#it took several days to choose the relevant bits and pieces

[breakingthedisneyspell]

So, anything on the coding within the general aesthetic of cartoon design? The article on Aladdin mentioned how him and Jasmine had more eurocentric features but I'm sure there are far more examples with the Disney style.

Thank you for sending this in!

I am slightly confused about what you are asking. Is it about racial coding in Disney (which is too wide a topic)? About specific characters like Jasmine? About specific character types like heroines & villains? So do not hesitate to get back to me.

I stuck with the characters I was most familiar with.

In general, the heroes & heroines of color are more conventionally attractive with Eurocentric features whereas the rest of their communities, including the villain, are racialised through their appearance (darker skin tones, exaggerated features, facial hair etc) and accents. 

                                                             xxxx

“It is painfully obvious that the protagonists – Jasmine, Aladdin, and the Genie – are not. Their features are decidedly white/ European. The others have large noses, sinister eyes, and violence on the mind. Aladdin and Jasmine have none of these. They are dark-haired Ken and Barbie”

Staninger, Christiane. “Chapter 5: Disney’s Magic Carpet Ride: Aladdin and Women in Islam.” The emperor’s old groove: decolonizing Disney’s MagicKingdom. Ed. Brenda Ayres. New York: Peter Lang Pub Incorporated, 2003. pp. 65-77.

Aladdin modeled after Tom Cruise and M.C Hammer: By sexualizing the Aladdin character and transferring the despicable qualities of the magician to the villain Jafar, the stage was set for a plot which offered something for everyone: a sexy hero with a love interest and a Machiavellian miscreant who combined the worst straits of two real-life Arabs: the Ayatollah Khomeini and Saddam Hussein 

Although Disney went so far as to tinge the skin tones of Aladdin and Jasmine with a lighter ocher, it deepened the shade of Jafar’s skin. Likewise, it distinguished between the “good” characters and the “bad” by giving the former American accents and the latter clipped British or vaguely foreign intonations.

All the bad guys have beards and large, bulbous noses, sinister eyes and heavy accents, and they’re wielding swords constantly. Aladdin doesn’t have a big nose; he has a small nose. He doesn’t have a beard or a turban. He doesn’t have an accent. What makes him nice is they’ve given him this American character. They’ve done everything but put him into a suit and a tie (Washington post, 10/01/93, Yousef Salem) 

Jafar, like Hussein, is mustachioed, dark skinned, turbaned and robed silhouette from the Khomeini and “the fictional villain is a devious plotter and untrustworthy ally who pretends loyalty to his benevolent master while scheming to seize his possessions. It was this personification of Hussein-the-betrayer that was beamed from satellite dishes around the world in 1990-91 

Macleod, Dianne Sachko. “Chapter 13: The Politics of Vision: Disney, Aladdin, and the Gulf War.” The emperor’s old groove: decolonizing Disney’s Magic Kingdom. Ed. Brenda Ayres. New York: Peter Lang Pub Incorporated, 2003. pp.179-192. 

The Arab woman is often represented as light-skinned and in various states of undress while men are dark-skinned and viciously violent in works such as The Death of Sardanapalus by Delacroix and The Turkish Bath by Ingres. 

Jafar is coded as “Arabic” with darker skin, a crooked nose and slimy mannerisms while Jasmine is more Americanized while still clearly remaining Agrabian (Booker 55). She has an American accent and yearns for true love and freedom from an oppressive regime while being disconnected from her faith: she is made palatable and relatable to Western audiences (Nadel 191). Jasmine belongs to and is disengaged from a land overrun by polygamy, harem girls and belly dancers.

Yours truly, The sexualization of women of color in WaltDisney’s Aladdin, Pocahontas and The Hunchback of Notre-Dame

Another example is Pocahontas, who stands out from her community with her looks and sexualisation.

film’s supervising animator Glen Keane was told “to make [Pocahontas] the finest creature the human race has to offer” (Kim 24). 

