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schmetective · 4 years

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oh to be a teen with paranormal abilities and a very-alive-but-once-dead boyfriend watching the sunrise with all your beloved friends at your side. oh wait.

this was born out of my softness for rex... you’ve gotta love the friends to enemies to lovers trope. besides having helped diego get together with ashley and saving the town via beach party, this is not specific to an mc, so pls enjoy as your character :) <3

i was inspired by @leon-dalton to make something sömft so tyvm :’)

Rex Keller.

It’s the name that followed you around for the worst few months of your life, blaming you for a murder you didn’t commit and reminding you of a friendship you had lost. The death of someone who decided they no longer wanted to be your friend, despite how deeply you still cared about them. The name of a ghost that flipped your world upside down, calling to life a dead past you had tried to escape.

Rex Keller.

It’s also the name of the boy who holds your hand in his, large and smooth and warm. Alive. The name of the boy who tugs you along Main Street towards the shore where the rest of your friends await. The boy who looks over his shoulder at you with excitement curling the corner of his lips.

“You’re walking really slowly for someone who woke me up at five o’clock in the morning to see the sunrise,” he says, slowing down to pace with you nonetheless.

Your heart flutters at this, but you misdirect his perception with a smirk and a roll of your eyes.

But he’s right. The two of you are strolling through a mostly asleep Arbor Isle, the only people awake save for the fishermen and your friends who are lighting up your phone with text messages, wondering where you and Rex are. You’re in no rush.

“I might be regretting that decision,” you say, gesturing to your knitted sweater. Cozy as it is, the holes between the stitches do little to keep you warm. No jacket on an Arbor Isle morning? What is this, amateur hour?

“What, did you just move here or something?” Rex asks, laughing softly around his words. His voice is still groggy from sleep.

Your thoughts are so in sync with his, it’s like the two of you never ceased to be friends after middle school. Moments like these always take you by surprise, even if you spent a lot of your time with Rex after resurrecting him.

“It’s too early to deal with you,” you say, tone gentle and bearing no malice.

“And yet you brought me,” Rex replies, like there’s some modicum of pride to be had in the fact. He lifts up your entwined fingers to support his case.

“I did, didn’t I?” You look away and shake your head as if in regret, but the fact that you don’t bother to let go of his hand tells him all he needs to know.

“We can’t just let you be cold all morning though, can we?” He asks, the not-really-a-question doused in a conspiratory tone.

The two of you are nearing the bay and you can make out the figures of Addy, Anuja, Kiril, Diego, Ashley, and Caleb, all looking to the horizon lined with trees.

He lets go of your hand and for a second you think he’s about to give you his flannel lined with faux sherpa. But then he’s grinning and lifting his hands, and before you can protest, he throws his arms around you. You’re captured in a tight embrace that keeps you in place. A surprised yell makes the figures on the shore turn to you, and you realize that it’s you who made the sounds.

“Rex!” You exclaim, though when he squeezes you, you crumble into laughter.

“C’mon,” you say, trying to untangle yourself from him. All it does is urge him to pull you tighter against him. You’re well aware of your back pressing against his chest. “I don’t wanna miss the sunrise.”

That, and being so close to him has made you warm enough to survive.

“We can move like this!” He protests, causing you to shift so that you can look at him.

Really? Is the sardonic word you don’t need to ask.

He picks it up -- he always does. “Really.”

And before you can ask him how, he begins waddling down the road with you still in his embrace. You move along with him, growing more embarrassed by the second. The sky is also brightening along with you. The sun will rise any moment now.

You’re closer to your friends now. Close enough to see Addy pretend to look as if they’re about to vomit.

Rex stops in front of the group but doesn’t seem like he’s letting go of you anytime soon.

“Hey,” he greets everyone, as if this is a completely normal position to be in.

Caleb breaks into a smile and claps Rex on the shoulder. That look of relief flashes through his eyes like it does whenever he sees Rex. You doubt it’ll stop in the near future, and you don’t really blame him. You’re probably the same.

Despite everything, your friends are still tentative about Rex, and even more so Caleb, who Rex invites to hangouts like this. You get it. It’s hard to get over a friend heartbreak. Even harder when said friend died. But, even if you yourself don’t know it, they know how much you enjoy Rex’s company. They’ll come around.

“‘Sup,” Diego says back, smiling at the two of you.

“Did we miss anything?” You ask, looking around at the group.

It really is like worlds collide, seeing the two groups in one when they wouldn’t hang out together otherwise. Diego dating Ashley and you Rex brought them together in a way that at first wasn’t comfortable for all parties involved, but it was something everyone was warming up to now. Caleb would likely leave once Arbor Isle started to wake up, which shows where he’s at... But he’s here nonetheless. Rex is grateful for his best friend’s effort, as he’s told you a few times before. After all, your best friends were once his too. Time was still doing its work in healing the hurt and easing the tension.

“No, but did we?” Anuja asks with a raised eyebrow and a skeptical look from Rex to you.

“Just got cold,” you and Rex say at the same time.

“Right,” Addy grins with a wiggle of their eyebrows, drawing out the word like they were anything but accepting of the excuse (which, in yours and Rex’s defense, is the whole truth).

“Guys!” Kiril says, and everyone’s attention snaps to him. “The sun!”

And then you’re all looking at the sun as it peaks over the bay, washing the water and trees and the town behind you in its warm glow. The start of a new day.

Rex, his arms still around you, kisses your cheek. “Thank you.”

You reach up and squeeze his forearm. “For what?”

“You. This. Everything.”

You smile, hoping he knows you wanted this all with him to begin with anyway. You’d saved him for yourself as much as you’d done it for him. Not out of guilt, but... something that makes you unable to imagine a future without Rex Keller.

The way he squeezes you once more tells you he knows. That he’s still grateful anyway.

“So!” Ashley says. “Breakfast at the diner?”

She looks to you, asking as if you would have said no.

“Your treat!” Diego punches your arm, though he has to awkwardly look for an angle to do it from because of Rex.

The group begins walking back up to the street and you roll your eyes.

“It always is,” you laugh, hoping Mom is ready for her first customers of the day.

You begin to move to follow them, not even minding that Rex still hadn’t let you go.

But then he does, and he steps in front of you. You look up at him, eyebrows furrowing quizzically.

“You good?” You ask, searching his face. His really, really attractive face. Will you ever get used to it? Probably not.

His eyes roam over your face too, slowly as if he wants to savor every detail. It’s almost uncomfortable, but then he smiles. Charmingly and disarmingly so.

“So good.”

And he kisses you. And you kiss back. And it’s the stuff of dreams, really.

“Hey! You getting us breakfast or a room for yourselves?”

You flip your finger at Addy, arms circling Rex’s waist.

He laughs against your lips at Addy’s words and reluctantly pulls away.

“Shut up,” you tell them as the two of you make your way to join the group.

“I will if you two stop being... like that,” Addy says with a fake shudder, turning away and starting to walk again.

Rex laughs and squeezes your hand.

“Addy won’t ever shut up then.”

