”

“Yes.” You answered. “Because you do not like anything related to sex, which is perfectly fine.”

“But do you know that when a gentleman courts a young lady without…that in mind, it is because he has a romantic interest in her?” He asked, staring at you straight in the eye. “And he would like to get to know a little more in a setting that does not include any third parties?”  There. He thought as he saw your eyes widen just a fraction. Understanding. You were catching onto his intentions! Finally, another emotion! You have shown him another expression besides indifference and confusion! Good job!  Now will these blasted feelings finally go away? Out of sight, out of mind as they say!

Then the look on your face melted away, becoming a mask of stoicism as you answered him softly. 

“I appreciate the sentiment….but I am afraid that I am no longer capable of feeling emotions, at least…what it truly means to love someone. It can come in many forms and is expressed differently with each person. The romantic sense…it isn’t meant for me. And I’ve come to terms with that when I was alive, and when I came here. I am grateful for what I already have.”

In the back of his mind, Alastor had actually thought he would get another reaction out of you, perhaps seeing your cheeks turn red and hear your heart thumping against your rib cage. But at the cost of hearing someone actually reject his advances?

That does not seem quite fair, does it? He chuckled darkly in amusement. 

“Hm~. You say that you are no longer capable of expressing yourself beyond a grim facade? I beg to differ, my dear. I have seen you show  discomfort, anxiety, and understanding all within a single day of being in my company. I can guarantee that’s the most I have ever seen of you since you came to the hotel.” He craned his head to one side, still smiling. “But fear not, I wholeheartedly welcome a challenge.” 

With that being said, he graciously decided to extend the little game with the progression of their meal, right up to when the waiter brought them your desserts. There were still three shadows to find, and he continued his line of questioning, observing your reactions and demeanor as you answered him. 

Alastor will not lie and say that your rejection of courtship did not bruise his pride. He was used to being feared and worshiped in a single breath. Being liked was something else entirely, yet being disliked? Quite rare, with the exception of Vox and the other Vs. 

“You can certainly keep me on my toes, darling.” He said playfully as he stood up from his seat, walking to your side and offering his hand. You stared at him owlishly before placing your hand in his gloved one. 

“My mind cannot change that easily I’m afraid, Alastor. You are wasting your time.” You said. 

“We shall see, my dear. Perhaps you just need a little more…persuasion.” He replied, before delivering the final question to you, a personal one: how many had you killed when you were a soldier? You replied. I cannot remember anymore. 

He was quite stunned at your answer…but he was satisfied, and that was all that mattered. He knew more about you than Charlie probably could ever pull out of you during a group exercise. No one else. Not Husk, Not Niffty, and certainly not Angel Dust nor Sir Pentious. And that gave him an advantage over anyone else who would be so bold as to approach you with a romantic intention. 

“I see.” He hummed. “Come, come, you’ve passed the test~! And I did promise a prize to the winner~!”

Instead of the traditional flowers, chocolates, or stuffed animals that were given to a lover on this atrocious holiday, Alastor had purchased  new ink ribbons for your Remington typewriter and another pair of leather gloves. Perhaps he will allow you to keep the outfit he dressed you up in. You did wear the same thing every day. It was better than trusting Angel Dust with upgrading your wardrobe. 

You thanked him, the barest stretch of a genuine smile stretched across your face as you cradled the bag that held your gifts before it disappeared as quickly as it came, and you focused on the road ahead. Yet to him, the fearsome Radio Demon…it was such a smile that lasted long enough to commit it to his memory, and reinvigorate his desire to pursue you. 

After all, no one else in this cesspool is worthy to court the soldier maiden of the Hazbin Hotel except for him…

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[pinktom]

What do you think pink about tomarry content creators getting abusive tomione asks suddenly? First obsidian, then I saw one more account getting and now seminar arts. Is it only one person doing all this?

Btw my jaw dropped with your no filter answer where you said that whenever harry comes the chemistry between to marry best tomione 🤣. I would love to hear more of your no filter thoughts

I have no doubt those asks were sent by trolls. I, however, am simply a hater—I see an opportunity to hate, justified or not, I pounce. x]

In ascending order, here are the reasons I think Tomione sucks.

PS: If you know this post is gonna piss you off and press "Keep Reading" anyway - that is entirely on you. Send me anon hate and I'll assume you're a masochist who wants me to spank your pert, round hinie and call you a naughty, naughty girl.

“Book nerd loves book nerd uwu” trope does not fit Tom Riddle, and I find it obnoxious.

Like I touched on when I was first sipping on that haterade, Tom Riddle values usefulness. By this logic, you could easily contrive up a scenario in which he wants to use Hermione’s skills for whatever reason. 

However, the route that is usually taken in Tomione is that Tom is … impressed … by her intellect. A woman… who is… smart? He’s intrigued. 😏 He’s never once met a smart woman in his life before. And certainly not one so independent and feisty. She doesn’t swoon over him like the other girls do (eye roll).

I never got the impression anywhere in canon that Tom Riddle cared much about intellectual pursuits beyond those which were immediately useful to his goals, so for the very basis of a relationship to be his interest in her brains – to me, it’s tedious and off-base.

And also icky honestly lkjdflkj. Hermione’s two crushes are on a couple of stinky smelly boys (Krum, Ron), where the hell do you go off acting like she wants some mysterious, twisted dark boy? I’m offended. 

Absolutely zero chemistry; once Harry steps in, it’s game over

Because these characters lack any common ground, shared values, or compelling circumstances that tether them together, there is zero chemistry. You can try to fabricate those things with a little bit of crack!cocaine, but then you’re forced to contrive a lot of additional personality traits and circumstances that diverge them from their canon selves. (Which yes, you can do, but it only works if you’re gonna do something really interesting.)

As much as people like to har har about how canon doesn’t matter, here’s the truth: yes, it does. Our communities only exist because we’re referencing shared source material. However much you can bend characters around, everyone knows each character has an essence that just “feels like them” on a deeper human level. 

As such, we all know Tom Riddle and Harry Potter are intrinsically connected to each other. In Tomione this presents a conundrum. I could cite dozens of fics, but I’ll stick to two very well-written ones I enjoyed.

In one of them, Tom was a criminal and Harry was a detective on his tail; no matter how many times Tom fingered Hermione, he was always more entangled with Harry, because the stakes and intensity between them were so much grander. Same thing with the other fic but amplified by the Horcrux bond. At their very first encounter, when Tom and Harry laid eyes on each other, they both immediately felt an arresting connection, with distrust and intrigue. Hermione instantly paled in comparison in both stories.

It’s just like the moment Harry steps into the frame, you see how transparent and superficial the “commonalities” between Tom and Hermione ever are. Books and cleverness - oh but Harry, there are more important things! Like being spiritually linked! And sharing unique and intimate traumas in common! 

Heterosexual Tom is truly disgusting to read about

Look–it’s a matter of taste. We’re all products of our environments. For me, no amount of feminism or fantasy can overrule everything I’ve seen and experienced in my life. ( ಠ_ಠ )

I don’t enjoy reading about women in relationships with men who are controlling, violent, and selfish. Even the way Voldemort treats Bellatrix in canon always makes me wince, because I see it like this … here’s this girl who grew up proud; who was beautiful, rich, extremely gifted and powerful; and she turns into this horrible sniveling creature. Say it ain't so! I wish she'd killed him when he broke her ass out of Azkaban.

But back on the topic of Tomione specifically — I think there’s another layer to it, which is the greasy self-insertion aspect which makes me uncomfortably aware of how much the author’s ginie is tingling at the idea of Tom Riddle lifting a brow and saying, “Is that so, Miss Granger?” while she scowls and tells him to fuck off !!!

It’s of course not the self-insertion in itself that’s icky. It’s more just that the type of person who wants to self-insert into that particular heterosexual scenario is, uhh, too basic for me and my big powerful fujo brain.

And I guess that's gets me to the very core of why I find Tomione basic, trifling, and underwhelming. 

Tom Riddle is allowed no faults whatsoever in Tomione

Oh, sure. He’s controlling. He’s mean. He grabs her wrist and says, “What were you doing talking to Malfoy?” 😠

But so... ? Tom Riddle is a deeply embarrassing, mentally unwell trainwreck of a person. He's so much grosser than that. Yet you do not get that feeling at all in most Tomione fics. His worst character traits are often there but they’re made to seem sexy and flattering at all times.

I’m not saying your run-of-the-mill Tomarry fic doesn’t suffer this fatal flaw too—but when it comes down to it, Tomione doesn’t allow for his unsexy fallibility, period. Because the sexiness of the ship really depends on heteronormative romantic tropes and fantasies, which tend to be quite rigid and narrow. 

And I understand and empathize with why this is; just look at Reddit, so many women in heterosexual relationships already must put up with mortifying, embarrassing, and unhygienic things (y’all know which posts I mean 🙁). 

That’s just not what I’m here for. I love Tom Riddle because he’s a superficial narcissistic lunatic with no self-awareness and emotionally stunted outlook.

I don’t want to hear how he terrified the orphans if I’m not gonna hear about how he pissed the bed and got his bare ass whipped by a mean, toothless matron for chatting in sermon. I don’t care to see him bossing around those wimps at Hogwarts if there’s not at least one student who looks at “ENEMIES OF THE HEIR BEWARE” written in blood and feels tummy-churning secondhand embarrassment.

[bluesylveon2]

600 Follower Special: Holding Out For a Villain ft. the first years

This is a gift to my followers as a thank you for making it to 600 followers! This is my take on Yuu getting kidnapped and having the first years save her. Enjoy!

Summary: When Yuu gets shipped off to an all-girls school, it is up to the first years to save her. What can go wrong?

Note: platonic first years x Yuu/reader, crack, chaos, humor, and the author not being good at naming things

Warning: not beta read and possible ooc characters

Word Count: 1.9k

Masterlist: here

CRASH

"Ugh, five more minutes Grim." Yuu groaned and buried her face in her pillow, letting her eyes drift off once more…

WOOSH

"Ah!" Yuu screamed as her blanket was rudely taken away from her. She opened her eyes to find her window broken, glass scattered across the floor (she could not wait to hear Vil crying over his masterpiece), and Crowley grinning at her. 

"Good morning, Prefect! I have a big surprise for you because I am so generous!"

"Can't this wait until later today?" Yuu asked, pulling the blanket over her head. Her mind was begging her to go back to bed. 

Crowley shook his head. "No, no. In fact, you are going to a new school!"

Yuu uncovered her face. "A what?"

Crowley wiped a tear from his yellow eyes. "You sound so excited already! The school is an all-girls school called Royal Princess Institute."

Yuu's mind was finally awake at the revelation. "You signed me up for another school?"

"Yes, and you are going right now!" Crowley randomly pulled out a large brown sack, big enough for one of the Leech twins. 

"WHAT?!" Yuu's vision became dark. She kicked and punched everywhere but, to her avail,  was only met by a cloth. 

"Have fun!"

---

"Yuu! Yuu!!! YUU!!!" Grim called out as he entered the shared bedroom. His eyes landed on the empty but disarrayed bed; no human in sight. "Yuu!" The cat monster jumped on the bed, searching for his friend, only to find her discarded phone lying on the nightstand. Grim picked up the phone, trying to figure out what to do. 

"Do I call a teacher? Her friends? What do I do?"

"Grim, is that you?" One of the ghosts asked, entering the room. "Did something happen?"

"Yuu is missing, and she left her phone!"

"Oh, I see. Crowley came by this morning telling her some news. Something about her going to a new school."

Grim's eyes widen in fear, and he felt his heart break. Did his human not care for him? Was she tired of him? He wanted to apologize for their massive tuna budget and would gladly cut it if she returned. 

The ghost sensed fear coming off of Grim's fur. "Don't worry. It was unexpected, and Yuu didn't have much say in it."

Grim let out a sigh of relief. "Which means…she was kidnapped?!" The ghost nodded, and Grim felt the fear come back. 

He needed to do something and fast.

---

Moments like these would cause Grim to gather up the best of the best. An elite team, if you will, of the brightest students of NRC. A group of people who could barge in and save Yuu from the dangers of the pink and glitter of an all-girls school when she should be back in NRC, surrounded by many teenage boys (with trauma, might he add) who overblot every month. 

It was clearly obvious which one was the favorite.

And who was the dream team? A group who could slip in and out without suspicion? The all-star, Avengers-level (Grim had no idea who these people were, but Yuu mentioned them once. Maybe they were a band?) group that would save the Prefect?

The first years. 

Well, what the first years should be. Grim began doubting his choice as Ace and Deuce fought over something meaningless. Jack watched them disapprovingly, Epel was happily chatting with Ortho, and Sebek was talking about Malleus. Just an average day in NRC. 

Maybe he should have consulted a second year like Riddle about this. Or beg one of the third years like Leona to help. 

"Oi! We have a very important topic to discuss." 

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to the cat monster. 

"What is it?" Epel asked.

"You better not be asking for money to buy tuna?" Deuce frowned, but Grim shook his head.

"It's about Yuu. She has been kidnapped and is forced to go to an all-girls school!"

Anyone could see the six brain cells processing everything. They were all imagining Yuu wearing poofy dresses and being covered in glitter. 

"WHAT?!!"

"WHY?!"

"Who knows?" Grim replied, tears forming in his eyes. "Yuu must be in danger! Who knows what kind of stiff frilly dresses she might be wearing?"

"I understand the feeling," Epel said, recalling the times Vil had him wear the tightest outfits known to man. 

"Exactly! This is why we must save her before it is too late."

Jack crossed his arms and looked at Grim expectedly. "And how are we going to do that?"

"We could send in someone to infiltrate the school…" All eyes landed on Epel, who furiously shook his head. 

"NO! Y'all are not gonna send me to that darn school!"

Ace grinned. "Why not? You already look the part."

Epel looked at the redhead with a glare similar to Vil's. "What did you just say?"

"I said. You. Look. Like. A. Girl."

Epel saw red. "Oh, that's it!" He lunged at Ace, only to be stopped by Jack. The boy kicked and screamed in Jack's grasp. 

"I think that is a horrible idea," Sebek said, and Ortho agreed. 

"I think we should blow up the school. I have a feature Big Brother added that can-"

"NO!" Everyone screamed, including Epel, who stopped flailing and lay still in Jack's arms. 

Deuce slammed his hands against the table, a look of determination in his eyes. Grim smirked; it looked like Deuce had a big brain today. 

"This is getting us nowhere. Look, I have an idea that might work.

---

The plan was simple: break in at night, grab Yuu, and run. 

Why was there chaos as the first years ran back to the Magic Mirror?

Let's rewind.

After traveling long and far (read: they used the Mirror to get there), the group landed in front of a tall, sparkly, pink, and gold castle. The castle had one tall tower overlooking many smaller ones and a big wall surrounding it. There was also a drawbridge leading to the entrance. 

"This looks like something Vil would like," Epel said aloud, and everyone nodded.