All her features, including her arresting physique, are derived from Keane “concoct[ing] a heroine that John Smith, or any man, animated or otherwise, might love” (“The Making of Pocahontas”). Her body is an amalgamation of features cherry-picked from different ethnic groups to form the ultimate human being. Keane drew inspiration from “Irene Bedard, the American Indian actor who provides Pocahontas’s voice, American Indian consultant to the film Shirley “Little Dove” Custalow McGowan, Filipino model Dyna Taylor, black supermodel Naomi Campbell, and white supermodels Kate Moss and Christy Turlington” (Edgerton & Jackson 95). 

WDC’s Pocahontas was thus given high cheekbones, full lips, feline eyes, a sensuous gait and an erotic body. Her body did not go unnoticed: she was described as a “babe” ” by John Smith’s voice actor Mel Gibson (Sardar17), “lusciously sexual” (Rudnick 67) and an “animated Playboy playmate”(Sharkey 1). Pocahontas needed to be otherworldly to logically captivate the audience and John Smith. Her extreme beautification arguably counterbalances her ethnicity (Buscombe 35). The latter seems to be considered a visual drawback that has to be compensated with increased sex appeal.

Me, The sexualization of women of color in Walt Disney’s Aladdin, Pocahontas and The Hunchback of Notre-Dame

Pocahontas is “an anachronistic image composed of “aesthetically-pleasing” body parts drawn from American Indian, African American, Asian American, and Caucasian models”

Jeffrey Katzenberg charged Keane with creating a Pocahontas that would be “the finest creature the human race has to offer” (qtd. in Kim 23)”. Disney’s Pocahontas is not American Indian; she is a member of the more universal “human race.”Her long, angular facial structure, pert nose, almond-shaped eyes, and flowing waist-length hair – which constantly billows around her and is parted on one side with an artful supermodel flip – differentiate her from the other American Indian women in the film, who are pictured with larger eyes and noses, more rounded faces, their hair either in bangs or long and parted in the middle.

Indeed, in making what has been trumpeted as their first multiethnic heroine, Disney, as I will argue in the final section of this essay, collapses all non-white ethnicities onto her body in order to make her a spokesmodel for a reductive version of multiculturalism, one in which the visual marker of brownness stands in for cultural diversity.

Strikingly, in addition to screening footage of supermodels, Keane went to books on classical Western beauty so that he could “concoct a heroine that John Smith, or any man, animated or otherwise, might love” (qtd. in Making). This comment suggests, from the point of view of the Anglicized male gaze, that Pocahontas’s beauty must overcome her race – her status as a “savage,” as a racial Other.

Pocahontas’s first scene of its heroine is a highly eroticized one. As shematerializes through the mist of the waterfall, the film’s action halts as the camera gazes, simulating what Mary Louise Pratt has theorized as the imperialor pale male gaze. With her long black hair swirling behind her, her Indianprincess costume cut high in the thigh, hanging from one shoulder, and hervoluptuous figure, Pocahontas stands as a icon of Western standards ofexoticized female beauty. As Gertrude Custalow, a member of the Powhatan tribe, noted in a 1995 interview about the film, “The real Pocahontas was achild, not a voluptuous woman. And one thing’s for sure – she didn’t own anuplift bra” (qtd. in Tillotson C8). Her body signifies as a racialized sexualobject on the screen, a “brown-skinned Barbie doll,” a multiethnic, to use Mel Gibson’s term, “babe” (qtd. in Tillotson C8).

Edwards, Leigh H.“The United Colors of ‘Pocahontas’: Synthetic Miscegenation and Disney’sMulticulturalism.” Narrative, vol. 7, no. 2, 1999, pp. 147–168. JSTOR.

The film eroticizes and fetishizes Pocahontas. She is an exotic creature capable of jumping off three hundred foot waterfalls, of conjuring up magical winds thatgive humans the ability to fly, and of painting “will all the colors of the wind.” Disney constructs Pocahontas as a mystical, mist-shrouded object of desire for the heterosexual white colonizer Smith. The film endows her female body with the largest chest, the smallest feet and waist, the biggest almond-shaped eyes, and the longest hair of any character in the movie. Colonial narrative logic dictates that colonizers must protect women from barbaric men; thus, the discourse objectifies women in the name of genocide.