#the fog knows your name #tfkyn #hello 911??? yes i'd like to report a stolen heart #i like to make content for nonexistent fandoms rip #rex keller #i'm so sorry @ kiril if i spelled your name wrong ;( been a few weeks since i last played the game #cog #choice of games #a THING #rex keller x reader #also idk why i always imagine walking in the middle of the street instead of the sidewalks in small town games like these #is that just me???#pls don't walk in the middle of the road #writin

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thebeltanequeen · 3 years

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The (Blurred? Nonexistent? Inconsequential?) Line Between Canon and Fanon: An Impromtu Essay by Me

I’m currently have an existential crisis. An absolute, balls to the walls, pull my hair out, stare at the walls wondering what the meaning of existence is, kind of existential crisis. Why, you may ask? Because the older I have gotten, the more Fanfiction I have read. That’s normal. Millions of other people read fanfic like me. Well, in the past few years, I have also realized that the more fanfiction I have read, the less shits I give about the actual canon of the media I love. I care less and less about what “actually” happened, and delve into fanon instead. It’s as if the two have SWITCHED ROLES in my brain. The canon is the lie, and the fanon is the truth. This used to not be the case though, so how did we get here? And why… why is this realization sending me into an absolute spiral of insanity? Why do I feel like I have been sucker punched in the jaw? Let me explain.

I’ve been reading and dabbling in writing my own fanfiction for over twelve years. It used to be an escape, a way to further delve into my latest obsessions and become consumed by them. I have this annoying habit of also picking ships that do NOT become endgame, so I’ve always sought out fanfiction as a balm for my shipper’s soul as well. I still read fanfiction as if my life depends on it… but now it’s at the expense of reading new books. Watching new media. When I do eventually dip my toes into a new fandom, I either reject it quickly or become consumed again and make a grab for fanfiction… but in the past few years, something in not only me, but in fandoms in general has shifted.

The difference between me now, and me back then is this… I used to uphold the canon as sacred. Untouchable. Set in stone. The only credible source for the media I consume. All of the fanfiction I read was just beautiful window dressing. A lovely past time to further increase my dopamine intake.

This is no longer the case.

Now, when I read and write fanfiction, it’s as if it is an act of protest. I am actively seeking to reform the narrative. It’s to “take back” the story, the characters, EVERYTHING, for myself. To make it anew. To make it perfect. I’m not alone either. I see you. I see all of you. Now more than ever, I see more and more of us doing this exact same thing.

THIS is why I am having an existential crisis. I have just realized that I will no longer be content with the canon. Ever. Even the canon of my favorite media. It’s not enough. It’s no longer enough. It won’t ever be enough again. Why? Because there will always be places where the canon is falliable. The authors of the canon, are falliable. As an author myself, this is at once an alarming yet powerful realization.

I went to college for creative writing. At the beginning of my academic career, I thought of fanfiction as a beautiful fairytale world. It was glorious, but it was other. Separate. Not as credible as canon. Had I read fanfiction better than the media it was based on before I entered college? Absolutely, but in my head it still didn’t matter because the canon was the word. The canon was the law. As a writer, I held the power of the author (and by extension the power of myself) as sacred. By the end of college, that began to change.

The more I was taught about writing, the more I came to realize that sometimes, authors are just straight up WRONG. Sometimes, there’s soooooo much potential… AND THEY JUST FUCK IT UP!!!!!!! The bones are incredible, but the canon is weak, the logic is lacking, the story makes no sense, the characters don’t reach their full potential and you know what? I’m tired. I’m tired of it. This is why fanon is canon’s salvation. Fanon makes canon look pathetic. But… if I accept the fanon as the reality, and make the canon the lie, does that still make it fanon? No. I don’t think it does. I think fanon has become something other. Something greater.

I have become disillusion by “published” or “credible” books. 95% of the novels I actually buy at the store today are garbage. Trash. Half written nonsense that only serves the purpose of paying people. I’m TIRED OF IT. I’ve become disillusioned by the “power” of the author. I have become disillusioned by canon. FUCK canon, quite frankly. Rip it apart. Dissect it. Take out it’s beating heart and transplant it into a new body. Give it the soul that the narrative was begging for. REVIVE IT. LET YOUR OWN IMAGINATION MAKE IT ANEW. Characters mean too much to people. Fiction means too much to people. Stories mean too much to people for anything less. Only then will you or I be satisfied.

Now, even an impromptu, unedited, gibberish essay is not complete without examples. I’ll start with one that you probably thought of while reading this. Game of Thrones. I think that two years ago, the ending of the most influential show of the entire decade, is where my subconscious began to shift in this direction. Now, I doubt my opionions about GoT are the same as yours, but you know what? It DOESN’T MATTER because FANON CAN FIX THE CANON. The stories that meant so much to millions can be fixed by accepting the fact that THE CANON ISN’T THE LAW! IT FUCKED UP!!!! CANON DOESN’T DESERVE TO SPEAK ANYMORE!!!! TAKE BACK THE STORY AND TRANSFORM IT INTO A VERSION TRULY WORTHY OF THE GLORIOUS BONES IT HAS!!!!!

We also can’t ignore the role that monetization plays in the media we consume. Why leave our fiction in the hands of just the big names? Why let money dictate what is real and not real? WHY SETTLE FOR MEDIOCRE STORYTELLING JUST BECAUSE IT WAS SOLD TO YOU AND THEREFORE IT’S “LEGIT CANON”??? FANFICTION IS FREE, AND THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PIECES OF WRITING I’VE EVER READ WERE WRITTEN BY FANFIC AUTHORS WHO DID IT FOR THE STORY. WHO DID IT FOR THE ART. WHO ACTUALLY DID IT JUSTICE. FUCK THE CONCEPT OF FANON AND CANON. THE STORY WE WANT IS ALL THAT MATTERS. GET MONEY OUT OF HERE.

Ahem. To avoid going on even more of a tangent, I’ll move on and give the example that triggered my existential crisis in the first place. Sailor Moon. To give some background, Sailor Moon is it for me. I have grown up with it. I’ve watched it my entire life. As a child, I ran around with my toy moon rod and desperately wanted to be Usagi. Ironically, I grew up to be quite a bit like her (but with Rei’s temper admittedly). It is my comfort show, my happiness. It makes me laugh, it makes me cry. I never tire of it. It makes my heart swell. I have never, nor will I ever, love any piece of media the way I love Sailor Moon. Flash forward to today, I watched Sailor Moon Eternal, the two new movie adaptations of the Dream arc in the manga (stick with me non-manga and anime lovers). I liked the films, but I was left with a deep, disatisfied yearning. I want back the feeling of complete bliss I experienced while watching the 90’s anime as a child. The problem with this? I’ll never get it back. I’ve just realized this. I’ll NEVER get it back. Why? Because it’s no longer the perfect version of Sailor Moon that it was to my young eyes. Crystal, while good, is also not the perfected version I seek in my adulthood, and Eternal has not scratched my insatiable itch. I am heartbroken because I’ve realized that Sailor Moon in its perfect form doesn’t exist anymore. If I held any canon sacred, it was this. But the story is flawed. The manga is flawed. The anime is flawed. It’s not infallible, as much as it truly, deeply hurts me to admit to the world and to myself. The only perfect version of Sailor Moon is the one in my heart. It’s the one I choose to piece together for myself with the building blocks that others who came before me have handed over.