"I wonder how Yuu is surviving here? There is too much pink!" Ace exclaimed. 

Grim was already imagining it. His precious human going through how to be a princess, what fork to use first, or balancing a book on her head. Oh, the poor thing!

"We need to save Yuu before she starts balancing books on her head!" Grim yelled, shaking the nearest person's (aka Deuce) head. 

"I've scanned for Yuu's whereabouts, and it looks like she is right there," Ortho said, pointing at the tall tower.

Ace grinned. "Great! Now let's get her!" He said and marched into the castle. The group thought their plan was a piece of cake to disable the cameras, sneak into the school, locate Yuu's dorm, and take Yuu back. The group was walking down a hallway when Epel accidentally tripped and landed on Sebek. The school security was alerted of their presence after Epel and Sebek started arguing about who caused it. Grim facepalmed as Epel cursed loudly in his Harveston accent, and Sebek yelled at the Pomefiore boy. 

Which led to their current situation. 

Ace and Deuce rode on Jack in his wolf form through the castle. Ace told him where to go while Deuce carried a sleeping Yuu in his arms. 

Ortho teamed up with Sebek and used their magic to hold off their pursuers.

And Epel?

He was busy holding Grim out like a weapon and used the cat monster's fire to ward off the many girls asking what his skincare routine looked like. Epel cursed Vil out for making his skin flawless. At least he and Sebek put their earlier argument aside. 

"We need to get out of here!" Deuce yelled.

"We are trying to!" Ace replied. 

"Get away from me, you girls! Back away!" Epel yelled as he finally caught up to Jack and jumped on him with Grim. The boy immediately regretted not bringing some of Vil's products to his dorm to throw at them. They would react like a child with candy. 

"We still have time to blast them out of oblivion," Ortho suggested. 

"NO ORTHO!" The boys yelled, causing Yuu to shift in her sleep. Seriously, how was she sleeping through all of that?

Ortho sighed in defeat. "You guys are no fun."

The group swerved through different teachers and almost returned to where the Mirror stood. They were a reasonable distance away until Grim held out his paw. 

"Look! They're raising the bridge!" Both ends of the drawbridge were slowly coming up.

Ace looked at the mob and the bridge. There were only a few seconds to decide until they were stuck in the school. "We might have to jump."

Deuce looked at him like he was a madman. "Jump?! Are you crazy?"

"Trust me." Ace turned to Ortho and Sebek. "On my signal, I want you two to create a diversion." The two nodded and continued holding the mob off. "You know what to do, Jack."

"Of course," Jack said and sped up. The bridge was getting higher the closer the group got. 

"Hold on tight, you guys!" Ace called back to Deuce and Epel. "NOW!" He yelled to others. 

"Finally!" Ortho exclaimed. He and Sebek combined their magic to create a beam using Ortho's and Sebek's lighting. As their magic created an explosion to stop their pursuers, Jack used his momentum to climb up the raised bridge to jump. 

The group landed on the other side as Ortho flew in with Sebek. 

"We did it!" Ace whooped and high five the first years. 

"That's great, but I think we should run," Deuce said, pointing at the mob, who was currently trying to lower the bridge. 

"Agreed. Let's make a run for it."

And at the end of the day, the first year group saved Yuu and returned to the school. Yuu woke up and did not question how she came back, and the other first years made Crowley promise that she would stay in NRC. 

Everyone found peace for the rest of the school year. 

Except….

Riddle drank his tea as Cater and Trey were sitting around nearby. The redhead was enjoying the peace when Cater suddenly gasped. 

"No way!"

Riddle raised an eyebrow and looked at Trey for an answer, to which the vice-housewarden only shrugged. Riddle sighed and set his cup down. "What are you looking at, Cater?"

"Take a look at this!" Cater held his phone to Riddle's face to show a post on Magicam. The post was talking about a commotion at Royal Princess Institute. "You need to see who's in the picture."

Riddle felt a familiar feeling go through his body as he read the post. He continued scrolling until he saw NRC mentioned. "What is going on here?" The redhead took Cater's phone and continued reading. He ignored most of the unimportant information until he saw the photo. A big white wolf was in the center with three familiar boys and a cat monster riding its back. In the background was another familiar duo; one was flying, while the other was next to some lighting. 

Riddle felt a vein pop out in his forehead. "ACE! DEUCE! IT'S OFF WITH YOUR HEADS!"

Meanwhile, as the other housewardens discovered the news and the first years were getting reprimanded, Yuu slept peacefully on her bed with Grim.

"Yuu, we need more tuna," Grim said while shifting in his sleep, unaware of the chaos outside Ramshackle. 

At least the window was fixed. 

Disclaimer: I do not own Twisted Wonderland and its characters. Those belong to Aniplex, Walt Disney Japan, and Yana Toboso.

©: This story belongs to bluesylveon2 2020-23. DO NOT modify, republish, or plagiarize my work.

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Kissed by Moonlight (Alucard x Witch! Reader) 3

A/N: Thanks for the wait! The last two weeks have been a rollercoaster for me, and this is the only place I can go to escape. This POV will mainly be from Alucard's perspective.

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Chapter 3

He's glad you don't see his face when he leaves - rushing out with any excuse under the sun.

In his mind, it's a mess, his senses frantic, elevated to a pulsing rush that he can't tell if the rush of a heartbeat is his or hers.

His skin feels alight in almost agony, every step he takes gives him more reason to be rid of the witch he’s allowed into his father’s castle—no, his castle now. He can be quicker than her to get rid of her before she finds any weapon to use against him.

He could make it fleeting the pain- he was not cruel like his father - he was always quick with giving death to those, it was maybe the human part of him who saw it the same way as giving an animal mercy.

She will find some way to boil my blood, he told himself, crush my bones to make powder. He could not stop the frantic part of his mind screaming not to be so kind to her, not to provide her the things any host should.

He couldn't trust humans again - he told that to himself over and over again - not those whom he allowed to understand the knowledge of his castle, even those who had killed his mother had become a bitter memory. Alucard was no fool, it was the same pain his father felt the day his mother left them, but even his pain, grief and rage burnt him into the man Dracula was always meant to be. Alucard was not as certain if he could possess such vengeance on humanity so soon, but he had tried being sympathetic and it had gotten him scored and beaten. It burnt him all the same, and the betrayals would keep coming to him, over and over again.

Maybe it was his human side, the side of his mother, that was telling him to be a good host, to tend to her injuries and give her refuge. She would've done the same if she was here. Though he was not just part human, and if his father had still been living or had she stumbled into any other vampire's home, it would’ve been in the blink of an eye before his father had her innards spilt and hung as decoration, her throat slashed before her fist could make contact with the doors.

It had worked with his mother though, would it be a coincidence if it could happen again?

Human or not, Alucard knew she had been a witch the second she entered his father’s castle. The stench of witches was ancient and as old as the earth itself. It was one of old power, dormant yet ready to strike. It was stronger on her compared to other creatures he had come across.

Alucard was knowledgeable about witches' hatred for most creatures: humans, creatures of the night, and vampires.

They were familiar with their kind, keeping to themselves, sometimes nomadic and travelling until they could find a place they called their own.

But this girl was far from her coven, muddied and riddled in cuts, she looked half from dead by the time she arrived at the doors of the castle. Alucard did not doubt that if she had not been any sooner, night creatures would've found quick work of her body, he would've been little to no help at all at this point.

Running a hand through his golden locks, Alucard sighed heavily, defeatedly, staring off to the side at the portrait, half-covered and drawn from the sight of his mother. Her lovely, kind smile brought him to feel the guilt first, then the resolution. "You will call me harsh," he said aloud, in acceptance of the unfortunate situation, "but giving her one month of refuge was enough-- even Father would have called me brash for such a thing. No doubt agreeing her body would be spiked alongside the others." 

He does not dare look at her in the painted gaze, knowing that despite it being a painting, her knowing gaze is enough to make him feel further shame. He does not regret his choice of words or his apathy. It's rough work to trust again, and he thinks he will never open his heart to a stranger again. He will keep her at arm's length before her final day comes, and then he'll send her on her merry way, never to be seen here again.

He could imagine his friends, even hearing their precise words in the back of his mind, nagging him. "You should be kinder, Alucard." Sypha is first to console with gentle words, but hers are just like his mother's. "You do not know how far she has come."

He thinks and he agrees before he thinks to his other friend's opinion. What do you think, Trevor? He regrets asking in his head, to the exact reasoning, he knows how the Belmont would answer, "I'm not sober enough to be having this fucking conversation."

The Dhampir sighs dejectedly, finding reason to begin with slowly finding parts of the castle to keep to, in hopes of avoiding her.

-

The awkward exchange was enough to make you feel even more threatened than before. Just as you thought you had been able to see the smallest of cracks in Alucard's personality, he shut you out. You didn't feel angered by that though, you knew killing your father was enough to make anyone feel a sense of sorrow to hang for the rest of one's days. 

You decided to clear up the plates and then find where Alucard spoke of the guest bedroom, where, to your delight was a better place to stay than anywhere you had stayed for all your days of living. The room was far too spacious to be one that belonged to perhaps a member of staff, with silken sheets and dropped curtains, the bed looked lavish enough that you feared you would never be able to rise from again if you dared lay on it.

Thanking yourself for being clean before you threw yourself onto the bed, your body screamed in joy when the softness of the sheets hit you, and you were overcome with a smell of light lavender, soothing and sweet. You could almost imagine hitting the pillows right away and having the best sleep of your entire life, but you knew that that had to wait. Exploring awaited.

It was perhaps a blessing that you didn’t run into Alucard as you wandered the long halls, taking in the aged beauty of the castle. You took in the paintings, the décor, the statues that made you know that life once hung in the halls. It hung like doom how the drab ruin and cracks in the walls told you the castle would never be the same. You told yourself that if you were allowed, you could help tidy some of the rubble.

Your gaze caught a painting you hadn’t seen before: caught in secrecy with a red curtain, covering the majority of the oil painting. Taking glances behind you and in front, you drew in closer, pulling the curtain back to reveal the beauty of the canvas.

The two figures you didn’t recognise, but they looked like opposites. Light hair and dark hair. The sun and the Moon. Human and Vampire. You knew the vampire was Dracula: from his dark locks and wine-coloured eyes, he was drawn closely to his wife, whom you now knew was Alucard’s mother.

The woman was comely and time had not taken away her beauty. Her lips were curled in a sweet, soft smile, holding in her arms a buddle of blond curls similar to hers.

You stared as you looked at the babe, his innocent beaming smile had small fangs poking out, his golden eyes were joining his duel backgrounds, and though you feared the Dhampir, you could not help but find the baby version of him to be adorable.

What made you what you are now? You thought.

Continuing from the corridor, you entered the closest room with its door slightly ajar. It was dark when you entered, the tall curtains drawn. You didn’t wish to disturb the room as it already was by pulling back the curtains, you opted for a better solution.

Looking back through the door you came through, you cupped your hands in front of you, speaking a gentle tone, “Ardeo.”

Your flame came with better ease, yet it acted as the needed torch and light to help you see better. You can now take in the room better: amazed by the very sight in front of you.

You knew Dracula was a man of knowledge, but the room you stepped into was one of grandeur no living man would ever comprehend. Despite the mess of some bookshelves, its books scattered everywhere, the room was very much one that left you in awe.

Observing closer, your curiosity got the better of you (your mother always told you that), and walking over to the books you could see. Using one hand, you scanned the spines, taking in the words. Some were foreign to you, others in the language you knew, but were that not even the church could understand.

This… was far more than just common knowledge, and you were amazed by how much any subject could be used. You grew interested in Dracula, which had books on different species, one you had in particular.

Humans, vampires, dhampirs, speaker magic. Witches.

In the face of being so absorbed in the books in front of you, you failed to hear the sound of a door creaking open, the fluttering of a cape, the sound of footsteps approaching with such haste, that you didn’t have time to look-

“What do you think you’re doing in here?” The voice barked, a hand pulled you away from them, and from the small flames in your hand, the face in front of you erupted from fury to fear.

Alucard had every right to be angry at you in this moment: you did after all cross into a room you were not supposed to go in. It was not that that made your heart rate spike, but the fact that his sword was once again by your throat, cold as a kiss of death against your flesh.

He did not speak, but even if you tried to, the blade made it difficult with how it dug into your skin. You cried out, both of you mirroring one another with expressions: horror written in your eyes.

How when you had seen his baby picture as adorable, you wanted to take it all back, now was replaced with the sight of his fangs flashing in front of you, hissing like a feral cat in distress.

You felt his hand leave your shoulder, and the strength alone was brutal in how tight his grip was. He was not as close to you now, only did you see those golden eyes staring directly into the flames you held as if it was a normal phenomenon.

“I’m sorry,” you rasped, shaking the fire away as the room was engulfed in darkness once again. Only, you were thankful that you could see the outline of his figure still there, watching you in dread and anticipation for what you would do next. “The door… was open—I’m sorry, I overstepped.”

Alucard did not speak, for it seemed he was struck with a fear you had felt many times before. Only did you direct his attention to the book in your other hand, did he seem not to be so rigid.

Witches: The Natural Guide to Magic, Witchcraft and the Occult

His next act startles you when you feel the blade of his sword loosen just enough to allow you to breathe, and he stares between the book and yourself. “Why would a witch need a book like that?”

You stared at him as if you had been slapped across the face. It seemed only a coincidence you couldn’t cast spells, and him being part vampire would’ve noticed too if you had intent on attacking him.

He speaks again, eyes squinted on you. “You could’ve killed me at this point, a hundred times over.”

“I could’ve, but I didn’t… even with the generosity, you offered me refuge,” you calmed yourself enough to speak the truth. “No, I’ve simply lost my skills.”

Alucard stares at you sceptically, “You’re a witch who can’t do spells?” He motions to your hands, “What were those flames then? Some Parlor trick? An illusion?” Regardless of how for a moment ago, threatened you, his voice is sardonic and light.

You could only laugh bitterly, “You’ll think I’m mad.” But the look he gave you told you he already thought so. He was still hesitant of you, you could tell, from the way he stood, and that he was not afraid to use that longsword, always by his side. Whatever he had faced, he still had the mental scars he could not heal.

If I want to get into his good graces, I need to prove I’m not the crones he’s heard of.

You collected yourself, to tell somewhat of the truth. “The coven I was brought into, they were powerful sisters. They welcomed my mama when she was at her worst, and when she had me, they spoke of my destiny, my worth. I was young when they were all slaughtered—slaughtered by”

“Vampires,” Alucard concluded, and his face did not read with the content of knowing that you may have disdain for him.

“I lost my abilities, my skill to heal, to bring back something from death, that was all gone that day, the day I found my mama’s body, drained of all blood.”

“I do not expect you to like me,” Alucard began, and you noticed the way his sword retracted from your neck, floating by his side. “I have certain books that could help you, to help you when you leave. It is one thing I can offer, the books.”