Buescher, Derek T., and Kent A. Ono. “Civilized colonialism: Pocahontas as neocolonial rhetoric.” Women’s Studies in Communication, vol.19, no. 2, 1996, pp.  127-153. 

Esmeralda, where she is dark-skinned but again is exponentially more attractive than her community. 

The Disney film shows a sexually appealing Esmeralda as well, despite its family-friendly target audience. Others have noted the increased sexualization and exoticization of Disney heroines, particularly of ethnic female characters, and culmination with Esmeralda. Her dress in the Disney cartoon has been called “the epitome of the exotic/sexual” and suggestive of her ethnicity. Her flirty dancing concludes with spinning around a pole, a daring move for Disney and a most explicit sexual reprtation. The heroine is also a clear object of the male gaze (Frollo’s, Phoebus’, Quasimodo’s) as suggested by intentional shots and acting techniques.

Schneeweis, Adina. “The bohemian Gypsy, another body to sell: Deciphering Esmeralda in popular culture.” Heroines of Comic Books and Literature: Portrayals in popular culture. Eds. Maja Bajac-Carter, Norma Jones & Bob Batchelor. Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield, 2014.

The costuming in The Hunchback of Notre Dame offers what may be the epitome of the exotic/sexual. Esmeralda, the gypsy dancer, is also attired in dresses that reflect a stereotype of her ethnic background. These costumes, like those of her two predecessors, bare her shoulders. Hers, however, also offers a plunging bust line that emphasizes the cleavage. Additionally, her dance costume is drawn with a skin-tight look that reveals the “cut” of her abdomen and her tiny waist.

Lacroix, Celeste. “Images of animated others: The orientalization of Disney’s cartoon heroines from The Little Mermaid to The Hunchback of Notre Dame.” Popular Communication 2.4 (2004). pp. 213-229.

WDC’s Esmeralda is modeled after the romantic Bohemian. She is the only Romani inhabited by beauty, grace and sex appeal as the rest of her community are caricatured as “lazy, belligerent, vulgar, unwashed, and criminal” (Oprea 15). All the other Romani characters, including women, are unattractive with beaky noses, beady eyes, and unkempt bodies.

Me, The sexualization of women of color in Walt Disney’s Aladdin, Pocahontas and The Hunchback of Notre-Dame

[whack-ed]

Never (Draco Malfoy x Reader)

Synopsis: Y/N and Draco had a fight, and after so much time together, do they split up? Could it end like this? It is not in the personality of either to give up that easly.

Warnings: angsty; bad language; flyffy ending.

Reader: Female

Word count: 2.5k

A/N: That was an anonymous request, so that’s it, I hope you like it!

Taglist:  @nebulablakemurphy​ @jamilelucato​  let me know if you want me to add you in my taglist ;)

Everyone at Hogwarts knew who Draco and Y/N were. Perhaps the most powerful couple in that school. The two commanded and disbanded in Slytherin. There was no student who was not even a little uncomfortable around them. But most preferred the two together rather than apart. Y/N could be very proud when something - or someone - inflicted her ego. Draco then, could be worse, he was never wrong. So knowing how the two would become more unbearable if they ever broke up, they preferred to put up with the green-colored monarchy they imposed on their house.

But unfortunately, for the bad luck of many, the worst happened. After being together since their fourth year, Y/N and Draco had broken up. Or is that what everyone thought. It was close to Christmas when it happened, thankfully, but It still had another month of real hell at Hogwarts. The ending was not even for such a relevant reason, but it seems that none of the two would take of your high heels to understand the other side.

“Look how ridiculous, I would be ashamed of being a hufflepuff and still be forced to wear a hair like that” Draco said as he passed a first year in the yellow uniform. Y/N who was on his side, looked at him madly. She never understood why Draco was so mean to others.

“Why do you do that, huh, Draco? The boy was doing nothing! You don’t have to be an asshole with everyone.” Y/N said with small signs of anger in hers speech. Draco stopped walking and looked at his girlfriend indignantly.

“Are you defending a hufflepuff, Y/N? What a pathetic thing.” He didn’t laugh like he did at the end of one of his sarcastic comments, since after all, this time he was talking very seriously.