Another, more recent example of falliable canon is The Grisha Verse. More specifically, the Shadow and Bone trilogy. I was brought in to the fandom by Ben Barnes’ depthless eyes and magnificent scruff. And you know what? I liked the story, but I stayed for Ben Barnes. I liked the Darkling so much that I bought the entire grisha verse books. It was a premature decision. I’ve only made it halfway through Storm and Seige, and you know what? I’m tired of the canon already. It’s not that great. The bones are there, but it could be SO. MUCH. MORE. I haven’t read the crow books yet, and by all accounts Leigh Bardugo has improved tremendously as a writer. Which incidentally proves my point. Authors are falliable. Ergo, the canon is falliable. I can’t help but think while I read these books, “Damn. I could write this better.” and you know what? I’ve read fanfics that HAVE written it better.

Am I saying this to trash Bardugo? Or even GRRM? (Yes I admit to trashing D&D but that’s beside the point ahem…). NO. I am NOT trashing the writers. I’M A WRITER. I GET IT. YOUR STORY IS YOUR BABY. I G E T I T . But I’ve realized, and what I think future authors will also have to realize, is that fiction doesn’t belong to anyone. As soon as it’s out the door, the fiction no longer belongs to the author. It belongs to us. The people. That’s what is beautiful about fanfiction. It’s not here for the money. It’s not here for the clout. It’s here for the fiction itself. Plain and simple. It belongs to no one and everyone.

In the past, I would have fought this. I would have wanted my work’s canon to be law. To be the word, the truth, the way etc. Now? I can’t be a hypocrite. I can’t be selfish. It isn’t about the author. It’s about the vision. It’s about the story, the narrative, the characters. It’s about art. And sometimes, the authors give birth to the idea (and they deserve credit for that without a doubt), but it’s also true that sometimes, someone else just writes it better. Someone else quite simply saw the vision, the story, the characters, more clearly than the author did. I make this vow now, as an author, to strive for the vision. If someone takes my vision and does it better than me, that only improves my perspective of my own story. It improves the world of fiction as a whole. It makes me better.

So, canon? Fuck the canon. Take back the story. Take back the characters. Take back the art. Fiction is ours. It belongs to us, and we can do with it what we please. Let’s strive for OUR OWN perfected version of the media we love. Canon doesn’t truly exist. The concept of Fanon doesn’t even exist anymore in the way we used to think of it. The author’s version of events is their own Fanon of the story. Canon is meaningless now. There is only the story that you accept in your own mind. There is only the story that I accept in my own mind, no matter how different it is from yours. There is only the art. There is only the limitless potential of countless people’s imaginations. Let’s continue to collaborate and celebrate beautiful stories together, in any conceivable way, over and over and over again, until the end of time.

Fin

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vannahfanfics · 4 years

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All the World’s Sadness

Category: Hurt and Comfort

Fandom: Atlantis- The Lost Empire

Characters: Kida, Milo

Hi, guys! Another piece I worked on for applying to the Shepherd’s Journal Zine that I thought I’d share :) One more to go and I’ll have enough for the application TT.TT

Kida hated the throne room. Kida was the queen of Atlantis; she ought to take honor in the throne that symbolized her royal blood and spiritual purity. The throne room was the culmination of generations of rulers, principles, laws, religion, and dignity; it wasn’t pompous or pretentious, but instead embodied the deep connection to the natural and spiritual worlds vital to the Atlantean culture.

Behind the crescent-shaped, blanket-draped, wooden throne sat a massive stone depiction of an Atlantean soldier. The head had been detached from the body, representing not only the self-sacrifice of defenders of their homeland and the dangers of a violent, militaristic state. Beyond the throne sprawled a still, clear pond smothered in floating lilies and inlaid with the stepping stones that patterned a swirling spiritual symbol. Buried underground lay the cavern where her ancestors had filled Kida to the brim with the power to face the oncoming catastrophe of the erupting volcano. However, now it again remained hidden, contained beneath that quiet little pond. Vegetation sprouted around the room’s edges, filling the air with a freshness, and moss coated the ornate Greek-style columns supporting the roof of the building.

Indeed, by all rights, it was a magnificent and regal throne room… But Kida still hated it, at least on that day- the anniversary of her dear father’s death.

Kida squirmed uncomfortable against the blankets; their once soft, embracing cloth now felt like coarse sandpaper against her bare back, making the skin burn and itch. She tried to keep her twitching writhes to a minimum, not wishing to arouse her husband’s suspicions. Milo sat casually in the newly-constructed twin to the ancient throne, attending to the last remaining bit of subjects who’d come to counsel with the pair of royals.

Kida’s attention had been nonexistent since she had awoken that morning; everyone noticed her lapse in clear guidance and focus, especially Milo. He’d naturally assumed the more dominant role that day, falling seamlessly into the caring and patient benefactor of the common people. One could almost call it an insult, the way he nonchalantly perched on the edge of the throne, elbows resting on his knees in a relaxed posture. Yet, no one would question him for the rapt attention he afforded each and every person, and the understanding smiles that graced his boyish bespectacled face. Despite everything, a small smile appeared on Kida’s lips as she observed him speaking calmly with a disgruntled fisherman who was commissioning for repairs to the docks.

“Your request sounds very reasonable,” Milo announced as he straightened up and rolled his shoulders. “We’ll get right on that. I want a list of contractors drawn up sometime tomorrow, at the earliest available opportunity,” he noted to the royal scribe, who took a record of all the day’s decisions for the appropriate administrative staff to handle later. The fisherman jumped forward to shake Milo’s hand ecstatically, and the brunette just grinned and returned the Atlantean’s zeal with equal fervor. It was magical, how effortlessly Milo had earned the trust and respect of her people. Well, thinking back, perhaps it really wasn’t magical at all.

“Unnnnnnngh!” Milo exclaimed as soon as the fisherman, the last caller of the day, exited the spacious room. The man stretched his arms above his head, prompting a series of pops from his stiff joints. “Whew! What a day,” he sighed and rubbed at the back of his neck. Kida groaned, the ache in her bones and burning skin growing unbearable, and Milo side-eyed her worriedly. “Kida? Are you all right?” The queen refrained from answering in favor of glancing around the room. The staff had slipped into the royal compound’s bowels, leaving the husband and wife to do as they pleased. Now that her royal obligations had reached their limit, Kida eagerly jumped off from the throne, stumbling over her feet in the process and making her ankle bracelets clang together.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! What’s all this?” Milo cried as she angrily ripped the clinging blankets from her person. As he hopped up to grab her lightly by the upper arms, she immediately melted into his lean frame, pouting dourly. Apparently, Milo hadn’t realized what day it was; nonetheless, he enveloped her in a crushing embrace, squishing her body against his. As Kida nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck, Milo pressed his cheek tightly against the side of her head. He then patiently waited for her to voice her melancholy.

“I don’t want to be in here,” she huffed bluntly. She felt Milo’s facial muscles contract as his eyebrows shot up to the roots of his hair. She said that, but now Kida didn’t want to move; comfort and warmth poured off Milo’s form, and she basked in them readily. She drank in his scent like parchment and rain and the faint hint of earth, feeling calm slowly ooze into her being. After a few more minutes, with Milo waiting ever-so-tolerantly, she murmured, “This is the place my father perished. It sickens me.”

Silence descended. Kida’s face contorted slightly in confusion at the lack of Milo’s response, but then she felt the uncomfortable shift of his body. He coughed awkwardly and shifted his shoulders as he played with the dark blue cloth loosely wrapped over his thin frame.