You remembered his deal, to be here for a month before you were sent on your way: one month to gain as much knowledge as you could, as many things you could remember to do or be taught. It was a chance you could only have once, and you were not wishing to reject it when it was being presented to you on a silver platter.

“You would help me?” You questioned.

“My mother would’ve helped you gain your strength, your confidence once again. She was a healer after all, and helping was her job.” There was that softness you noticed he had when he spoke about his mother, and it ripped your heart in two to think of your own.

“You’re not so cruel as I thought The Alucard would be.” You quipped, gathering the books that had dropped to the ground as you began to help tidy. Unbeknownst to you, the smallest of smiles graced the dhampir’s lips, his eyes glowing with a warming amiability.

[pochapal]

Umineko Liveblog: Thoughts/Theories [Episode 1 Chapter 14 Edition]

Umineko Chapter 14’s thesis statement was “let’s take these patterns and conventions we’re establishing and blow them all up with gleeful abandon”. Less than an hour from the Second Twilight, we’re forced to bear witness to twilights four and five, and not necessarily in that order. The Witch Narrative is off the rails. The most important character in Umineko to me died, and Beatrice may actually well and truly be real for once. Whatever’s going on here is one hell of a mess.

So let’s try and untangle whatever the hell went down here. The Chapter 14 writeup tour includes the following stops: the hot mess formerly known as the Witch Narrative, Kinzo finally being totally super dead for real, the world’s nastiest most evil twink death in human history (Kanon), identity and furniture and roulettes, Beatrice the Golden Witch’s understated grand entrance into the story, the 19th person conundrum (part 7123748296), and some downright funky stuff happening beneath the story’s surface.

Let’s get this going.

To start, we need to talk about the Witch Narrative. So far, the Witch Narrative has been the term I’ve given to a very clearly established phenomenon and set of actions. When there are characters who have some kind of vested interest in encouraging you to view Rokkenjima as a supernatural incident rather than a crime, then that’s the Witch Narrative. The person painting the magic circles is perpetuating the Witch Narrative. Characters such as Eva and Hideyoshi talking about how frightful and demonic things are is also the Witch Narrative. If you’re thinking “maybe this is Beatrice after all” or if things are aligning a little too well with the worst interpretation of the epitaph riddle, then that is without a shadow of a doubt the Witch Narrative.

So what happened? Kanon being gouged in the chest and also killed mere minutes after the discovery of the torn-apart pair who are close is not right. Skipping to twilight five (for the trolls) straight after number two is not good Witch Narrative etiquette. The sequence of murders and horrors is crucial to authenticating this slaughter as folded within the ritual to revive the Golden Witch and/or reach the Golden Land. Everything so far has dictated that in order for the witch to revive and none to be left alive certain steps must be carried out in a certain order. If this performance is thrown out of sequence for its audience, the song goes funky. Suddenly you’re aware you’re watching people playing pretend on a stage and this world you’re buying into is only ephemeral. If the sequence of deaths doesn’t matter, then this isn’t an occult ritual at all. It is in fact a disguised butchering.

Showing your hand like this this early makes things very difficult for those peddling this narrative. Deaths happening out of sequence takes this from a supernatural force happening beyond everyone’s control to something that could easily done by a human desperate to make everybody believe. If my theories about how this performance is happening ring true, then it becomes infinitely harder for Genji to make any further moves with the simultaneous blow of his most useful pawn kicking it early and the order of events getting all scrambled. How can the stomach, leg, and knee get gouged in a way that still works in service for this narrative now?

Given what I’m thinking, Genji is likely moving on his own now. Kumasawa and maybe Nanjo are complicit in the spreading of the story, but they are almost certainly unable to be as useful to any kind of scheme as Kanon was. They are older, less mobile, less physically able. Kumasawa can scream about magic circles all she likes, but does she have the strength to move and mutilate corpses? Very unlikely. The options to carry things out have been severely limited to an almost unsalvageable degree. Every crime so far has been a type of locked room that works via tricks that could only be carried out by two active parties. Being on your own can only get you so far.

Which leads you to an immediate conclusion: Kanon dying in the basement boiler room was not part of the plan. Or, not part of the Witch Narrative at least. His death marks a point where this scheme has totally gone off the rails, and Genji’s script has been rendered worthless. The presentation of the death is obfuscated, but the truth beneath it is that something went deeply wrong that shouldn’t have.

This is a bold claim I’m making, but I also think I have enough proof in the story to substantiate it. I think, going by everything, the next incident following the deaths of Eva and Hideyoshi was to involve the basement in one form or another. I also think that this was being prepared in parallel with the Second Twilight – Genji and Nanjo leave the kitchen at the same time as Kanon and Kumasawa, but the two men don’t reach the scene until after Kanon has already unlocked the room and Eva and Hideyoshi have been found dead with the stakes in their skulls. Enough time to, say, take a trip down to the basement and set some dominoes in motion.

As to what I think was part of the Witch Narrative, I think everything was on track right up until the moment Kanon set foot in the basement. The foul smell filling the hallway was almost certainly set in motion by Genji and/or Nanjo (perhaps by turning on the boiler while Eva and Hideyoshi were being found in order to time it to make the smell the strongest at the perfect time – this may also have precluded moving Kinzo’s body there depending on where he was before now). Kanon acting bizarrely freaked out was part of the plan. As was Kumasawa screaming about hearing a noise, and the two of them breaking off from the group to rush ahead to investigate. Everything falls apart when Kanon sets foot in the basement and Beatrice shows up and he dies.

So what was the intended plan in the basement involving Kinzo? I think, if I were to hazard a guess based off of pre-existing patterns, the boiler room in the basement was going to be used as another locked room, this time featuring Kinzo. I think this would have been a play in two acts. The first act would have Kanon and Kumasawa chase the noise to the basement and “find” the head’s ring on the ground. The family would search the boiler room and find the back door exit locked up, and no sign of Kinzo anywhere in sight (there would be efforts taken to keep anyone from investigating the boiler). The ring alone on the ground in an empty room would stand in for the Third Twilight – Kinzo is without his headship and authority, so it must therefore fall to everyone to praise Beatrice’s noble name in his stead. Dissatisfied and creeped out, everyone leaves the basement – the back door is locked from the inside, and the front door locked with a key placed in Natsuhi’s possession.

From here, this would likely have led to another discussion chapter about how the ring got there. The setup of the scene would be enough that Battler would question whether or not a nineteenth person placed the ring there, or if Kinzo himself actually dropped it there as part of some other ploy. The servants would be questioned and swear up and down there was nobody else in the basement when they entered. The sound would be discussed, as would the impossibility that anybody known to be alive could make that noise. The conversation would then turn to Kinzo as the likely suspect and Natsuhi, who’s been complicit in covering up Kinzo’s death for some time already, would start sweating as this truth grows closer to being uncovered. It’s up in the air as to whether or not the servants would help or hinder Natsuhi here, but I think it’s likely Battler would have started to think on Eva’s words from earlier. More fuel on the Natsuhi culprit fire that she can’t fight because she can’t admit to knowing what he knows. Maria would then cackle and say to everyone that this is obviously Beatrice manipulating things with her magic, and boom, scene.

Something would then happen in the next chapter to turn attention back to the boiler room. Perhaps the smell grows stronger. Perhaps the conversation about Kinzo grows to a fever pitch. Perhaps a servant fakes hearing another noise from the basement. Whatever the case, we would return to the boiler room a second time. There would be a point made of showing Natsuhi pulling out the only key to the boiler room and everyone stepping inside to find Kinzo’s body on the floor, burned up with an icepick stake in his forehead. The inner lock for the back door would still be set. Genji and Nanjo would confirm the body’s identity via the polydactyly. Somehow, Kinzo’s dead body appeared in the middle of a perfectly locked room.

Likely there would then be discussions of who could have killed Kinzo, given that at the time of his “death” everyone was yet again together (minus Kanon/Genji slipping in and out of the parlor to get food and drinks). The assumption would be that Kinzo was alive in there all along, and then killed himself for some reason – contradicted by the fact that if he launched himself into the boiler, how did he drag himself back out into the middle of the floor? The mystery would stump Battler, because the only major solution would be to assume a nineteenth person was also already hiding in the locked basement, and killed Kinzo and displayed the corpse, but Battler would chessboard himself out of leaning on that option. Out of options and stumped, we would stay at another stalemate where there’s no proof that Beatrice exists, but no way that the surviving humans could have set up this scene (there are of course ways, such as a back door that wasn’t really locked or a second key/master key with which to return to the boiler room and set things up, but nobody will think of them). The horrors would escalate. The Witch Narrative would persist. And so on. And so on.

This scenario, believable as it is, never came to happen. Instead we got what we got, and we need to figure out why. Why did Kinzo show up like this? Why did Kanon die, despite all known logic and reasoning stating that the contrary would be ideal? Why are things speeding up at such an exponential rate? I think we can get a good shape of what was supposed to be with Kinzo, but understanding what happened with Kanon is almost certainly the linchpin driving this deviation from the Witch Narrative.

So, let’s review: Kanon and Kumasawa head to the basement after “hearing a noise” that nobody could have possibly made. Kanon speeds off ahead of Kumasawa and encounters… something in the boiler room. He has a conversation with this something and comes to a revelation about his status as a human being, and then he gets gouged in the chest and killed. The presentation is straightforward: Kanon sees butterflies in the boiler room, he identifies it as Beatrice, he stands in defiance of her, and dies as a result. Except, of course, that it really isn’t that simple at all.

The tonal shift is introduced through the phrase “a fantastical scene”. Fantasy has been a phrase thrown about a few times in the story so far by characters in reference to very specific things, people, and concepts. The siblings call Kinzo’s story of the gold ingots “fantasy”. Beatrice is “fantasy”. The occult symbols around Rokkenjima are “fantasy”. Maria’s behaviour is “fantasy”. Straight away, we can draw parallels between the use of the word “fantasy” and the term “existence”. To be fantasy is to “exist”, is to be something that is propped up by narrative and belief irrespective of the material reality.

In that case, what does it mean for a scene to be fantasy? In a story about storytelling and about fantasy and about “existence”, there is surely nothing accidental about the prose describing a series of events as “a fantastical scene”. Two things are immediately happening here. The first is that we are stepping into the framework of fantasy, of belief without proof and immateriality fuelled more by ghosts than flesh. The second is that we are entering into a self-conscious scene capable of describing itself as such. This is a narrative unit that knows what it is, a story told by a teller with an agenda.

I think to explain what’s happening here, it’s worth circling all the way back to some of the metafictional stuff I was entertaining back before people started dying. More specifically, the notion that there are narrators with agendas involved in the construction and presentation of Umineko. This is most passively seen in the less-reliable third person scenes where we can be shown metaphor and falsehood to convey a deeper emotional truth – Kinzo has most likely been dead all along, and yet he has also made numerous appearances in his study over the weekend of the family conference. However, the “fantasy” of these moments is never explicitly highlighted. These scenes are a type of “fantasy”, but not a fantasy that you need to be told is the case. You can understand Natsuhi and Genji’s hearts and feelings towards Kinzo regardless of whether or not you think the family head is alive or dead.

Here, though, to be directly told you are witnessing a fantasy is tipping the scales. The arbitrator of this fantasy, of whatever might be going on in the narrative beyond the framing confines of Rokkenjima, is much more actively and directly introducing the concept to Kanon’s final moments. On their own, they would be in the same vein as whatever was happening with the Kinzo scenes if a little more heavy handed and obtuse, but we are not left to puzzle out whether or not we can trust what we are seeing. We are told outright this is fantasy. We are forced to acknowledge from the outset that there is something untrustworthy and unreliable about this chunk of the story.

Why?

I think that this is glaring evidence of some kind of discrepancy between the narrator(s) and the actors in Umineko. Something happens in the boiler room which the narrative feels the need to paint over with a depiction of swarms of butterflies and cackling murderwitches – the need to plaster fantasy over this scene matters more than upholding the story’s rule that Beatrice remains a possibility in shadow. Just as I argued that the Witch Narrative went off the rails here, I think the same thing applies to the Umineko Narrative as well. If there’s a metafictional “game” going on here, then Kanon in the boiler room knocked that off kilter, too. The zero on the roulette threatened to ruin not only “Beatrice”, but also Beatrice and also the fabric of the text itself. Whatever Kanon did or almost did rattled a lot of people all at once.

But what is this thing, actually? What we’re shown is Kanon having enough of being bound to the whims of Kinzo and Beatrice and their bastardised excuse for “magic”, and him deciding as a result to abandon his position and furniture and ruin the demon’s roulette in motion. In real terms, this is hard to parse as meaningful outside of its fantasy context. Kinzo, as we know, is not the one setting the roulette in motion in the way we’re led to believe. Beatrice is a dubiously-extant entity represented by so many different people wearing her name instead of a concrete person. Magic is anything belonging to the realm of metaphor or anything that happens on a non-material level. And the Demon’s Roulette is the catch-all term for the epitaph ritual, the Witch Narrative, and maybe also the layers of abuse going on on Rokkenjima.

The only term that has a direct material representation is “furniture”. Luckily, this is probably the most important part of Kanon’s moment of defiance, so it is extremely fortuitous that we can more easily define furniture in a way that makes sense in order to more deeply understand what’s actually going on here.

To recap, “furniture” is the label applied to servants on Rokkenjima within Kinzo’s inner circle. Three servants in the story use this label – Shannon, Kanon, and Genji. From Shannon’s backstory that we got in chapter 8 during the proposal, it is very likely that “furniture” is a term foisted upon the teenage orphan servants that come and go on Rokkenjima as a kind of degrading, abusive brand. We see this most keenly through Shannon, who submits to Battler’s sexual harassment because she is furniture and thus lacks the will to deny anything. These vulnerable abused kids are forced into a new name and a new role where they are little more than living objects for people more powerful than them to use and abuse as they see fit. To be furniture is to be totally under the thumb of Kinzo’s abuse, serving those needs even when it goes against all morality and all that you are.

Genji’s positioning with the label is less clear, given that he was, at some point at least, on more equal footing with Kinzo. It is likely that Genji adopted the “furniture” label for himself as a kind of expression of his feelings – he is nothing more than an extension of Kinzo’s will, and all he does is in service of his master. He does not have a life outside of servitude. However, the difference here is that Genji willingly stepped into the label versus Shannon and Kanon who had it forced upon them. To an outside perspective, this creates an unfair impression of equality between the three of them, when Genji absolutely has more material autonomy and personal rights than either Shannon or Kanon. Genji feels bad about Kinzo and about how all he can be to the man is his butler. Shannon and Kanon are cruelly abused and dehumanised every second of their lives. It is a false equivalency. The only commonality here is that to be “furniture” is to occupy an undesirable position within hierarchy.

Under this light, Kanon’s declaration that he is no longer furniture can immediately be read as Kanon deciding in that moment to cease existing as an object to be used by people with more power than him – power “exists”, and in a closed environment ruled by fantasy, power can be denied with more ease than would normally be available. Kanon decides he is no longer an extension of another’s will, but instead his own person. He decides this because Shannon is dead, and the least he can do is take revenge against the systems that killed her.

That said, such an explanation is deceptively simple. If denying your status as furniture comes when you cease to adhere to the whims of power, the boiler room scene carries with it the implication that this is the very first time Kanon has done anything of his own will. Kanon has been deeply involved with the Witch Narrative thus far, and if this scene is to be trusted then this is an admission that he has had zero autonomy in the prior events. Or, to expand this further, Kanon is not where he wishes to be and is only now realising this desire. He steps out of his role as a pawn in the augmented fiction around him, and Beatrice kills him for it.

You can view this as happening on multiple layers, each one perfectly able to feed into the “fantasy” hanging over everything. On the level of the Witch Narrative, this is Kanon partaking in an act of defiance and getting killed for it. On a more abstract level, this is Kanon threatening to ruin Umineko and being taken out of the story as a result. To be killed by Beatrice so explicitly comes with much deeper ramifications given the state of Beatrice's presence in the story thus far. If a ghost-myth-metaphor appears in the flesh to kill you and turn you into a prop for the next part of the story, what does that mean?

It was not enough for Kanon to just die. He had to be gouged and killed and transformed into the victim of the next twilight – you can easily make the argument that under the terms of the story being turned into a gouged/killed victim is yet another, more severe form, of being rendered furniture. With the Ushiromiya siblings, this concept can easily exist as a form of poetic irony – these powerful abusive individuals are all left as butchered pieces of furniture to be used and deployed however Beatrice sees fit. You are never as powerless as you are when you're a mangled corpse being manipulated by your own killer.

Except Kanon was already furniture – in his own words, even, this is a servitude that applies to Beatrice as much as it does Kinzo. The reversal of fortune works less well on Kanon; his death is an act of rebellion that is transformed into a reinforcement of his inescapable position. He tries to become human and fails at the first hurdle, and thus goes from being furniture to once again being furniture.

I think this situation is worth examining through the lens of the dichotomy of self framework to yield more information. To recap, almost everybody in Umineko struggles with the gap between who they want to be and who they're forced to be. This is a near-universal constant, seen with Natsuhi as much as it is with Shannon. Everyone desperately desires to be somebody else, and hardly anybody can reach this dream.

Kanon is a curious wrinkle in this pattern in several regards. Up until now, as a servant Kanon has been markedly less furniture-like than Shannon. At every turn he has been prickly and begrudging and making no secret of his own feelings to himself, unlike Shannon who leaned so far into the mask she ended up cutting herself off from herself. With Shannon, Sayo almost certainly feels more complicated and unpleasant emotions, but this is completely partitioned off from her servant self. With Kanon, there is an emotional authenticity to his character, but unlike Shannon, Kanon's “Sayo” is nowhere to be seen.

Kanon is not trying to become his desirable self. He is attempting to transform his undesirable self. Where Shannon/Sayo was looking for an exit from being furniture through George, Kanon's actions promise no such escape. He never discards his furniture name, only the label. Kanon does not multiply himself. Kanon reduces himself into a singular concentrated point within the story.

To Beatrice, an entity that thrives on multiplicity and iterative selfhood, an individual who not only defies her rule of power but also eschews his own identity complex in the face of self-actualisation would be something to be loathed. In Chapter 14, Kanon stands for everything Beatrice is not: painfully human, and painfully material.

By rejecting the status of furniture, by holding true to the only name he’s gone by in the story, Kanon is fraying the edges of the hard rules of the fiction governing Umineko. Everyone in this story is duplicitously in tension between their perceived and ideal selves. This tension allows for a rife breeding ground for secrets and uncertainty. This grey area turns everyone on Rokkenjima from human beings into murder mystery characters. This nebulous state of being is the genesis for “existence”. This is how Beatrice asserts dominion.

Kanon chooses a position that is neither, essentially queering the witch-human dichotomy. He is not Kanon the performer in Beatrice’s narrative of magic and murder, but nor is he Kanon the servant in Kinzo’s narrative of power and abuse. His moment of empowerment coming as it does throws all this off the rails, just as this sequence of events throws the epitaph ritual off the rails.

Kanon, in real terms, deals a potentially fatal blow to the Witch Narrative through his “zero on the roulette” gambit, and Beatrice’s only recourse is to clumsily plaster over this act of rebellion with fantasy before any Detective-oriented observer can bear witness to what could be this entire pantomime’s undoing.

However, what happens in the boiler room is not a simple act of metafictional housekeeping. There is a strong and prevalent sense that whatever Beatrice does, she does it spitefully. Shortly before Kanon’s death, there is a bizarrely=presented exchange between himself and the witch, curious for myriad reasons.

Two things which immediately stand about the moment in question are firstly that this serves as our introduction (allegedly) to Beatrice’s presence in the story, and that it tips us off to the fact that there may be an element of hypocrisy to the impartiality of the so-called indiscriminate murderwitch. Kanon’s reward for his defiance is subjecting the Golden Witch Beatrice to the mortifying ordeal of being known, and so we owe it to him to see what we see when the curtain is tugged at even just a little bit.

The immediate thing which jumps out is that Beatrice addresses Kanon not with annoyance, but with loathing. There is something personal and vindictive about the retribution she inflicts upon him. It’s not enough to simply kill him with the stake and set up another Twilight; there is a mockery and a derision. Before Kanon is killed by Beatrice, Kanon is made aware of how much Beatrice hates him. The why in the moment is mostly clear - Kanon threatens to undermine Beatrice’s narrative, which applies simultaneously to all Beatrices and all narratives in play - but we are told in as many words that this rage is specific and personal.

Earlier, we have a comment from Kanon that he refuses to be led astray “again” by either Beatrice or Kinzo which is. Interesting and revealing wording to say the least. Especially when we try to consider who the person behind Beatrice may be in this scene.

If, somehow, we had confirmation that the Beatrice in the boiler room was a metaphor for Genji, then this exchange would make more sense. Kanon the begrudging accomplice making one act of rebellion too many, and Genji’s facade of professionalism slipping to show a hint of what may be true emotions below the surface. Except Genji is not in the basement with Kanon very much on purpose, so whatever materially happened to Kanon did not directly involve Genji, the most likely living target for these emotions.

It’s not even worth pretending Kinzo is alive enough in this moment to not only hear Kanon’s words, but also respond. Even in my initial hypothetical “narrative-compliant Third and Fourth Twilights” outline, for any of it to work Kinzo has to be dead at this moment. And more than that, Kanon specifically makes sure to distinguish between Kinzo and Beatrice in his speech. He has not only been led astray by Kinzo, but also by Beatrice. In this interaction, to Kanon, Kinzo and Beatrice are separate entities.

So the question becomes, as it has been from literally the start: who is Beatrice?

I don’t think it’s possible to answer this question in the direct sense of “what is the identity of the person behind the witch that killed Kanon”, but I think we can explore “what this figure we are calling Beatrice like as an individual?”. The Detective’s truth on the matter remains obscured to the point where any guesses at this point would be meaningless, but the Romantic’s truth remains a valid option. We don’t need to unmask Beatrice to get a sense of her character.

What we know about Beatrice in this chapter is thus: she appears via a cloud of butterflies, she is associated with the fantastical, and she makes the active choice to kill Kanon and wrap his death into another Twilight. From this, we can extrapolate a few things: this Beatrice operates at least in part in adherence to her own mythos, even if she doesn’t necessarily strictly uphold the Witch Narratives in the terms that the culprits have set out. She is not in total alignment with whatever scheme is going on with the Witch Narrative, and she has on some level a personal, spiteful disdain towards Kanon.

When Beatrice kills Kanon, she puts him down as the “furniture” he is. When he attempts his self-actualisation, there is a moment where the narrative insight we get into Beatrice condemns him as foolish and futile and vulgar. It is not simply annoying that Kanon is stepping out of his role. It actively repulses Beatrice on some level. From what we get of Beatrice, there is the impression that Kanon’s decision deeply violates some kind of taboo to the point where Beatrice’s mode of operation leaves the fantastical and dips into the visceral, even if only momentarily.

So what we can claim to learn is that there is something irreparably offensive to Beatrice about people stepping out of the confines of their pre-ordained roles, which is something incredibly interesting to consider. She holds a deep loathing towards Kanon for daring to defy his fate, more so than someone like Genji would if this were a mere case of Kanon messing up the Witch Narrative. Beatrice takes Kanon’s transgression personally, not in the sense that this is a specific attack on her, but in the sense that it upsets her sensibilities more than anything else could.

So why would that be? What about some small little servant choosing to throw off his symbol of abuse and oppression is so offensive to a mighty witch such as Beatrice? She’s centuries old, an accomplished alchemist, and brimming with supernatural power. According to all we know of the Beatrice mythos, she should be able to toss Kanon aside with a snap of her fingers. But there is a mockery towards him, a taunting and a toying coming from a personal degree of loathing.

I wouldn’t go as far as to say that Kanon got under Beatrice’s skin, but it’s something close. She takes something out on him for his transgression towards her - in his speech, Kanon marks out both Kinzo and Beatrice as individuals he is defying, and that has to be important. It’s clear to see why a furniture servant abandoning the degradation would upset fascist abuser supreme Kinzo, but what about this would be so upsetting to Beatrice? Why would she care at all?

I have some idea, but to elaborate on that I first need to talk about one other curious feature of Beatrice’s presentation in this chapter. She has as tangible a presence as you can get in this chapter, except for one detail: in her “conversation” with Kanon, Beatrice never actually speaks. Her “dialogue” is relayed through the narration and through Kanon’s own responses, but Beatrice herself remains voiceless.

The immediate effect of this is that Beatrice remains in obscurity even as she shuffles around the spotlight. We know in this chapter that she gets mad at Kanon and kills him, but we don’t get anything concrete about Beatrice. No face, no voice. In other words, Beatrice is not given an active presence in the story. She is relayed to us second-hand, even though she plays a crucial role in the events in the boiler room.

There is something to this beyond the benefits to the mystery narrative that keeping Beatrice obscured entails. Of course this presentation keeps us guessing about several elements of Beatrice’s existence - we can’t say either way what Beatrice’s physical form looks like or what it could mean. Revealing Beatrice definitively as either a human or a witch would run counter to Umineko’s narrative worse than anything Kanon could ever dream of.

However, that does not necessarily mean that the only way Beatrice could have appeared in this chapter was in this way. It’s not enough that she’s a hidden presence. She’s also a passive one. She performs no direct action. She never directly tells us anything. Beatrice is kept in check by the narrative as a spectral entity. The only “active” thing we see of Beatrice happens to be her own feelings towards Kanon’s desperate stance.

Beatrice is held in fantasy and only fantasy. The one exception to this is still little more than a gesture at Romantic examination. Beatrice has no tangible, material, Detective’s presence to her. Even in death, Kanon’s murder is not described as someone plunging the stake into him. The stake appears and he is impaled by it - passive voice for emphasis. The only “active” step taken in the death sequence is when Kanon pulls the stake out of his chest. Nothing is directly manipulated by Beatrice’s hands.

Technically, we can’t actually say Beatrice does anything in this chapter. This is something that in truth ties into the broader presentation of Beatrice as a figure in Umineko. Going by the stories told by the servants about Beatrice beyond the Witch Narrative, there is a common thread in all these tales: Beatrice shows up and then something happens. Even in Shannon’s story of the injured servant, her tale is not “Beatrice pushed the servant down the stairs”. It is “a servant disrespected Beatrice and then fell down the stairs”.

There is a very understated and very curious denial of agency seen with Beatrice, on reflection. All she’s really allowed to do is sit there as a cloud of butterflies and be an emblem for misfortune happening that is later accredited to her. I’ve referred to Beatrice as a murderwitch throughout this liveblog, but what’s interesting is that while this reputation is there, we aren’t ever shown more than the reputation itself.

The excuse so far has been that the literal witch Beatrice has been unable to do anything on account of needing to be resurrected in order to return to the material plane first. But even that narrative is something contradicted to the point where it can’t be trusted. Kinzo’s scenes make it clear this is all an attempt to summon Beatrice from a place nobody can normally reach, yet he is also convinced in some scenes that Beatrice is already there, watching him with amusement from the sidelines.

This could be explained away with the whole “Beatrice lacks a physical form and thus she isn’t really there” line of reasoning, except that in chapter 14 she appears to quite literally orchestrate Kanon’s death, and prior to that she allegedly had the means of injuring a servant who disrespected her. How can Beatrice cause harm to servants and yet also be so far removed from the physical world that a violent occult ritual is needed to ensure her presence?

Beatrice is not there, and yet Beatrice is there. In other words, Beatrice “exists”. It’s not just that Beatrice “exists” but that the act of being Beatrice is to inherently inhabit a position of “existence”. Beatrice is a passive entity, strictly defined by indirect non-involvement.

In other words, from a certain angle, Beatrice The Golden Witch is just as restrictive a role as “furniture”. To be Beatrice is to be unseen, voiceless, inactive. No matter how much you may feel or hate or rage you are not given the cathartic release of wrapping your hands around someone’s throat. For all her loathing of Kanon, the only tool at Beatrice’s disposal is to continue to perpetuate her own myth-narrative, merely folding Kanon into the pattern. And at this stage, the Witch Narrative is more akin to a process than a personal action. There is something very distanced and abstracted about killing for the Twilights; it is about continuing to engage with the horror-mystery and not about yourself and your own feelings.

Even through the metaphorical allegories of Beatrice this mode is seen. Genji is bound to the role of Beatrice, defined as his tragic and terrible devotion to Kinzo. Genji couldn’t have escaped this fate if he’d tried. Kanon is coerced into upholding the Witch Narrative through his position as furniture, thus conflating both states of being into one and the same thing. Even further back, whoever is behind the story of the alchemist that gave Kinzo the gold is reduced to a portrait of a white woman in the mansion’s hallway, stripped of everything but a confining ideal. To be Beatrice is to be contained by other people’s demands and expectations.

When it’s laid out like this, it is no surprise that Beatrice reacts to Kanon’s rebellion with outrage. This choice is the one thing she can never do because her whole existence as Beatrice is predicated on that not being an option. Beatrice, no matter the form she takes, is trapped in her role. To cease being trapped by the role of Beatrice is also to lose the power granted by being Beatrice. She is the demon’s roulette. Anyone who risks becoming something more than their assigned category is anathema to her entire nature.

Kanon rebels against Kinzo’s will where Beatrice never could. No wonder she kills him for it.

But, of course, now we need to think about how Beatrice actually managed to kill Kanon in the first place. And to do that we need to revisit the next most obvious from the start question: how many people are on Rokkenjima?