“I, er… Yeah, that’ll do it,” Milo chuckled in discombobulation. Despite herself, a teensy smile curled up the ends of Kida’s lips. Her frazzled husband could be so adorable sometimes. Milo coughed once more as he struggled to compose himself and offer proper consolation. “I, er… Darn it, Milo, you should be ashamed of yourself… O-oh, uh, right, you’re sad, um, and I’m supposed to make you feel better, ummm… I love you?” Kida snorted in laughter and leaned up to look him in the face. His golden-brown eyebrows were tightly knit together above the wireframes of his glasses. Milo stared at her, resembling a puppy puzzled by its owner’s action. Perhaps it wasn’t the most eloquent comfort, but Kida felt reassured nonetheless. She put a hand on Milo’s cheek and kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I love you too, Milo. I feel better.”

“Really?” he blurted, eyes blown wide. Kida chuckled in amusement, her other hand sliding down the length of his arm to link their hands and entwine their fingers. Milo gave her that lopsided smile that sent warm bubbles coursing through her body anytime she was graced with its appearance. Without saying another word, Milo wrapped his free arm around her to pull her in for another soft embrace, peppering kisses into her long, moon-white hair. “I wish he were here,” he admitted against her scalp. “He should’ve been allowed to see what a splendid queen you are…” Kida exhaled deeply and melted languidly against his frame, tracing his star-patterned tattoo’s jagged lines.

“Mhmm… I wish he would have been able to see what a remarkable king you are,” she countered. She couldn’t see Milo’s face, but she could tell he was flushing from the intense spike of heat that rolled off his body in a sudden wave. He began stuttering nervous refusals under his breath, so Kida continued, “You are a wonderful king! My people- our people- respect you immensely.” Her fingers walked a path over his shoulder and up his neck. When she reached his jaw, she flattened her palm against his cheek. She rolled her head over his shoulder to smirk at him, turning his face down to her as she did so. “I certainly could not hope to rule without such a kind and considerate man by my side.”

“Well,” he considered suddenly, rolling his eyes up in pseudo-thoughtfulness. Kida snickered at his abrupt shift to a playful mood. In a second, he grinned widely and dropped down to press a sweet little kiss to the tip of her nose. “I certainly couldn’t hope to rule without such a strong, sophisticated woman by my side,” he contradicted coltishly. His tone was jesting, but seriousness swam in the sparkling pools of his eyes. Smiling lovingly, Kida stroked the contour of his jawline continuously as he gazed adoringly down into her sea-blue eyes. “At any rate, it’s a good thing he can see how well we’re doing, anyway.” It was Kida’s turn to be confused, and she quirked an eyebrow vexedly. Grinning, Milo jabbed his index finger towards the ceiling.

Kida immediately understood.

“Mhmm… Yes, you are right, Milo.” Above the barrier of the worn stone roof, her ancestors’ stone carvings orbited the mighty hidden city. Their mighty visages thrummed with the sparkling energy of life and spirit and magic; Kida knew her father’s soul coursed within those magical veins. She also knew that his wizened old eyes, with sight returned in his eternal afterlife, gazed upon her with all measures of fondness and pride. Kida’s eyes disintegrated the ceiling’s dark surface to envision his stone carving looking down upon her, and she smiled. “Yes, you’re right,” she repeated softly and snuggled into her husband’s body. “I know he can see how beautiful our amazing city has continued to become.”

Sadly, her father was gone, and nothing could ever completely fill the void left behind in Kida’s heart. Still, all was not lost- she had a kingdom that uplifted her, and a loving husband who thought her the world. With so much love and support holding her up, Kida could face all the world’s sadness without question.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#milo x kida #kida x milo #atlantis #atlantis the lost empire #atlantis: the lost empire

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jowritesthingss · 4 years

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A (Demi)Boy and His Demon: One

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): LoSleep (Logic | Logan + Sleep | Remy)

Rating: Teen

Content Warning(s): lots of swearing, religion mention, demons mention, drugs mention (just once in passing), one sex joke (a la Remus)

Length: 2,584 words

Brief Summary: Sleep-deprived writer Remy accidentally summons a serious-and-seriously-fed-up demon named Logan. One. In Which Remy Does Something Even Stupider than Summoning a Demon

Fic Masterlist!

“Hello,” the person standing in front of Remy said, staring disapprovingly down at him through their glasses.

Remy looked the dude up and down once, twice. (‘Dude’? He wasn’t sure if they were a dude so nah, they’ll stick with ‘person’ moving forward.)

The person standing next to his table was a tall, thin brunette, with no-nonsense rectangular glasses and a no-nonsense expression on their face to match. They were admittedly well-equipped in the looks department—that is to say, they were most definitely hot, Remy’s bi little heart skipped a beat—even if their fashion sense was seemingly nonexistent. They had on a plain black collared shirt, jeans, and what looked like a name tag of sorts—so maybe they were a new barista at the café then? Although Emile hadn’t mentioned any new hires.

“Uh. Can I help you?” Remy asked, arching a perfectly-trimmed eyebrow.

“I believe that I should be the one asking that of you,” the person returned, and...were they glaring at Remy? As much as Remy understood the wrath foodservice workers felt towards particularly Karen-like customers, they really didn’t think the current situation warranted it.

“I’m good right now, actually,” Remy dismissed, hoping the weirdo would get the message, “but thanks for asking. I guess.” They looked back down at their writing again, shuffling the paper with the summoning circle to the side and focusing back in on their laptop.

After a few moments of typing, though, Remy became aware of the shadow that still fell over his keyboard. He glanced up to see the person still staring intently at him—only this time they were closer than ever, standing right at his left shoulder.

“Uh, babe.” Remy wasn’t feeling so nice anymore, and they let the irritation seep into their voice. Remy was on a deadline. Remy had no time for nosy strangers. “Ever heard of personal space?”

“No,” the weirdo responded, and Remy honestly couldn’t tell if they were being serious or sarcastic. It seemed they were being serious, though, when their brow wrinkled in confusion. “You are the one who summoned me, are you not?”

“I...don’t think so?” Remy wracked their brain, trying to recall if there was anything he’d done that might make a barista feel obligated to come check on him. Were they really that much of a pathetic gay? Was it really so obvious that he hadn’t slept in like two days and desperately needed yet another refill of iced coffee? “Yeah, like...I really don’t think I did.”

“And yet you are the one with my summoning circle written down,” the person insisted, gesturing down at the sheet of looseleaf paper, and—wait, what?

“I’m sorry, what?” Remy gaped.

Now that they were closer, Remy could read the name tag on the other person’s—no, the demon’s?—chest, which read “Supreme Lord of Dark Knowledge”, with Logan neatly written in parentheses beneath it.

‘Supreme Lord’ Logan picked up the piece of paper that Remy had aimlessly scribbled a summoning circle upon at random, for use as a reference in designing his own. A few faint droplets of his blood were spattered across it from the papercut. They looked Remy in the eye, and it occurred to Remy that the person’s—Logan’s—eyes were oddly maroon and almost glow-y.

“I am a demon,” Logan said, leaning in to Remy, so close they could practically kiss him, “and you are the one who summoned me. So how may I help you? What is your purpose behind summoning me?”

Remy stared.