The 19th person issue is one that at times feels too blatant to give more than a cursory amount of attention to: there are nineteen people “existing” on Rokkenjima because Beatrice is an immaterially real shared identity construct. There only being eighteen physical bodies is irrelevant to this count - the number of “people” increases further if you start thinking about people’s multiplicitous selves as their own entities. Witch Maria and Human Maria, adultsona George and kidsona George, Shannon and Sayo, Natsuhi and Ushiromiya Natsuhi, et cetera. Beatrice being an additional facet of the peddlers of the Witch Narrative is merely this mechanism brought to an extreme point.

Except, cutting past all the fantasy and obfuscation, Kanon does still in fact get killed in the boiler room. At the time of this murder, either eight or nine people are already dead by this point. And of the eight other survivors, seven of them very conspicuously are not in a position to murder him at all.

So this dilemma boils down to a singular issue: either Kumasawa killed Kanon, or a nineteenth individual did. The story goes to great lengths to ensure that this is the setup we’re working with here. Where Eva and Hideyoshi were allegedly killed in a way only a witch could have done, Kanon could have only been logistically killed by a witch and nobody else.

There is of course a third angle here, and that’s that Kanon killed himself. It’s technically an option on the table, but one I am not sure has much, if any, basis. The entire scene hinges around Kanon choosing to act out in defiance in a space devoid of observers. There is nobody save for the reader for Kanon to convince of the authenticity of his words and motives. For this premise to work, it would almost certainly necessitate a level of metatextual awareness from Kanon that we have not seen at all.

Kanon acts and reacts to a threat in the room. Kanon makes it clear that his goal is to take this person down with him if he can’t save himself. Everything points to there being a second person in the room with Kanon capable of inflicting harm on him. A person that would, then, hypothetically, flee out of the back door and into the night before being found.

At this point in the story, even Battler is fairly on board with there being a 19th person moving around on the island. After all, nobody among the group of survivors could have been responsible for killing Kanon, save for maybe the incredibly frail Kumasawa. The options are pared down to Kumasawa, suicide, or a 19th person. This person’s identity is unknown, but the fact of their existence is, on the surface of things, pretty undeniable.

This, however, feels like a trap. The existence of a 19th person is part and parcel of the Witch Narrative. To readily agree that there is a 19th person on the island is to buy into the same immaterial theatre spawning the magic circles and the demonic stakes and letters speaking of alchemy. You either accept all of it, or you accept none of it. It’s already been established that the occult artifacts at the murder scene are little more than decoration placed by somebody doctoring the bodies. If this fact is true, then the existence of a nineteenth person must therefore be false.

But if Kanon was murdered by somebody, that somebody was not among the eight survivors. Thus the contradiction making this yet another “impossible” mystery. The only two points of data we have are totally irreconcilable.

Save for one read on the situation: Kanon was killed by somebody outside of the group of survivors, and this individual is also not a 19th person. There is exactly one way in which this can be true, and that’s to consider the possibility that the person that killed Kanon is among those presumed dead.

This is something that’s not impossible. The obvious objection is that for a person who we think is dead not being dead is that that would invalidate the epitaph murder ritual, but we’ve already established that the sequence of events only has value as far as convincing the survivors of something inescapably occult. If twilights can happen out of order, then there’s no reason why we need to assume that a victim has to actually be dead. It’s all about the affect.

If this were true, it would allow somebody outside of the group to move around and kill without disrupting the premise of the eighteen on Rokkenjima. This would mean that Kanon’s killer is one of the victims of either the first or second twilights.

From the outset, both pools of suspects are problematic. Eva and Hideyoshi, even if they weren’t dead somehow, were both physically in the guest room at the time of the murder - there’d be no way for either of them to sneak by the others down into the basement to kill Kanon. The six on the first twilight, beyond being mangled past recognition, are stuck within a locked room to which only Natsuhi has the key.

I still think that if we’re to entertain this possibility, the culprit must be one of those assumed to be inside the garden storehouse. Which means we’ll need to interrogate the function and construction of this reverse locked room.

It’s an established fact that the shed is locked from the outside. It is also an established fact that there is only one key, and this key is held by Natsuhi who has not had a single meaningful opportunity to sneak off and unlock the storehouse.

The only way to interrogate this setup without contradicting the physical facts of the story is through a Detective/Romantic examination of chapter 10’s narration. What we know are the above datapoints. Everything else is extrapolation and assumption, especially if we abide by the non-Battler POV = Romantic obfuscation logic.

So, extending that line of thinking leads us to distrust anything that can’t be immediately verified by the scenes in the parlor. The most crucial fact, and the one that the argument I am making hinges on, is that everybody that was killed still being in the storehouse when it was locked up cannot be trusted with absolute certainty. The only people on the scene during the locking of the storehouse were those involved in the Witch Narrative to some degree, and Natsuhi, who by her own admission could not stomach to look upon the scene for longer than necessary.

Who is to say that, during this period of uncertainty and unreliable perspective, somebody playing dead inside the storehouse slipped out while Natsuhi was looking away in disgust? This would facilitate the existence of an individual who is not part of the group of survivors, yet who also does not contravene the 18 person premise.

There are holes in this, of course. It’s a huge leap to assume that Natsuhi somehow missed a whole person getting up and leaving the storehouse, and there are numerous questions as to how the narrative-peddling servants would permit someone to roam free who would then later betray the occult illusion and murder Kanon. But the basis of this theory is not impossible, so perhaps there are ways to work around this.

We already know Natsuhi’s perspective is highly unreliable, as proven earlier in that exact chapter. She so desperately wants to hide the fact of Kinzo’s death that she starts to buy her own lies, having imagined hallucination conversations in a most likely empty study to verify her own beliefs. If brain ghost grandpa can “exist” through Natsuhi, then it is much less of a stretch for her to willingly or unknowingly let something like this slip. Maybe she was in her own head. Maybe she tuned it out in an act of extreme denial. Either way, it is theoretically possible for Natsuhi to overlook something that big.

As to the servants permitting this, the obvious answer is that this person was allowed to let go as a contingency by Genji in the event of a Witch Narrative stalemate. An additional body roaming around that the audience of this theatre has already written off would be a huge boon in authenticating his own crimes. This person killing Kanon, then, would not necessarily be the end of the world for Genji - as per maybe-Kinzo’s words regurgitated through a hallucinatory phantom, total annihilation is as valid an option on the table as any other outcome. A roulette can land on many outcomes, and an “impossible” killer taking Kanon out transforms this individual into Beatrice in the consciousness of the survivors, furthering the plan either way.

Given that, the question then becomes: which of the dead six could theoretically do this? Who here would pretend to be dead, skulk around the island for a time, and then end up killing Kanon?

I think there are a few suspects we can eliminate off the bat. Krauss and Shannon, the half-face corpses, most likely don’t fit here. As individuals, it does not track with who they are to imagine them acting this way - going by my theory, this would place Krauss as someone who played possum to survive his own assassination attempt backfiring on him. There is absolutely no way that someone like that wouldn’t have immediately come out of the shadows to expose Eva and Hideyoshi; Krauss didn’t even have it in him to keep his embezzlement bragging on the downlow. As for Shannon, the victim in this situation is Kanon. There is absolutely not a single scenario in which Shannon would kill Kanon for any possible reason - he is probably the only person in her life towards whom she feels unconditional love and trust. We’ll never know for a fact how Shannon/Sayo felt towards Kanon’s desperation to save her, but even in the most emotionally complicated interpretation, it still makes no sense for Kanon to be killed by her in retaliation, and it makes no sense for Kanon to have done anything he did in the intervening twilights had Shannon actually survived somehow.

More than that, I have always thought that Krauss and Shannon’s faces being half-destroyed is as close to cast iron proof as you can get that they are definitely, totally, for real dead, for the simple fact that a mystery story’s base assumption is that anybody with injuries that buck the trend are suspicious. Instead, I think this is more likely a case of a tree hiding itself in a forest.

Which turns our attention to the three failsiblings and Gohda. It’s not Gohda, because narratively it makes sense for Gohda to be as much of a victim of circumstance as Shannon in the end despite his bullying of her - middle manager and minimum wage worker alike are insects before the CEO. His abuse of a shred of worthless power cannot save him, therefore he must be dead. Rosa, likewise, would not work narrative-wise to survive. She had a complete character trajectory highlighting the revolving wheel of abuse within the introductory chapters. Her character was never destined for anything more than being doomed by the systems she never managed to do more than perpetuate - surviving the First Twilight would give her licence to try to escape the cycle, which would undermine the whole point of everything that came before.

So we’re left now with two candidates: Rudolf and Kyrie. Both of whom are understated characters with ulterior motives that were never fully elaborated on before they met their ends. Kyrie’s conversations with Battler hinted at the existence of a strategist’s mind with a scheme of her own separate from the gambit Eva strongarmed everyone into going along with. Rudolf, meanwhile, has the lone dangling thread of his “tonight I think I will be killed” comment, the sole thing that, as of this point in the story, we have no clue as to what he could have really meant by that. All we can glean is that the “murder” comment was most likely not a literal portent, but a fear of his that whatever secret he carried would see many people turn against him - either way, there is a Big Thing with Rudolf that never got elaborated on at any point ever.

For this reason, and a couple more, I am inclined to think that if there is a person playing dead, then that person is Rudolf. It would give us room to explore this abandoned plot thread, and it would create a full circle parallel with the comments earlier in the story about how much Rudolf acts like Kinzo - the dead father pretending to be alive, the alive son pretending to be dead. And more than any of that, more than any narrative or thematic reason for this working, is the fact that there is something associated with Rudolf that has otherwise only come up with the discussion of dead bodies.

I am, of course, talking about makeup.

There is a point made of highlighting that Rudolf wears makeup in the earlier chapters as a means of highlighting his superficiality and vanity. He is the pervert covered in glamour. He is, quite literally, bringing a false face to the family conference. Rudolf’s face, his true self and his secrets, have been concealed from the start. Makeup as an image is tied to Rudolf and used as a reinforcement of the fact that this man is not to be trusted.

The word “makeup” is also used in exactly one other context: the mutilated bodies. First we are told that all this gore has ruined the immaculate makeup on Rudolf’s face, and then further down the line we are treated to the description of blood described as "makeup” plastering the corpses. It’s a very curious word to throw into Battler’s panicked monologue, incongruent enough to stick in your mind more than most details.

Given that, it is not much of a stretch to assume we are seeing the literal masquerading as the figurative - this is the whole MO of the Witch Narrative, after all. In a sea of real blood and guts, who would notice that one person in the group was instead pained with makeup? We already know that there is an artificial substance in abundance on Rokkenjima that can be used to mimic the appearance of blood - if it can be painted on doors to create the illusion of a magic circle, then surely it can also be painted on a human face to create the illusion of a corpse.

So in this scenario, Rudolf sits pretty and painted in a sea of bodies, and slips out at the last possible moment. He then hangs around somewhere unseen for a while, before being the one to murder Kanon.

On several levels, this makes sense - whatever schemes Rudolf and/or Kyrie had cooking were derailed by the Witch Narrative, and as someone firmly cemented in the Ushiromiya hierarchy his first instinct would be to take it out on Kanon. This would serve as an explanation for the loathing and disgust conveyed by Beatrice in the boiler room scene, but it does still leave several elements unanswered.

If we assume the Beatrice stuff to be a fantastical plastering over a mundane killing, then we need to ask why Kanon would think and say the things he does if the person before him was Rudolf. Rudolf is emblematic of several kinds of power and abuse, but he is not directly a literal or metaphorical figurehead for Kanon’s oppression. Rudolf is most Kinzo-like when his face is full of makeup - it is an insincere mask with no substance to it. Rudolf is someone Kanon only sees once a year. It makes no sense for Rudolf to be someone Kanon feels the need to take a stand against like this. Rudolf doesn’t really have it in him to be a satisfying Beatrice.

Unless, of course, something changed during the time the surviving Rudolf was off-screen. There are eight whole hours he is unaccounted for. Enough time, perhaps, for someone dedicated enough to solve the epitaph and learn of whatever grim truths lie alongside the gold vault? Perhaps something that relates to his final unspoken secret? There’s still a lot of ground to cover in that area. There’s every possibility the answer lies there, that somewhere down the line we’ll find out how someone could so easily embody a Beatrice position.

That said, this is not the only option for explaining things. Beyond the idea of bodies not being dead and blood makeup and failsons turning into witches, there is something else very weird that goes on in this chapter that absolutely needs looking at, and might even take us to a stranger place than that.

Structurally, chapter 14 is strange. It is a chapter with several oddities - the appearance of the otherwise ephemeral and totally unseen Beatrice, and it is a chapter without a defined timestamp. Every other chapter in Umineko tells us when it happens and goes out of its way to make sure it doesn’t tip its hand too soon with the Beatrice enigma. So for Kanon’s death chapter to feature a lack of time and an abundance of butterflies and other witch-related happenings is more than a little suspect.

Namely because this is not even the first time this has happened in this story. There is one other chapter in the story which deprives us of a timestamp and shows us a golden butterfly, and that’s chapter 9. Which is also, curiously and alarmingly, Shannon’s final chapter.

I spent a lot of time going over chapter 9, highlighting the strangeness of its structure and what that could mean. My conclusion at the time was that we were witnessing something doctored and unreal - to borrow terminology I’ve learned since, my conclusion was that chapter 9 was a “fantastical scene”. I also spoke about how Shannon and Kanon have the curious quirk of being the only ones to ever actually see with their own eyes evidence of Beatrice’s existence, a fact which continues to hold true even in chapter 14.

Now, you could argue that this “disruption” is evidence of the metatextual ripple effect Beatrice’s manifestation is having on Umineko’s reality, but even that wouldn’t be a satisfying answer, because there is also one other time Shannon and Kanon have had structurally identical scenes, and that example was completely devoid of any hints of Beatrice or magic.

Way back at the start of the story, Shannon and Kanon have basically the same introduction scene: they awkwardly present themselves before the family, they fumble their duties and drop something, one adult berates them while another adult berates the first for being too harsh on them, Battler makes the same comparison to a waitress dropping a fork for both of them, and then they have a debrief scene afterwards that hints at deeper, more complicated feelings towards the situation.

Shannon and Kanon enter the story using the same narrative beats with a slightly different retexture. Shannon and Kanon also leave the story using the same narrative shape with a slightly different retexture.

Both walk off on their own going directly against their assigned duties - Shannon heads to the mansion instead of the guesthouse, and Kanon runs off on his own instead of sticking with Kumasawa. Both have a conflict between their “furniture” and real selves - Shannon calms the Sayo inside her to prevent causing a scene, and Kanon attempts to cast aside his furniture role in order to directly cause a scene. Both witness glowing butterflies on their own in a dark corner, and both are heavily implied to have been directly murdered by Beatrice more than any other person in the story. The only difference is that for Kanon, we see it happen, and I can’t help but wonder that had chapter 9 been a full length chapter that we wouldn’t have seen something very similar unfold with Shannon.

This is yet another heap of stuff to add to the pile of “weird parallels and symmetries between Shannon and Kanon” that keeps growing throughout the story. This still isn’t even really touching the bizarre relationship they have to Beatrice and all the ways that that’s played out - both having the ghost story in common, both occupying an odd proximity to the role of “Beatrice”, Shannon as vessel and Kanon as performer. There is a lot of this kind of stuff swirling around the two of them, and I think it really comes to a head with Kanon’s death.

After all, one way of reading this chapter is that both Shannon and Kanon end up suffering the exact same destiny. Neither escapes being furniture, and Beatrice kills them for it. Shannon buried Sayo where she shouldn’t have, and Kanon’s casting aside of being furniture came too little too late. Different textures, but the same shape. This, combined with the fact that both are notorious Witch Narrative spinners in their own ways, paints a very bizarre picture full of question marks with no clear answer.

Nobody else in Umineko shares this level of direct parallel, so it has to mean something deeply significant that Shannon and Kanon are entwined like this. I don’t have the answer yet, but I do think that this is not the end of it. I think that as soon as the metafiction stuff really comes into focus that all of this will become extremely relevant. These two are wrapped around Umineko’s core story structure in a way nobody else is, narratively weird in a way that is only otherwise seen with entities that “exist” in the story. I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but there very much is something going on that cannot and should not be ignored.

And one final thing, one final deranged detail that’s worth pointing out that threatens to possibly undermine several thousand words of this very writeup, is that the word “makeup” appears in the description of Kanon’s death. He lies there, hole in his chest, blood makeup dribbling down his body. I previously asserted that this was indicative of a surviving Rudolf taking up the mantle of being a threatening individual acting outside the group, but Kanon also has this word applied to him. A hint towards his killer, or something else?

If Kanon’s death is tainted with the word “makeup”, this means we should suspect something about it. Perhaps it is merely drawing attention to the fact that the stake to the chest is just decoration and affect - to get really tinfoil with it, Kanon managed to pull the stake from his chest before collapsing. If everything is fantastical, perhaps so too is the assertion that the stake was ever in his chest in the first place - perhaps for whatever reason his assailant did not have the time/means to set this up exactly like an epitaph murder. Or perhaps something more is going on. After all, Kanon leaves the chapter mortally wounded, but he is not actually confirmed dead. There’s wriggle room here for something else to happen.

Maybe, just maybe, what we saw here was merely another farce. Kanon taking the chance to fake his death and take himself out of the story while he still can - killing “Kanon” the furniture so the human beneath the mask can survive. Notions of Beatrice and a 19th person and an impossible murder as theatrics to cover up the fact that the tragedy at the heart of the scene is without substance. If so, the question would be whether or not this was intended by The Plan or if this is indeed Kanon acting out on his own. Has Kanon gone behind the scenes to be Genji’s “ghost” because there is no miraculously-surviving Rudolf? Are there two people in this position now? Is there any true substance to any of these theories at all?

I don’t know. I think the truth lies somewhere among all this noise, but I do think it’s starting to come into focus.

[reblogdirect]

Thoughts about Book 7 and how the new theories are messing with my head (Spoilers ahead)

You know, when I first started playing twisted wonderland, book 6 wasn't out on JP servers yet so there was basically very little content about Diasomnia aside from the crumbs in the events, yet I was sure of one thing.

Diasomnia was going to be a crazy story.

The moment I learnt more about the four of them, I thought for sure there had been a war between faes and humans, and that either Lilia/Maleficia had cursed Silver in retaliation of his ancestors. There was 0 doubts to me that when we'd reach Diasomnia's book, we were going to get a literal bomb concerning Silver's true past. I KNEW his parents/ancestors would be the Draconias' enemies. I didn't know how it would play out, but that was something that was clear to me.

I was sure that Malleus would overblot because he'd learn of Silver's ancestors and how his parents had died because of Silver's human family.

I thought we had to learn of the past because it would be the cause of Malleus trauma.

But now that we keep on going through book 7, things went down differently, and that kind of confuses me. We're not just discovering Malleus' trauma compared to other books. We're literally getting a glimpse into the past.... We're reliving the past that links so closely Malleus, Lilia, Silver and Sebek as well.

Heck, we're seeing how two kingdoms fell into ruins because of a war, and how it shaped up the future of two different races. And that got me thinking...

Why would Book 7 go to such lengths?

I mean, yeah, ever since Book 1 and Riddle's story, we've slowly gotten lengthier chapters as we progressed through the story. It started to branch out and we got more and more information. We'd get more glimpses of the overblottes, and I thought Book 6 had really gone in deep in the story... Yet Book 7 went even further.

But when you think about it... It's not even Malleus' "story", like it was for the other Dorm Leaders/Jamil/Ortho. He doesn't seem to be aware of how the events truly played out. He was an egg at that time, and I don't even think he knew that he hatched only because of Lilia's love.

We're clearly seeing that Lilia couldn't bring himself to tell a truth that would hurt his sons. And I doubt Maleficia would sit down Malleus and tell him anything about the past. In fact, I think she wouldn't even know that Silver is the Knight of Dawn's child.

So going back to Malleus' overblot. He didn't have a mental breakdown because he found out the truth about his mother's death. He didn't break down because the little human he ended up growing fond of and watched growing up was the son of the man that caused his mother's demise.

He didn't break down because he found out that Lilia knew all of this yet lied to him.

Compared to the other overblottes, he literally lost it at the start of his book. This is my personal thought, but he didn't seem to overblot because he lost it like the other 6. He literally seemed apathetic to me at that moment, and then he seemed to "embrace" his blot. It reminded me of how Idia said to "Ortho" to leave it to his nii-chan before he overblotted, yet we learnt later on that Ortho's death was a deep trauma for Idia. Malleus on the other hand? There wasn't THAT type of factor that caused something to break in him.

Like don't get me wrong, I'm not at all diminishing his love for Lilia/Silver/Sebek or even his fear of being alone and loosing them... But when I look at what we're discovering in Book 7... Just why would he overblot before we even got to the absolutely tragic moments we're seeing? The tragic past HE's witnessing as well??

If Malleus' curse/blessing was so that EVERYONE would live a "happy ending"... If his wish was for the others to be happy... WHY would Lilia dream of this??? Why would Lilia relive some of the most tragic moments in his life when he's supposed to dream happily? We could've just had the cute moments where he raised Malleus, Silver and then Sebek...

There seems to be no reason whatsover for Book 7 to go so far in the story...

Unless they're not actually telling us the story of why Malleus is overblotting...But instead, it's hinting at someone else's story.

I know I'm going all over the place, but I just have to talk about another of my initial thoughts when I started playing. At that time, I was also convinced that Grim was that beast at the start of the prologue, and that he'd end up overblotting or whatever it was that caused him to become like that. I was even more convinced when we learnt that he had a mysterious and ancient curse on him.

When we learnt of Malleus' dad, there was a lot of crack theories that came around saying that Crowley was his long lost dad. I didn't like it at all, not because he's a pathetic man, but because it scared me with its implications lol.

I've always been convinced that Crowley is a manipulator and is hiding weeell his true thoughts/motives. Part of it is definitely because of the sequence we see at the start of the game when it shows him summoning Yuu, yet we've basically NEVER saw him act so seriously later on. He's silly, a coward, and leaves everything to others to fix... But what if that's what he wants others to belive about him? Regardless of who he actually is, I sincerely don't think that a man that has so many ties can truly be so foolish.

I wasn't sure if he was purposely causing the overblots or not, because I sincerely couldn't think of a motive for him.

But now, with Book 7? I can think of a very clear motive, like some theories have brought it up...

Meleanor.

You know, when we heard of Leven and Meleanor a couple of months back, I thought maybe he's the one who had the same fate as Diablo (meaning he got turned to stone/killed) while Meleanor would loose it from the pain.

Yet what have we seen in this chapter? She was still alive, and she has been the one to die first.

So what if as Lilia/Baul & Egg Malleus fled, Levan came only to find the aftermath of the battle?

What if he only found his beloved's corpse, knowing he was too late? What if HE was the one to lose it instead of Meleanor, like Maleficient had in the movie?

If truly Crowley is Levan and is trying to bring back Meleanor, it would explain why he's causing the overblots. It would explain why he's hiding his identity and acting dumb, why they didn't even show us a silhouette of his despite that ugly Henric bastard having a sprite. I mean some could argue that Leah/Leia(?) didn't get a silhouette either despite being the Knight of Dawn's spouse... But let's be real, she's simply not as important as Levan was to Meleanor, Lilia & Malleus.

Part of me thinks of what this theory would imply with Lilia and Malleus. Both of them would be furious and heartbroken, but I think he'd be ready to lose everything if it means getting back his wife. And in the case he fails, I think he would just be willing to face death instead of seeking forgiveness from his old friend and his son.

Anyways I should stop rambling now lol. I just needed to get this out of my chest because Book 7 and the theories with it have literally taken over my thoughts and I just.... keep on thinking. I can't wait to see how

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

talking of family day/parent teacher conferences at NRC, think about how much people would want to pick a fight with riddle's mom and maybe even jamil's parents. crowley would hide it but riddle mom and jamil parents would go full karen mode if they found out about their sons overblotting too. they would be even more unbearable than usual omg

[Referencing this post!]

Heartslabyul forms a human barrier around Riddle 😇 Cater clones have to hold Adeuce back from doing or saying something to offend Mama Rosehearts (even though they so badly want to punch her and/or publicly tell her off). TREY HAS TO AWKWARDLY MEET HER GAZE ("Hello, ma'am. Nice to see you again?") ... I don't know if Mama Rosehearts remembers him or not, but if she does then she'll probably make a face or comment that Riddle is still hovering around bad influences from his youth.

It was so sad seeing the total change in Riddle's personality when he talks about confronting his mom during winter break 💦 He just turns into a shell of himself... (I'm not exactly a fan of Riddle shouting or enforcing his will on others, but such a drastic change in his character when his mom is around... 😭 That's truly an indication of the toxicity he grew up with and how much his mother's teachings were drilled into him.) We never really did see the aftermath of that winter break conversation (if they had it at all), so we have no idea how Mama Rosehearts reacted. I doubt she would have heard her son out; people tend to be set in their ways. If that's the case, would Riddle return to being that meek, obedient boy in the presence of his mom? Or would being at NRC with his dorm mates and his friends give him more courage to hold his ground against some of her demands?? 🤔

I feel bad for Jamil too because he's also in a situation where he has to act docile around his parents (or else be scolded and told to behave). Constantly repressing your real thoughts and feelings can take its toll on someone, especially for as long as Jamil has been doing it... I also distinctly get the impression that the Viper parents will fuss just as much about Kalim (or maybe even more) than their own son?? (Like asking how he's been, asking if there's anything they can do for Kalim, has Jamil been serving him well, etc.)

My hope would be that Kalim, now knowing what Jamil's been bottling up, holds his tongue about the winter break OB incident, but would still be able to speak up on behalf of Jamil. As mentioned in episode 4, there's no way Kalim can make a system which has existed for several generations disappear by just saying, "Jamil doesn't like it, so can you give him his freedom now?" However, I do think Kalim's sociability (and his status, of course) can help smooth over any tension between Jamil and his family. Maybe he'd say something like, "Jamil's been doing a great job looking after me! You don't need to worry about him. He's doing everything he can, so... I'm gonna give it my all too!" And only Kalim and Jamil would know what he's really talking about: that Jamil has said he's going to work hard and be his own person, and that Kalim wants to work just as hard to be his rival and meet him on an equal playing field.

I see Mama Rosehearts going Karen mode more than the Viper parents (though I do think the Viper parents would worry about Kalim's safety and get upset with their son for his involvement in attempting to harm him, whatever his reasons were for it). There is the classic Karen entitlement to how Mama Rosehearts behaves, but the Vipers seem to be more... humble? Or at least not as self-centered... though I guess the trade-off there is that other people (Jamil) bear the emotional burden on their behalf. They're both "evils", I guess--just in their own ways.

[alexrosekey]

Hermione-centric and HP World Building Expansion edition

A late entry from me. Beware that this list is based on my personal preference. If you don't like the ships, remember the rule - don't like don't read. Ship and let ship!

That being said, it has been a while since the last time I've come up with a rec list. But reccing great fanfics has remained one of my greatest passion. Having decided to fully integrated myself into the Harry Potter fandom again, I'm amazed at how creative and talented the authors of this fandom are. There are a plethora of interesting ideas and premises, with various themes and genres along with inquisitive, thoughtful observation regarding the characters and the world building of Harry Potter.

Without further ado, let's dive in to my submission for today's @hprecfest prompt: fics with over 100k+ words. All the fics below are Hermione-centric (one less than the other two but still), with amazing social commentaries on the HP world and impeccable observation on the magical world, which to me are the best aspect of HP fic.

unsphere the stars by @cocoartistwrites (M, 222,827, Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle)

When you can't change time, but you can't go forward, what is left? Hermione learns how to be the protagonist of her own story.

To quote one of the bookmarks: Hermione is more than she ever was. This story is a journey of Hermione to grow, to love and to explore magic and its beauty more than she could ever be. Don't let the pairing deter you, this is no doubt one of the most memorable fanfic reading experience I have in my years of being in fandoms. Hermione and Tom are both portrayed spectacularly and thoughtfully, and the prose are some of the most poetic I've ever seen.

To sum up the whole of my reading experience, I laid on my bed and stared at the ceiling for 30 mins after reading the last chapter, completely shell-shocked.

All I could say is, if you want an astounding character arc for Hermione, with in-depth magical system and immersive world building, plus interesting OCs and breathtaking writing, then this fic is definitely for you!

*This fic could also be placed under the prompt of Day 7: A Canon-Compliant Fic.

2. What's Past is Prologue by ABitofWit (E, 244,611, Hermione Granger/Lucius Malfoy)

It's eight years after the war and Hermione Granger has taken a break from her career at the Ministry of Magic to compile an oral history of the conflict. She's interviewed just about everyone she can get her hands on but she wants to be thorough. And that means getting in contact with a very unwilling Lucius Malfoy.

Listen, I know the pairing is weird as fuck. I know, I had my doubt too before reading it. But the raving bookmarks convinced me to give this a chance. And boy, it was one of the best decisions I've ever made.

This fic is more than just a ship fic, it's about love and what we would do for it, the greyness of life and choices, of redemption and finding one's self worth outside of pre-existing, archaic ideas and values. It's about change and how we're never too old to learn. WPIP is everything I've ever wanted in a fic, emotional, sincere, humorous, gorgeous, sexy, steamy and sweet. Full of heart and soul.

Most of all, the development of and between Hermione and Lucius is so natural and makes a lot of sense, without them being OOC. This fic reminds me that Hermione is not at all flawless (the opposite of the usual Mary-Sue, little-miss-perfect trope that Hermione tends to be portrayed in fics), while successfully humanizes and makes Lucius Malfoy one of the most interesting HP characters in my eyes. (Who would have thought that I've spent years not giving a jot about this guy, only to fall in love with such a mess of a man like him??)