Logan returned his gaze, obstinately inching yet closer. Eventually they were getting way too much into Remy’s personal space, rude, so he caved and let Logan win the unspoken battle of wills, yanking their head back almost violently.

Remy started to laugh.

“Oh my god,” they said, gasping for breath. “I haven’t reached the hallucination stage of sleep-deprived caffienation this quickly before.”

“—I. Uh. Pardon?” Perhaps realizing just how uncomfortably close the two were, Logan backed up a respectful distance before looking down at him, confused.

“I’ve gotta say, you’re the most realistic hallucination I’ve had since I tried LSD that one time back in high school.” Remy wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. They looked Logan up and down a bit more appreciatively, now that he knew that they were a product of his own imagination. “Damn, my mind knows how to appeal to my...well, everything. You’re pretty hot.”

“It is hot in hell, yes. So naturally my temperature runs higher.” Every time Remy thought it not possible, Logan became even more perplexed. “Excuse me—if I might request clarification for a moment here. You think that I am not real?”

Logan reached out a hand and closed it securely around Remy’s wrist where it lay on the keyboard of his laptop, his hand steadily pressing the “p” button on the forgotten word document that was chapter seventy. “I can assure you that I very much am not a product of your imagination.”

Remy swore.

“What the fuck,” he said, not caring as his voice gradually grew louder, “what the fuck.” They jerked their arm away from Logan, accidentally knocking over his precious iced coffee, and they swore again as they raced to pick up his laptop and his notes to save them from a watery death.

“Bitch,” Remy hissed at the iced coffee that now steadily inched its way across the table. They then looked up at Logan. “You made me spill my coffee,” he accused. “What the hell, man?”

The supposed demon raised an eyebrow, snapping his fingers, and Remy’s coffee slid back into his cup and righted itself again, good as new, what the fuck. “I do believe that we just established that I am in fact a demon and not a man.”

Shit, shit, yeah, right. “All right, then what are your pronouns?” Remy asked. He wanted to rip them to shreds, yeah, but all the better to not misgender them as he did so.

“Gender does not work for demons as it does for humans,” Logan informed him, “however, in your language, xe/xem/xyr pronouns are particularly...satisfactory...for me.”

“Cool.” Remy nodded. “I’m Remy, they/them and he/him.” He paused. “Okay, like, back to business—what the hell?”

“Yes, that is where I come from.” Logan nodded, and was xe serious or was xe patronizing Remy? They were pretty sure xe was patronizing him.

“Okay.” Remy glared up at xem. “Then like...can you go back already?”

Logan let out a long-suffering sigh, pushing xyr glasses up on the bridge of xyr nose. “Tell me what deal you would like to make, and then yes, I will gladly depart from this ridiculous world.”

“I’ll remind you that you’re the one who appeared in this ‘ridiculous world’ out of literal fucking nowhere,” Remy snarked, half under their breath.

“And I shall remind you that you are the one who summoned me,” Logan snapped. Xe scrutinized Remy carefully. “Although I must say, I was not expecting the likes of you to be intelligent enough to summon me at all, much less as unintentionally as it appears to have been.”

“Hey! Watch what you’re sayin—nope, never mind that.” Remy exhaled loudly, exasperated. “Just tell me how to get rid of you already.”

“Very well.” Logan pushed xyr glasses up on the bridge of xyr nose. “It is quite simple, really. In order to break our connection, all you must do is destroy the summoning circle that initially began the connection. In order to do that you must—”

“Oh, really?” Remy relaxed, shoulders lowering slightly. Nice and easy. That was good. “That’s easy.” He grabbed the paper in both hands and started to tear.

“Wait, no! No, not like that, you are going to—” Logan leapt on top of Remy, knocking them and their chair to the ground.

But it was too late. Remy had already ripped the paper—and, consequently, the summoning circle—in half.

A snapping, burning feeling coursed through Remy’s body as he crashed to the ground, hard.

The torn halves of the paper fluttered to the ground around Remy and Logan as they lay on the floor, disoriented, Logan on top of Remy, Logan’s face in Remy’s neck and Remy with their vision impaired by Logan’s hair.

Remy spat out a mouthful of Logan’s hair, shoving xem off of him. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed once more, not unlike a broken record.

“I should be asking the same of you,” Logan spat, straightening xemself up and adjusting xyr glasses, and holy hell, if Remy had thought xe was glaring before, it was about fifty times worse now. “You are supposed to burn the circle and destroy it, you half-wit. By merely breaking the circle as you did you didn’t release me, you bound me to you for life.”

“Well, like, how was I supposed to know that?” Remy shot back through clenched teeth, trying to stave back the anger and panic churning in the pit of his stomach.

“I was just about to tell you that,” Logan seethed, and shitshitshit, abort mission, maybe Remy should back off, maybe angering the supposed demon wasn’t a good idea, xyr eyes were literally shining with literal fire and xyr hair was starting to float up and that couldn’t be good—

“Hey now! What’s going on here?”

Remy and Logan looked up to see Emile standing in front of them, short and chubby and blond and arms crossed and wearing his bright purple apron and scary-calm, which was somehow even more terrifying than the literal demon, even as he was practically an angel (not literally—or at least, Remy didn’t think it was literal—god, please tell them it wasn’t literal).

“Why don’t we take whatever this is to the back?” Emile asked the two of them, only it really wasn’t a question.

Oh, yeah. They were in the middle of a busy coffee shop full of witnesses, weren’t they.

Remy shoved themself to their feet and hastily grabbed his things, while Logan righted the chair xe had knocked over when xe took Remy down. Then, meekly and not unlike scolded children, Remy and Logan followed Emile to the employee break room. And boy, Remy was not looking forward to the conversation that no doubt would ensue.

“...So you’re saying you’re a demon,” Emile said slowly, eyes wide as he stared at Logan.

“Indeed.” Logan waved xyr hand and extinguished the indigo flames that had previously been dancing across xyr palm.

“Ooh ooh ooh! Like Bill Cipher?” Emile asked excitedly.

Remy lowered their face into their hands.

“Like—ah, yes, of course,” responded Logan the actual literal fucking demon, “although I personally prefer to take a more humanesque appearance on the rare occasions that I am summoned. I find it is more calming for the humans that summon me.” Xe tilted xyr head, looking curiously at Emile. “You’ve met Cipher?”

“I—” Emile gasped, eyes practically starry, and hell, could this get any worse for Remy. “He’s real? I knew it!”

The bell jingled back out in the shop, then not two seconds later the employee door swung open, and hell, this could get worse for Remy.

Remus stepped through the door, eyes bright with mischievous delight and clad in a hideous combination of jeans, some obscure band tee, and an honest-to-god camouflage-patterned tutu. “I heard through the grapevine that some major shit is going down.”

Remy glared half-heartedly at Emile. “You did not text him.”

Emile laughed awkwardly, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Babe,” Remy groaned. “You didn’t.”

“He did!” Remus garbled out, grinning wider than the Joker. “So our dear little Remsykins has a boyfriend now?”

“Not a boy,” Logan said, while at the same time, Remy groaned, “Not my boyfriend.”

“Details.” Remus waved Remy off, although he at least had the decency to ask Logan xyr pronouns before opening his mouth to continue harassing the two of them with questions.