Combine with sharp commentaries and observations on the British Wizarding World, Wizarding politics and a not-canon folder supporting cast, this is no doubt one of the best HP fic, and one of the best fanfic I've ever had the pleasure to read.

*This fic could also be placed under the prompt of Day 2: A Comfort Fic and Day 9: A Rare Pair Fic.

3. Six Pomegranate Seeds by Seselt (E, 185,965, no pairing but implied Theodore Nott/Hermione Granger)

At the end, something happened. Hermione clutches at one fraying thread, uncertain whether she is Arachne or Persephone. What she does know is that she will keep fighting to protect her friends even if she must walk a dark path.

Sooo, this is one very weird fic. One of the oddest fics I've ever encoutered, in fact. I've read it twice, one before I read the book series in full, one after I've finished the books. And let me tell you, SPS is a stunning work.

The odd, floating third-person POV, the dry and sharp, straightforward tone of Hermione. Her competency, her compassion despite all the pain and the emotional repression. This is definitely not your usual time travel fix-it fic.

Most of Hermione's work happened in tandem with the 7 books' main storyline. Hermione's soul is put into the body of a young orphan Pureblood heiress. This gives the fic one of the most interesting spin on the Hermione-is-a-pureblood trope.

Through Hermione, we have a closer look into the background and the context of the main events of the books, plus a deeper understanding of the Pureblood society and a much more sympathetic view into the students Slytherin house. All without whitewashing and offsetting the corruption and the effects of the Purebloods and the Slytherins' stuffy, archaic views on not only the young generation of students but also the British Wizarding world.

I lost count of the amount of time I slapped my knees while reading this work the second time whenever I encountered a particularly sharp line of thought/commentary from Hermione in this fic. I'm also amazed at how much work and research the author has put into SPS, particularly in terms of making up tons of new magical theories and the use of exotic and lesser known vocabulary (seriously, if you decide to read this one, prepare a dictionary next to you, or get ready to regularly stop mid reading in order to look up certain words 😆)

*This fic could also be placed under the prompt of Day 7: A Canon-Compliant Fic.

That being said, thank you for checking out my list! Thank the admins of @hprecfest for holding such a fun activity. Feel free to join in yourself. Happy reading 💋

Day 16: A fic that made you laughed

Day 19: Fic with the hottest smut

Day 22: An unfinished fic (hasn't updated in 10 years or the author stated it has been abandoned)

Day 26: A fic with an ending you can't stop thinking about

[minzart]

saw you bored, so!

how do you think the cast of twst would react to MC referencing the villains in ways that go against the dorm's fundamental ideals

In heastlabyul I can see ace, Trey and Carter agreeing with Yuu's "THE QUEEN BROKE THE RULES ALL THE TIME! HOW THE FUCK DO YOU THINK THERE ARE SO MANY RULES THAT CONTRADIC EACH OTHER?!" Riddle however is fuming with rage and ready to absolutely behead you with his own bare hands, Deuce believes but he's having a hard time remembering wich rules Yuu's referring to

In savanaclaw I can see them not beliving Yuu or not giving a shit, "so? What if the king of beasts might have been a coward in his dieing breath? Were you there? Are you sure? No? So shut it"(Leona probably). Jack's probably more curious on were Yuu is getting this ideas from, everyone is tbh but he's the only one admitting it

Octavinele, Azul specifically, I can see him making excuses for Ursula like "SHE'S A BUSSINES WOMAN OF COUSE SHE IS GONNA TRY TO MAKE IT HARDER FOR WHOEVER THE HELL "ARIEL" IS?? THAT'S JUST HOW BUSSINESS WORK!" Jade is filming and Floyd is throwing more fire into the circus, sometimes siding with Yuu others with Azul.

Now Scarabia, I can see Kalim being more curious than anything, he would be more inclined to belive Yuu's words since they are friends, and bc he's the more emotionally intelligent I can see him believing these stories bc even The sorcerer of sands was probably a person with feelings and emotions that can get turbulent as anyone else. Jamil won't outright tell Yuu they are dumb but lord he is thinking about it and just would be like "alright but if he did when MAD with power then what about the stupid ruler?"

I can only see zero fucks given by the Pomefiore trio, "oh? She was jealous of someone's apearence? Sounds familiar to me-"(epel probably), Vil has Neige my guy of course he gets jealous, specially if the compliment came from someone you actually care about (see aparently in some versions the Mirror is Grimhilde's father), in other words he kins her, Rook is Rook he will wax prety poetry of the human nature still being beautiful even at it's ugliest

Ignhyde, I can see Ortho searching for this info online and either stating he found it or that the record has been lost to time and being frustrated by it, Idia will still say that the underworld king still invented that counter so Yuu can't say he WASN'T a genius, even if the way he made his plan was dependable on luck and organic matter.

In Diasomnia, Lilia didn't expected anything diferent knowing the draconia line he probably assumes every dragon fary is that petty, Silver doesn't doubt it happened but doesn't really care that much, sebek is siding with Maleficent bc he is a simp for the Draconia Bloodline and Malleus is pouting bc in his head she was absolutely justified to curse a fucking baby for not being invited.

[gwenllian-in-the-abbey]

While there isn't that much to book! Helaena but what we know so far that she was a happy, gentle, and brave girl who claimed a fierce and old dragon like dreamfyre when she was only 11/13. Who was also so loved by the smallfolk apparently and was politically involved before b&c destroyed her, i just don't understand how and why the showrunners tried to minimise Helaena's role (it was already small in f&b) and turned her into a lonely somber character who has no personality traits beside being obsessed with bugs, even her prophecies only makes her a walking talking spoiler it's not even written in an interesting way like asoiaf!bran or dany or melisandre etc.... and then they have the nerve to call their writing feminist 💀

Hi anon! I really had to think about this one, because I agree that compared to her brothers, show!Helaena gets a pretty shallow characterization. One of the problems I think with show!Helaena is that while they've given her more of a personality, they haven't given her a motivation. There is nothing wrong with her being a neurodivergent bug girl with prophesies, and I think even her visions could be an interesting twist to her character, but the show failed to convey what drives Helaena, or even show how she feels about the conflict.

Granted, Helaena's characterization in the book is kind of thin, but I'd argue that book!Aemond's characterization, for instance, is also thin. Aemond is a mean asshole with a chip on his shoulder, but the show went out of its way to humanize him by giving him motivation, backstory, and an arc that will likely follow him through the show. Even Luke, who literally exists within the story to start conflict, is given doubts about being the heir to Driftmark and the need to prove himself. But Helaena? We have no idea what drives her. I want to know how Helaena envisions herself within this conflict! So she has prophesies, and she tries to communicate them, but that's not working. Now what? She and Aegon are both crying at his coronation, but we have a good idea why Aegon is crying. What about Helaena? Is it because she's seen their doom? Is she sad for Aegon? Does she feel like her family is doing the wrong thing on a moral level? And has she told anyone how she feels? And this is where the prophesy part gets lost because if Helaena's visions are coherent enough that she knows crowning Aegon is a bad idea, then why does she only speak them in cryptic riddles? She's capable of expressing herself relatively clearly otherwise, so the riddles are a contrived way to keep anyone, including Helaena, from acting on those visions, or the rest of her family from realizing she has them at all. So the visions add a tragic element to her character, but don't actually give Helaena anything to do, plotwise. This is a character whose death is the catalyst for the riots which drive Rhaenyra from the city, so there is certainly material there to work with.

And the thing is, Blood and Cheese, an absolutely inarguably evil act, is going to happen to Helaena early on in the second season, and when that happens, Helaena becomes the so-called "perfect victim." Helaena's character is something of a cipher, someone that the viewer can project their own values and assumptions onto. We have Helaena who is secretly in love with Aemond, Helaena who had a loving relationship with Rhaenyra, Helaena who was a good wife to Aegon, Helaena who loved Aegon as a brother but not a wife, Helaena who was Otto's favorite, Helaena who didn't care about the family feud, and all of these Helaenas exist simultaneously without really directly contradicting anything that was shown on screen. And because she remains this blank slate character, it is acceptable to sympathize with her even though her side is in conflict with Rhaenyra. The viewer can say, "well Helaena didn't deserve that, she was innocent!" But the thing is, no one deserves what happened to Helaena and her children. Helaena does not need to be perfectly neutral for her to be a victim, to have never held an unkind thought against Rhaenyra for her suffering to matter. This idea that someone cannot be worthy of any sympathy or empathy unless their hands are completely clean absolutely permeates this fandom (just look at the reaction to Alicent), and online discourse at large, and whether the show realizes it or not, they've played into it by making Helaena the "true innocent," as if she were a child with no agency of her own, when she is actually a beloved queen, an adult, a dragonrider and a mother.

That's not to say the show couldn't give her more to do in season 2, they could. Maybe Blood and Cheese will motivate her and she will take action. Hopefully, if the show follows the book and makes her beloved of the smallfolk, it will be for something other than how beautifully she suffers.

[factorialsotherfandoms]

(XCOMau this would just be cute but Cellbit insisted on a lore dump and angsty internal monologue)

It is ten o'clock in the morning, and Cellbit feels barely awake. Roier is away visiting friends, Pac and Mike are holed up in their lab, Felps is... somewhere, doing something, he is sure. Bagi is about, playing in the mud with the children while Cellbit blearily sips at his coffee.

Give him another ten minutes, and he can use Pepito as bait to get Bobby and Richarlyson into a bath. Empanada is there, too, sat on her mother's shoulders more for the height advantage than the claimed attempt not to get mud on her petticoats.

That's four of the five children of their community, but where- he knows she has a tendency to turn invisible when stressed, a side effect of her genetics, but it shouldn't be that stressful, he thought-

A little hand tugs on his trousers.

Cellbit looks down, and let's his heartrate calm.

"Hope," he smiles at her. "Is everything okay?"

She reaches up her arms, and a thought nudges against Cellbit's mental shields. He puts his coffee down and reaches back, scooping the tiny one up and into his lap.

Pepito is, he thinks, physically a little younger than her. Pepito is so much less frail, though, roughing and tumbling like any child, rather than riddled with bruises and breaks and exhaustion from the slightest knock.

Cellbit loves her anyway, just as she loves him, and planting trees, and decorating the castle or Felps' hut, and helping run buckets of water up and down from the well. At least she is a quiet child anyway - if Richarlyson were sick in the same ways, he doesn't think he would manage.

Sick, ill, frail... Cellbit hates all the terms for it, what they mean for his little girl, but the one he hates most is the Federation's label of 'defective'. Both of the children who were his first - Hope and Richarlyson both - were labelled with it, like so many of the others. They are not defective, they are children, just children who needed to be loved.

Hope must feel his anger, for she looks at him with big eyes.

"Not you," he tells her. "Never you, you're perfect, my little girl."

Her doubt sounds in Cellbit's mind. She offers another thought, of herself, and Pomme, and Tallulah.

It takes him a second.

Ah. She's asking if her sisters can come visit.

There are already five children for him and Bagi to look after, two more... well, he needs to speak to Philza anyway. And whichever of the French wish to come, they are always welcome.

"If their parents come too," he tells her. "Tia Bagi and I can't watch seven of you."

The smile he gets is bright but small, before she pulls up her legs and curls against his chest.

Cellbit... he wonders, sometimes, if she doesn't remember something of her rescue. She was too starved, too abused, to unwell to even approach consciousness, a tiny, dwindling flicker of life in an otherwise deserted cell. And yet... every time she sits against him, she always curls up the same way - head on his right shoulder, ear to his collar bone and face turned in, legs curled so her left side presses against his torso, arms limp in his lap.

It is exactly how he picked her up, before, how he tucked her safely against himself and took her away.

He kisses the top of her head, and already she is half way to sleep. It worries him, it always worries him, how her stamina is so thin and her body so weak. Doctor Ruiz says it is unfortunately predictable, after six years of near total neglect - not even getting the food the other rejected children did. If she were human, Hope would be dead years ago. As she is not...

Nobody can tell if she will keep improving, or if this is her life forever. Nobody knows if this was the condition she was cast aside for, or a mark of the neglect. Nobody knows what tomorrow brings, only that they still have a today.

It is not the end of the world, though. It is not a death sentence, and not a crime; Felps' condition is different, but in that regard they are the same. Just because they both need more rest does not make their waking hours mean any less. Neither does it make them any less precious, or loved, or mean that that Cellbit will not perfectly happily curl up with either - both - of them in a pile of pillows for hours on end.

"Would you like a story?" He asks his daughter, knowing how she fears the oncoming dark, how terrified she is that any time she sleeps he might abandon her again.

A nod against his neck, and Cellbit melts at the progress to have found something that she loves, something she agrees to - asks for, sometimes - outside of her sister.

"Alright" he tells her. "Story and a nap, and when you wake up your sisters will be here."

Triplets, two rejected for their disabilities, the third given away simply because her sisters were "flawed" and their creators worried about a "contaminated batch". Richarlyson, too, with a missing leg, and Flippa's eyesight and Bobby's temper and Chayanne simply not being sonically adept... it goes on and on and on and Cellbit hates the Federation somehow even more than before, now they have decoded the documents on their children.

Calm, calm, calm, they're already dead and he's a little one to help to sleep.

Bagi has Empanada and the boys, he has little Hope. It is fine, it is fine, they are all going to be fine.

"Once upon a time there was a princess who lived in a beautiful castle," he tells her. "The princess had three brothers, two sisters, and a great many cousins and siblings and friends. The princess was kind and gentle and beloved by all, but, one day, an evil witch came up with a curse..."

[minobe-household]

the woman that dwells in that chashitsu near the corps is a curious one.

it seems everyone has a different idea as to who she truly is. some doubt she's even human.

but that's what happens as a story is passed around enough. the only comfort found in what people could be certain of didn't even lie in total certainty.

her name, or so she claims, is minobe yuuto. a surname shared with the very household bearing yatagarasu's crest, responsible for training the kasugai crows. very little is known it, however—let alone the family that forms it. even the ubayashikis themselves would gently refuse to say anything about who they are.

it just so happens that yuuto was such mystery's exception: the name of the minobes' young daughter who visited from a vast, untraceable nowhere. those who have been around long enough to tell the tale claim she just appeared at the mansion one day, and started showing up regularly. a few years past, she even took up work as a demon slayer... but then, she disappeared.

and the woman who stood in her place doesn't seem anything like that girl they once knew.

her appearance holds a multitude of interpretations, but was well known to be a grim sight. ghastly pale, dark, foggy eyes, an insufferable cold to her stare—every moment watching her as she remained still left the lingering weight one feels witnessing a corpse. she was always distant, idly muttering to herself in hushed riddles.

and yet, for one as lifeless as she, there was a strange sense of warmth to the woman's demeanor. when she could be heard above the whispers of air, her tone was carried gently, as though each and every word was created just for the sake of those she spoke to. she seemed not to care more for anything other than those around her to live proper lives.

and such beliefs extended to the enemy.

she has taken the heads of several—possibly enough to rival that of some of the highest ranks themselves—but so she says, she has only killed one. even upon beasts that speak of nothing but a lust for death, destruction, would she gaze down upon with no more than mere pity.

and of all things, she showed sympathy to whose flesh she would rend to ash. in the woman's eyes, demons merely seemed to be individuals down the wrong path—those who could be guided, reformed, unless they refuse to accept such change. and they did, time and time again, always choosing the very same violence that she would have to reciprocate. yet she would still greet each one cordially, as though they were no different from man. she would still accompany them, wish them a peaceful rest as they disintegrated.

many have observed, many have questioned, but the woman ceases to show any reason nor change to her ways, almost as if she were trapped. whether she was one to be trusted has been clouded amongst the countless theories and rumors. generally, though, most say it's a subject best left alone.

it's not very polite to talk about someone who may be listening, after all.

[cock-holliday]

Still talking about it, but ultimately, what was the point of any of it then? I’m clinging to the idea that Bruce and others’ influence at (and eventual swift departure from) Naughty Dog is indicative that there IS still meaning in the first one, but the idea that all of this is the natural conclusion renders so many powerful moments from the first game meaningless.

Ellie is characterized by her snark and wit and humor as well as her stubbornness, as well as a shining burst of hope and positivity. Joel, and by extension the player, would be foolish to think her optimism and hope are out of naivety though. But now, through both game 2 and the HBO show, the moments that prove that her desire for hope is in spite of what she’s been through out of conscious effort and not because of being sheltered becomes recontextualized to show she was silly for ever expecting a better outcome.

The pivotal moment of Ellie’s arc is the winter chapter. She has struggled against Joel’s helicoptering (which is only out of his OWN fear of losing her) and insistence she can’t protect herself, but now is on her own. She proves her capabilities, she shows her knowledge and grit and the grim reality that she is VERY aware of the world she lives in. She’s brave, she’s determined, but she’s also terrified. She’s a child. And at the conclusion of the arc, she kills the antagonist in defense, but also in rage and desperation and agony of everything she’s been through. She isn’t cruel. She is kind. She is kind to Joel, she is kind to Sam, she is kind to people and animals and things but has to do what she has to. And it hurts her.

Her optimism takes a blow. Her hope takes a blow. She becomes withdrawn and doubtful and is very very VERY clearly trundling towards the conclusion that after everything, she has to give her entire self to make up for the loss. Which is WRONG. Her conclusion is wrong! Her conclusion is from guilt, survivors guilt, from guilt from what she’s been forced to do, from adults placing sacrificial significance on her. She didn’t ask for this. It just happened to her, and the only shred of agency she has is in walking towards what could be her demise.

What powerful messages about hope and loss and trauma and trying to find the good in circumstances riddled with trauma an ambiguous ending is. And how subversive it would be to let her heal. Let Joel, her mirror in many ways, heal.

But no. Her trauma is actually the indication that even a sweet lovable young person is not free of evil. No, she should not be made out to be “pure”, this does nothing for her character and would hinder her growth too. But to make her out to be simply a slave to the “darkness of humanity” is…cruel. That taking agency is actually a sign of her violent impulses is cruel.

And ultimately what is the point? She’s not permitted much time with Joel in Jackson to heal. She doesn’t get to live peacefully with him. Her friends die or leave her, everyone who is still alive is scarred physically and mentally and will be a forever reminder of what she’s lost. She can’t connect to Joel in the one way she still could cling to throughout the second game.

Like what is the POINT? “After all we’ve been through. Everything I’ve done. It can’t be for nothing.” It WASNT! Not when she could heal, not when she could move on, not when she could learn that she is not responsible for humanity and the fate of the world does not rest on her shoulders. But she doesn’t get to heal. She gets to be blamed along with Joel for dooming humanity. All her understandable but unnecessary guilt turns out to be necessary, but with no resolution. There is nothing she can do to make it up, and nothing she gets to do to move forward. She loses everything.

And her only way forward is just surviving or dying. She can’t ever thrive now. She can’t ever heal. The farm portion of game 2 made that clear. Even away from everything there’s no escape. So there is no REASON to be hopeful or optimistic. The end of game 2 tries to suggest that NOW she can move forward but clearly she can’t! The second game makes her out to be a fool for being hopeful. Makes her naive for being kind and optimistic. Then punishes her brutally when the story forces her to abandon that hopefulness. That’s so fucked up.

[shallyne]

"This Barbie is illiterate" "Hahahaha illiterate human-"

This is not the joke anymore that you think it is. Y'all overused it, that was four books ago. Feyre WAS illiterate. She is not anymore. Let it go.

And while we're at it: Feyre learning to read and write as quickly as she did is not an unbelievable storyline. Y'all forget that Feyre already knew the basics, that she had taught herself, but no one bothered to teach her more. We've seen glimpses of Feyre being able to read, it just took her a really long time because she only knew the basics. The bare basics. And we've seen the glimpses already in book one.

Feyre could make out the word grasshopper in the riddle under the mountain. She could read the sentences that Rhys showed her. If they had given her enough time, she could have read it.

"You're reading at a level far higher than I anticipated."

Feyre is incredibly smart. I have no doubt she would've learned very quickly either way but she wasn't fully illiterate.

And a quick reminder:

Illiterate ≠ stupid

[riverxsong-ao3]

Chapter 18: Barty Crouch Jr's Subterfuge

“Now – the next Unforgivable, the one meant to torture – does anyone know that curse?” he asked.

A girl at the back of the class – Greengrass – raised her hand. “The Cruciatus, sir?” she answered as he nodded at her in turn.

“Right again,” Barty replied. “Rather nasty, meant to cause exquisite pain with no sign of injury.” He scooped the second spider from the jar, enlarging it as he placed it on Moody’s desk. “Needs to be bigger to understand the effects,” he explained. “Crucio.”

The spider immediately rolled over, twitching, its legs trembling in pain. It wasn’t like seeing the curse performed on a human, far from it, but the sight of the creature struggling feebly against the raw might of his magic still brought a rush of pleasure. As it rocked back and forth, growing increasingly frantic, he scanned the room with Moody’s magical eyeball, noting with glee how the students cringed back at the sick display, unused to seeing such sadism. Only Riddle seemed unperturbed, leaning forward, his jaw slightly slack, his eyes trained on the spider. There was a wanting look to his expression, as though he wished he were the one subjecting the pathetic creature to such horrors. Well, like father, like son, then. The Dark Lord would certainly be interested to hear about this.

“Pure agony,” Barty said, as he released the spider from his curse, shrank it, and shoved it back into the jar. “There’s no need for cutting curses or other physical torture, not if you can perform the Cruciatus Curse. And the final Unforgivable?”

This time, a multitude of hands flew into the air, and for good reason – the third and last Unforgivable Curse was perhaps the most well-known, particularly in the past thirteen years. Riddle’s hand was the first among them, his eyes still wide and glossy.

“Again, then, Riddle,” Barty said, his lips curling into a mockery of a smile.

“Avada Kedavra,” Riddle replied as he gazed at the jar of spiders, the syllables fairly dripping from his lips with reverence. “The killing curse…”

“That’s correct,” Barty said quietly as he retrieved the final spider and placed it on the desk. “The worst of the Unforgivable Curses: instant death. Observe – Avada Kedavra!”

The classroom was lit, briefly, with the blinding green light of the curse, and then the spider was dead, its body rolling across the desk. Barty glanced across the classroom – everyone’s eyes were wide, but none so much as Riddle’s, as he seemed to be drinking in the sight of the slaughtered arachnid, his expression full of hunger and longing.

Oh, yes. There was no doubt now in Barty’s mind that the boy belonged to the Dark Lord. Riddle clearly revelled in the Dark Arts, craving what most would shy away from, even those who desired great power. It would be no hard task to turn the boy towards his master’s will, to wrench him away from the side of Harry Potter, who even now stared at the dead spider in blank horror in perfect contrast of Riddle’s fascination and desire.

Yes, Barty was assured, it would be a simple task to bring the boy to his father indeed.

[inkybloom-luv]

Words Unsaid 12, so there's school festivals here too?

Heya guys! Today there's another setup chapter for you cuties! The chapters will come out slower now as I have not yet read chapter 5 completely so please give me time to do so! In the meantime I'd like to know if drabble requests are something you guys would be interested in.

Slight Chapter 5 spoilers!

Part 1 Part 11 Masterpost Part 13

1.5k+ words

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Even though he slept less than usual Jamil felt strangely energetic today. Perhaps it was because he'd slept the best he had in a while or straight up because he woke up next to Inky. It was such a simple thing but he'd be lying if he didn't wish it would happen more, just because of how nice it felt. Is it bad he wished the prefect would have more nightmares only so he could hold her..? Probably. But as it stood, this was the only way he was able to act on his own feelings. Not like he didn't know Inky had feelings for him before his Overblot but he doubted it was love, now that he'd done what he did. Still he hopes and dreams as he stirred the non-proverbial pot of curry in front of him. It was one of the dishes he was making for lunch. He was making something else for Kalim, of course, as Kalim obviously didn't like curry.. but Jamil and Inky could have it, especially since the prefect did say one time she really wanted to eat something Jamil made and admitted in the same sentence that they've been looking to try more foreign food like different curries. Also in that sentence they said that anything Jamil made would be more than satisfactory though.

At the same time that day Kalim was at a housewarden meeting, simply to discuss the future event that would be held soon. The National Arcane Academy Cultural Fair. It was a yearly event mostly consisting of artistic type events like poetry slams, research presentations and, the most well known part of it all, the SDC. The SDC, or Song & Dance Championship, was a contest for singers and dancers, basically any musical talent, to go up on stage, by themselves or in a group, and show their aforementioned talent to the world to show who was the best of the participants that year. The winners would get not only a monetary prize but also a ticket to stardom. Of course that ticket to stardom wasn't exclusive to first place but they had the best chance.

Riddle, who was head of the planning committee was rambling on and on about the details but the report was necessary. Turns out both Vil Schönheit and Neige LeBlanche would be participating this year as well, which meant extra press coverage for the school. Crowley was delighted about this of course and put up audition posters through negotiation with Vil that very same day. They were plastered all over a few notice boards, especially the one in the cafeteria. By lunchtime it was surrounded by people, which had sent Ace, Deuce and Grim to check it out. Inky stayed seated with Jamil and Kalim, though the occasional glance was thrown their way, since she was pally with Kalim as well as Jamil, who had literally tried to off them over the winter holidays that ended recently. Not that Inky really cared.

Unfortunately she did have to tear herself away from the Scarabian duo as she had class duty along with Deuce for the upcoming alchemy lesson and Ace was tagging along to chat. Speaking of Kalim and Jamil, that was where the conversation drifted, though grim did most of the talking.

"Seriously, first he tries to manipulate and kill you and now you're friends? Kinda weird if you ask me" Ace commented.

"Don't call my hench-human weird! Besides, it's not like he hasn't apologized and more. He's been taking care of me and Inky very well, Kalim also..! I think my henchman and I can decide who we, mostly I as a great mage, will spend our time with!"

"Thank you Grim.. I think that gets the point across. Besides.. Jamil is really nice to me, I like him a lot" The two half-students said, one confirming the other.

"What, you're still crushing on the guy? How? He literally gave you a massive scar on your arm, he could have ended you..!" Ace once again protested.

"And again, he apologized."

"You believe that?"

"Yes and you know next to nothing about him so I won't be hearing another word out of you about this..!" The prefect said, anger lacing into her stern tone, sending ace a small glare.

"Alright alright, I'll shut up" He said, though not happy about it. Before their conversation continued though, they were promptly distracted by singing.

"Who's singing? It sounds really nice" Deuce said as they listened, right after though, the singer seemed to choke up on their own voice, which sounded less than healthy. So, with slight concern, the group closed in on where the sounds were coming from, the well in the school courtyard.

Upon approach they met another first year, his name was Epel Felmier. He had lavender hair and blue eyes, his stature was small and skinny but well balanced, his skin was pale too and he spoke in a generally soft voice, unless some sort of accent came out that Inky personally could not place. All went well until they were interrupted by the Pomefiore housewarden Vil Schönheit. He had a regal presence, something like a king or queen in a sense that he was confident and knowledgeable in a few areas. Basically a perfect upperclassman if it weren't for his temper at that moment. Vil was upset that Epel was not training so he wanted to move Epel somewhere else so he wouldn't get interrupted. This went over wrong with Ace as well as Deuce as they misinterpreted Vil's tone and words. The fight that ensued wasn't even that long as Vil was vastly better at his magic than those two unfortunate souls.

The end result was an utter defeat which gave Vil the opportunity to leave with the lavender haired boy. Though not before the latter waved goodbye to Inky as she ushered Ace and Deuce up on their feet to clean themselves up and check for scrapes. She did wave back though. They went to Professor Crewel's lab and classroom, setting up the next lesson with the instruction of the teacher. In the midst of this, another student came in.

This girl was pale as can be and her hair was back length and white. She was rather short as well.

"Hello professor Crewel! I'm here to deliver those late project papers you asked me to go get" Her voice rang through the room as she grinned in a friendly way, waving to the first year trio that was setting up.

"Poor guy was really under the weather, caught a stomach bug or something but he'll be fine. He's over the worst of it according to the nurse, he needs a day or two to recover properly."

"Good girl, thank you for informing me. You have a free period now, yes? Why don't you sit in on the first years and help out? I could use a helping hand to whip these bumbling pups into shape and you're on the school's student tutoring program, so you'd be a good fit." Crewel said, to which the pretty student agreed as he explained what they would be doing during the class period.

It gave Inky the ability to look at her a little more closely. She had facial piercings and some on her ears. The ones on her face were a septum and a lip ring as far as Inky could tell. She didn't wear a blazer, had her sleeves rolled up and her purple vest was open. She wore her white blouse tied up in a way that it would expose her stomach, though not in a war that was inappropriate. She wore a shorter skirt variant at her hips that ended above her knees and flip flops as her footwear. It left a lot of questions as to how she wasn't cold. Then again it wasn't too cold, simply chilly.. she dressed like it was summer though. She had jewelry too, a few rings, a choker and a necklace, an anklet, two bracelets and on her other arm she wore her Pomefiore Armband, except she had it tied more around her wrist than anything, like another bracelet.

That lesson was over quickly, and it was fairly nice. Turns out the student's name was Alani and she helped out around the classroom after having changed into appropriate gear. She was a Pomefiore third year apparently and had heard about the prefect from Leona, whom she visited during spelldrive practice after school occasionally so she could exercise with them. She was good at explaining things and this included her clothing. Apparently she was dressed the way she was because it was usually hot or at least warm here compared to her homeland, which was very far up north. In conclusion the lesson was lovely and after all the cleanup the prefect even managed to get Alani's number, for emergencies or if Inky ever really needed or wanted something.

The rest of the school day went off without a hitch as well, only really starting to pick up the pace when ace and Deuce along with grim decided they would contact this 'Rook' character to get an audition appointment.

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