Remy held up a hand. “Uh, nope. I’m dealing with enough bullshit right now, babe, and I’m still mad at you for falling so far behind on art. None of your weird questions about, like, fucking demons or eternal torture or whatever, please.��

Remus’ mouth clacked shut loudly, and he looked rather put-off. Then what Remy had said fully sank in. “Wait, demons? As in, demons existing? For reals?”

Remy turned to Logan, despairing, and thankfully xe seemed to get the message, stepping in.

“Indeed they are, as you put it, ‘for reals’,” Logan affirmed. “I’ll give you...ah, I believe humans still say the ‘Spark Notes’ version of our present circumstance. In researching for their comic, Remy inadvertently copied down my summoning circle. When he got a paper-cut, blood got onto the circle, and he spoke the incantation—” Logan turned to look at Remy, “—which, by the way how on earth did you manage to accidentally say the summoning incantation?”

“I didn’t,” Remy said, furrowing his eyebrows.

“Did you say anything at all?” Logan asked.

Remy thought back. “Uh, I think I said...‘goddammit’?”

“Ah.” Logan blinked. “Yes, well, that isn’t the traditional incantation, but...it suffices.”

Remy threw up their hands, walking away from Logan, Remus, and Emile and glaring mightily at the overly cheery coffee-themed wallpaper. “What the fuck,” he said to no one in particular for the umpteenth time. It was rapidly becoming his favorite phrase.

“Incantations aside, I was summoned,” Logan continued, as if xe had never been interrupted in the first place, “whereupon your friend panicked and accidentally bound me to them for the rest of their life.”

Remus cackled, delighted. “Damn, Remsykinsies, haven’t you gotten yourself into a mess!”

“I don’t. Want. To think about it,” Remy seethed, turning back around to face him and the others again. “I’d much rather we focus on how you should really be leaving to go finish up chapter sixty-five already, thank you very much.”

“Like I’d miss out on watching you humiliate yourself?” Remus was getting the last of the giggles out of his system. “Fat chance.” He swiped a tear of mirth out of the corner of his eye before he continued to speak. “Anyhow, so you’re telling me that demons actually exist in this world, and I’m not one of them?” he asked, his tone mildly indignant. “Rude.”

“And thank god for that,” Remy muttered under their breath, collapsing onto the overstuffed pink couch in the break room. Even if Logan didn’t kill them and steal their soul or some shit, Remus simply being Remus was about to do him in. “The moment you become a demon is the moment the world burns.”

“Exactly!” Remus grinned at him, and how did his teeth look sharper than that of the actual demon in the room? Maybe Remus really wasn’t human after all.

“Eh, whatever! Moving on!” Remus rounded on Logan, expression alight with all the fires of hell, and Remy was really having a difficult time remembering who, exactly, the demon was in this scenario. “I just want to know—are you a demon in the sheets?”

Remy lowered his head into his arms and screamed.

(That night, as Remy and Logan awkwardly lay on opposing sides of Remy’s bed, resolutely refusing to face each other, Logan would ask how on earth could it be possible for xem to not be a demon in the sheets, as xe is a demon everywhere xe goes, and Remy would fall off the bed.)

Prologue || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

Chapter two should be up either Friday or Saturday, and if not then def by next Wednesday. Also btw if you haven’t figured it out by now, Remy’s a demiboy who uses he/they pronouns in this, and Logan uses xe/xem/xyr, although as a demon human concepts of gender don’t really apply. ^^

Want to be added onto any of my taglists? Shoot me an ask or a message here or via my other social media!

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angeldormante · 7 years

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hello y’all, i’m sick af so don’t expect finesse and expert articulation, but i’m here today to drop my beef on the ever-simmering Totty Discourse, a.k.a. why are we pissing all over the pink satanic bean pretending he’s worse than ichimatsu or some shit because he ain’t

fandom wants to say totty is fake? well, he is. the shallow fuckboy he portrays himself as is 100% fake and in reality he loves the disgusting family he hates. see for yourselves my guys.

starting simple, that one time the boys had to compete for their mom’s love. oh yes that is def the face and hi5 of a man who totally hates his brother and is dEVESTATED he has to live with him.

when the cat fucker was mean to esp, totty was on that kitty search party ALL DAY. all day with the rest of the brothers. not off fucking around with his social life, he was busy giving a shit about his niisan and that cat. (not pictured: totty suggesting going to their friends for help about 3 seconds before this. he wasn’t just going along he was making An Effort)

speaking of giving shits about his niisans, how about the fact that not only was todomatsu 100% supportive of jyushi in his relationship with homerun girl...

....but he was also THE LITERAL FIRST ONE to gently ask jyushi to open up about her when he was rejected. not oso, not ichi, it was ding dang totty. a todomatsu who watched his brother’s heart get crushed in and miss me with a strikeout if you look at this scene and tell me totty doesn’t care about his brothers. i thank sue content for my life.

he also took actual offense when oso and ichi called him a heartless monster who “wouldn’t notice if one of them disappeared”. i love “dry monster” totty as much as the next, but in realtalk, someone who genuinely didn’t give a shit wouldn’t react like this.

on that topic, you realize the rest of the brothers actually dump on totty like all the time? it’s all in good bickering but the road goes both ways. there was a whole segment in ep 13 where the others just avoided him and laughed at the “totty shouldn’t exist” theory, but also, this shot took place like 10 seconds later. the sextuplets hassle each other and then they make up because they actually do get along in the end, that’s how it goes.

cried actual tears when choromatsu left. literally what would he have to gain by faking this? nothing. this is just a boy who is going to miss his brother.

also from ep 24. oh yes that is definitely the face of someone who is mcdonald’s lovin’ it being free of his horrible family whom he hates and despises and is overjoyed to get away from forever

party bob ross literally says it in this episode. “you treat your older brothers like trash, but deep down you’re just trying to be nice.” hell, totty literally says it in this episode, he ditches them so often because it’s his dream to rise up the social ladder as a family, but he feels like the only chance of that happening is if he does it first and then uses his connections to help the others later. it’s a shitty dream tbh but this boy is trying.

by the way did you know that the youngest is also pretty quick to come to his brothers’ defense?

took the lead in karamatsu’s intervention for that toxic flower fairy, zaimoku is good

HE IS THE ONE WHO SMACKED THE SHXT OUT OF OSO WHEN THE RED FUCKBOY REFUSED TO SAY GOODBYE TO CHORO. TOTTY WASN’T HAVING THAT UNSUPPORTIVE SOKUDO SHIT. GOOD CYBER AND GOOD TOTTY HELLO??

like all jokes aside i think this might be the most important thing on this list. todomatsu had legit nothing to gain from walloping oso like that except a black eye, and he knew it. the only feasible reason he’d do it was to knock some sense into oso for being an unsympathetic ass. how much clearer can this boy’s Caring with all his nonexistent little heart be??

was super quick (alongside the others) to tell ichimatsu that he didn’t have to try and socialize on their level because of how anxious and uncomfortable he gets when pushed into those situations. todomatsu knows his brothers and pays attention to their weaknesses. he could have easily mocked ichi or scoffed at him and let him go embarrass himself, but he absolutely did not do that. he jumped to protec that fragile cat heart. good 110.

committed social fucking suicide in front of two pretty girls for his shitbag oldest brother who was being a sexist sauerkraut, ending up making oso sOMEhOW look less like the heel.

i know this, and i love you.

BUT HEY GUESS WHAT 2 EPISODES LATER

THE BENI IS ALIVE AND WELL because... maybe... totty loves his brothers? yes that’s exactly why.

lmfao poor otouto, they tried so fuckin hard for choro and yet got top 10 anime betrayed in the end

but also

todomatsu was the first one to accept the fuckin fall for his lying ass. totty just lied down and took it. if i’m speculating, it’s precisely because he is the most socially aware matsu, and he’s realized that the truth will hurt choromatsu’s image and self confidence not only among his brothers, but with totoko as well. it would be easier on the frog if they just went along with the prank thing; otouto take the blame for a shitty thing that won’t hurt them in the long run bc they apologized, and choro keeps a shred of dignity left. glowstick bitch.

in conclusion, totty isn’t even my favorite matsu but he is still a good as heck boy and i’m tired of seeing claims that he’s more fake or evil than the rest of them. they are all terrible but imo totty’s good qualities shine just as easily as the others, and i hate the fact that he’s icly shat on at least as much as kara but doesn’t get love from the fandom just bc he refuses to lie down and take it as often. i love totty.

pictured: a boy who clearly hates everyone at this bar. oh no, disgusting brothers. how he despises their presence. rip.

#osomatsu san #todomatsu #todomatsu matsuno #totty #totty defense squad #meta #i am the salt and sick #long post #hE is A GOOD BOy #ososan #edit: i went back and touched up a few areas now that i'm more alive

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quousque · 6 years

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11 Tag

(Rules: Answer eleven questions, make eleven questions and tag eleven people)

Thanks @forgetting-how-to-breathe for tagging me!

What’s your favourite genre of music?

I like a lot of stuff, tbh, but my favorite is stuff I can sing along to. I listen to a lot of classic rock (first radio station I found when I moved to Missoula and I never changed it), and old country music (Kingston Trio, thanks mom)

What’s your favourite kind of book to read? (This doesn’t have to be restricted to genre answers)

I read a lot of fantasy books, but lately I’ve been gravitating towards informative nonfiction, like books on Roman/Greek history and culture, or books about specific topics (e.g. history of spinning, weaving, and fiber crafts).

Do you prefer TV series or films?

Series, because there’s so much more material for the fandom to work with, so there’s usually a greater variety and abundance of ships, headcanons, etc. And the fandoms stay more active for longer, because of the extended release of content.

Do you have a favourite place?

Interlochen, Michigan would have to be high up there. My grandparents have a cottage on a lake and my family visited every summer when I was a kid.

Do you have a fairly set day to day routine or do you fly be the seat of your pants?

A mix of both. I have a set routine for getting ready in the morning, and a set routine for getting ready for the next day (if I don’t pack everything I need for the next day the night before, I am 100% guaranteed to forget something AND be late). My going to bed routine is a mess, but better than it was. If one tiny thing in the sleep routine goes wrong, all of my routines fall apart and it takes weeks to put it back together. So I work really hard to safeguard my routines, but I end up flying by the seat of my pants a lot anyway.

What’s one thing you wish you could change? (About yourself, the world, the universe, whatever)

I would want to not have ADHD. If someone offered to snap their fingers and cure it instantly, literally reform my brain so it worked properly, I would say yes with no hesitation. It’s a debilitating disability that affects literally every aspect of my life, and is indirectly responsible for a lot of emotional and physical pain.

How would you describe your sense of style?

mix of form-fitting (ish) athletic wear because I do some form of sports 6 days a week, graphic tshirts from when I was dressing exclusively in loose, baggy men’s clothing, and beginning to branch out into more standard women’s clothes (for instance, I own one (1) pair of jeans. Sure they’re men’s skinny jeans, but they fit me better than any women’s jeans I’ve ever worn). The unifying factor is that everything I wear has POCKETS.

How would you describe the aesthetic of your living space? Is it different or the same from your goal aesthetic?

nonexistent, as I’m between places currently. But judging by my last place, the aesthetic is Workbench in the Corner, Knick-knacks on the Shelves, Lots of Stuff, and also Where is the Floor, Why is your Room Carpeted in Clothes and Piles of Paper?. I’ve been working really hard on not having a constant mess, and though no one would call me neat, I’ve improved a lot. Hopefully one day I’ll have a lot less stuff (keeping the knick-knacks tho), and I won’t leave a whole bunch of shit on the floor all the time.

Do you have any odd hobbies or skills? (Odd here can be defined in a broad sense, or in a “I’m the only one of my friends that knows how to__” kind of way)

I’m a fencer, which isn’t too common. I also like to construct costumes, but, like, out of random shit I find lying around and almost always last-minute. Last-minute costuming on the cheap is my jam. I’m also into storytelling, LARP/roleplaying (improv acting, even though I’ve never actually taken an improv class), and solving random problems by building something. I often see something and think “I could do that better” or “No one does this in a way that’s perfect for me, so I guess I will”. Thus, I’ve made my own shoes, sports bras, fencing chest protector, fencing test box socket adaptor, extra tall workbench so I can stand while I work, etc.

What is your dream job?

Maybe a therapist? Or an ADHD coach. Something that involves helping people, in a teaching kind of way, but where I’m providing the environment and coaching for them to figure it out themselves. I want to help people non-neurotypical people who struggle with things that other people don’t struggle with, because I know that struggle, I know how hard it is. And I’m pretty good at listening to people and making them feel understood, which is a skill I’d like to build on. I also want a job where I can set my own schedule, take large chunks of time off, leaves room for lots of hobbies, pays well enough, and is engaging so that there’s always a new problem to solve, but not so demanding that I end up dedicating all my time and energy to it.

Another dream job would be designing gear- for fencing, hiking/backpacking, travel, etc.

What would your dream home look like?

Small and easy to maintain, with a small work out area and a large workshop. Far away from traffic noise, with a nice view and a nice yard. Preferably next to open space. Walking distance from grocery stores, job, most places I’d need to go. Not more than 20 minute drive away from friends, work, etc. Any color except beige.

I’m tagging @olofahere , @terpsikeraunos , @persian-slipper , @freeformtarsier , @bee-fabulous , @punk-lucifer , @oddchelonian , @lost-in-pink , @shadowmaat, @aethersea , and @anexperimentallife !

Questions for y’all to answer:

1. Would you rather have ripped arms, or really jacked legs? Why?

2. If you could instantly become pretty good (like, won state high school championships good, not olympic good) at any sport or other activity, what would you choose?

3. Ideal living situation, in terms of people you’re living with. Alone? Nuclear family? Just significant other? Roommates? Platonic life partners? Three generations of family? Polycule? You and 500 cats?

4. If you could change one thing about your town/city/place of habitation, what would you change?

5. If your current country of residence were to decide to move its capitol, where do you think they should put it, and why?

6. What thing have you done this past week that you are most proud of?

7. What was the most confusing, perplexing, or befuddling thing that happened to you in the past week?

8. What are you most looking forward to in the coming week?

9. If you are in any fandoms, what is the fandom you are currently most active in? What do you like best about it? What would you change?

10. stupidest reason you’ve ever decided you like something?

11. A unicorn bewitches you such that every time you hear someone snap their fingers, you turn into a certain animal (and back when you hear another snap). What animal would you choose to turn into?

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zillion-ronald-manus · 7 years

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im out of meme ideas for now so i’m just going to copy&paste the Omniversal Battle Wiki page for Luka from Monster Girl Quest

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Luka (MGQ)

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Nephillim

Summary

Luka is a 15 year old boy, born with the blood of fallen angels in his veins. He's just an innocent, naive little boy, precious as can be, who dreams of a day when monsters and humans would coexist peacefully instead of all the opression that's widespread across the world. His mom, Lucifina, died from an epidemic when he was younger, so he's been living by himself at a young age. One day, ilias calls out to him in a vision and tells him to go and defeat the current monster lord, the latest in a long line of powerful yoma that traces back to the dark goddess herself. But since he's naive he decides to get baptized and do it, regardless of the fact that he'd probably die in an instant. He's walking back to his house one day, when he meets a strange yoma named Alice. He's forced to choose between helping her or going to his baptism, and of course he chooses to help. He befriends Alice and travels the world with her in his quest to defeat the monster lord and end racism.

Along the course of his quest, he goes from being a naive little boy with big dreams to a tougher-than-nails motherfucker who splits heaven and earth to bring a star down to hell just so he can counterattack someone, not to mention he single-handedly ends wars by defeating both armies himself.

Powers and Stats

Tier: At least High 2-A | Low 1-C | 1-C, possibly higher

Name: Luka, Fallen Angel, Corrupted hero, Son of Lucifina

Origin: Monster Girl Quest

Gender: Male

Age: 15

Classification: Human/Angel hybrid

Powers and Abilities: Superhuman physical characteristics, Space manipulation, Dimensional manipulation, Time manipulation, Soul manipulation, Acasuality, Weakness alteration, Sealing, Healing, Elemental manipulation, Matter manipulation, Death manipulation, Existence erasure resistance, Conceptual manipulation resistance, Matter manipulation resistance, Death manipulation resistance, Light manipulation, Darkness manipulation.

Attack Potency: High Multiverse Level+ (Defeated beings like Goddess Ilias and Adramelech, the former is the embodiment of perfect nonexistence on at the very least a 5D scale, while the latter can erase Multiversal SpaceTime on a near-conceptual level by existing) | Complex Multiverse Level (freely moved around within an isolated area of the multiverse, which was beyond even Goddess Ilias' perception. Completely unfazed, physically speaking, when Sonya Chaos warped reality using the Chaos, a phenomenon infinitely beyond a normal multiverse and which exists inside and outside of all multiverses as the antonym to all existence. Also unfazed when Adramelech at her full power manipulates the same phenomenon into outright destroying a universal section of existence itself. Spoke face-to-face with the overseer of countless 5D multiverses, and was able to defeat her when she was holding back. Defeated every one of Sonya's forms. Likely comparable to the seraphs.) possibly Higher (the MGQ verse follows quantum mechanics and wave functions, which opens the door towards possibly 11 dimensions, or, if we go farther to the extreme, infinite dimensions via hilbert space.)

Speed: Immeasurable (Could freely exist within, run around in, think within and even dodge light within places where conventional spacetime didn't exist, many times, and can speedblitz people who can do the same. Accessed a future point in another timeline by physically walking.)

Lifting Strength: Mountain Level (Escaped the grasp of a mountain-sized monster), probably higher (He's gotten much stronger since then.)| Immeasurable By nature of being a higher dimensional being.

Striking Strength: High Multiverse Level+ | Complex Multiverse level, possibly higher

Durability: High Multiverse Level+ (Traded blows with Adramelech and Goddess Ilias, is capable of defeating and tanking blows from the seraphs and the Lilith sisters.) | Complex Multiverse Level

Stamina: Very high (Able to climb entire mountains in little time, can fuck grills for days or even months straight, seldom even needing water.) | Immeasurable by nature of being a higher dimensional being.

Range: Possibly Universal (Caused an endlessly expanding being who could devour the entire universe if left unchecked to dissolve into a shapeless blob of flesh.)

Standard Equipment: The Angel halo, a baleful sword created by Heinrich by melting 666 angels alive and fusing them onto a sword. Can either kill, or seal when the enemy is weak enough, whichever the user may wish.

Intelligence: Genius (his mathematical knowledge impressed Promestein, who single-handedly discovered every field of modern science, including physics and quantum physics, with only rocks in a cave.)

Weaknesses: Becomes weak and bitch-like for about a day every time he cums.

Feats:

Is capable of effortlessly defeating Apoptosis, beings created from spacetime itself ripping itself apart and putting itself back together.

Can easily exist, move within, think, run laps within and dodge shit within places where conventional spacetime is destroyed as well as places that transcend spacetime.

Can effortlessly breach and move through inter-dimensional barriers.

Can easily move himself and others to and from isolated areas of spacetime (Pocket dimensions) as well as entirely separate timelines.

Traded blows with Adramelech, Sonya Chaos, and Tamamo, one of the six ancestors in her prime. All of them should be metaversal one way or another.

Able to seal and touch non-corporeal beings like angels.

Can heal himself both mentally and physically simply by focusing his mind.

Can imbue his blade with healing properties, which allows him to heal allies.

With holy energy-based attacks, he is capable of dissolving an opponent's physical body into light and sending their soul to heaven, the latter probably has something to do with soul manipulation and sealing.

Can transform enemies' bodies into stone statues with attacks that inflict petrification.

Can instantaneously end an opponent's life with most darkness-imbued attacks.

Can alter his enemies' weaknesses with taoism skills, which cause enemies to gain a heightened vulnerability to a specific element.

One-shot an AP-ignoring barrier while still in a relatively early and weak stage of the game.

Can hit and kill non-corporeal beings.

Notable Attacks/Techniques:

Daystar: A counter-attack which he performs when the enemy attempts to attack. Hits extremely hard. Later upgrades this to Infallible daystar, which is even more powerful.

Ninefold Rakshasa: A flurry of 9 sword strikes which only seraphim-level angels can use. Described as "near infinite" in-game, but it only hits 9 times. Upgrades this attack to Ninefold Rakasha: Asura, which basically just does more damage, and can thus be assumed is stronger than the original.

Fallen Angel Dance: Allows him to perfectly dodge most attacks, even those that are thrown at him by a being with immeasurable speed. His attacks also never miss and hit twice.

Heavenly Demon Revival: A concentration of Luka's power which deals massive damage. Later upgrades this attack to Heavenly demon revival: Gaia, which makes it even stronger.

Flash Kill: Splits the very fabric of space and time and can destroy even things that have AP-ignoring hax. Upgrades this attack to Flash kill: Destructive wind, which boosts it's strength massively.

Element Spica: A skill which deals horrendously massive damage, but costs a lot of stamina to perform. Imbued with the power of all 4 elemental spirits, who embody the universal concepts of their respective elements.

Quadruple Giga: Luka's strongest skill and a toned up version of element spica. If activated while the 4 spirits are in effect, it's power increases 10,000 fold. "The power of this skill is amplified by each spirit imbued in it. But if all four were at a power of ten, it wouldn’t be ten times four for forty... It would be ten to the fourth power for 10,000..."- Alipheese the 16th.

Note: By nature of being an angel, logic would imply that he also has Mid-Godly regeneration and types 1, 4 and 8 of immortality, but gameplay and the general story appears to contradict it. Could it be something to do with him being only a half-angel?