“Hello? Pathetic?! Draco the boy was at most 12 years old! The school can already be difficult enough without a git filling the patience all the time!” People around there already beginning to look at the couple’s fight. Some frightened others curious, but no one threatened to get too close to angry Slytherins.

"Impressive. I didn’t know you liked people like that.” Draco made the best reproach face he could and looked Y/N in disgust. The girl’s blood boiled. Who does he think he was to be able to talk to her like that?!

“I thought you could have matured a little since your second year! But it looks like I was wrong. I always thought the way you implied with Potter was ridiculous, but I thought you could change, right, 16 years old Draco, you don’t need that anymore, right?” And Y/N didn’t contain a word, said everything she was trying to say for days, weeks, maybe months for her boyfriend, but she never found the right moment. And maybe, that one wasn’t either.

"Oh yes? If I’m mature enough why we’re still together then?! ” Draco screamed loudly, unintentionally, but everyone within a radius of at least 3km could hear. Some Slytherin students who passed close to them both had their fingers crossed to prevent what was going to happen. Y/N then raised her eyebrows, she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She simply adjusted her uniform, and looked deep into the boy’s eyes, turned around and went on her way, saying nothing.

That had been a week ago, and since then, Draco had taken a vow of silence against Y/N. It was as if the girl just didn’t exist. At first it was kind of mutual, she also didn’t want to chat with him. But, apparently, she was the only one who had felt the slightest bit of regret about what they had done. After two weeks and still nothing, Draco continued to completely ignore the existence of Y/N. The girl, on the other hand, was never going to show that she missed him, although, as the days went by, she didn’t need to say with words what she was feeling, it was clear.

In a divination class, your partner was Blaise, the two of you were sitting at a table above Draco and Pansy. He always knew that you were a little jealous of the girl, since you two were never very good friends, and she always made it very clear that her fancies draco Draco. They were both whispering things and giggling right in front of Y/N. Her furious eyes at the two kept her from paying attention to what were the names of Jupiter’s moons.

"Why don’t you go talk to him already, Y/N?” Blaise said to the girl beside him, it was as clear as daylight that she was jealous.

“Me? Why would I talk to him? I don’t understand your points, you know” She said finally taking her eyes off Draco, since she had been discovered.

“You two are really unbearable, him acting like you don’t exist and you acting like you don’t care. Really pathetic. ” He leaned back and turned his attention to the Professor in front of him.

Y/N chose to ignore Blaise, he didn’t make sense in the girl’s opinion, he was just someone else who had a wrong opinion about her … Right?

***

The following days were nothing different, cute Draco with Pansy and Y/N hating any man. People were starting to get used to the idea that the most powerful couple at Hogwarts was no longer together, it seemed, and were relieved not to be as bad as they thought it could be. Some would dare say it was even better that way. The two without speaking for so long, even if therw was no official ending, it was easier to put up with. At the end of a long day, with two times of history of magic, Y/N has just returned to the common room. 

She was beginning to think that after almost a month without speaking, Draco already considered her his ex-girlfriend. These thoughts haunted her for many hours, and she hated them deeply. He could be an asshole at times, but if there were people Y/N was sure to have a good heart, even if deep down, it was Draco. She really liked him.

As soon as the girl entered the common room, she caught a glimpse of Draco and Blaise talking near a pillar, and just passed by without wanting Draco to see her with teary eyes as the thoughts she hated so much were back. But even though she was passing fast, she couldn’t help but hear a comment from Draco “I’m telling you, Blaise, every day that I wanted that this git to have never come to Hogwarts, it’s incredible how I can’t stand being around without feeling rage” And the girl didn’t wait another second to run upstairs and drop the tears on her pillow. That was it, Draco wanted to end it all.

The next day was the most difficult of those last days. It seemed that everything around reminded her of Draco, it seemed that everyone around her was happly dating. If Y/N could choose a super power it would certainly be invisibility. At least she would have potions class today, her favorite subject, and yet she doubted she would pay any attention, last night had been filled not with snoring, but with sobs from crying.

She entered the potions room and went straight to the back table, she didn’t want to draw attention today. As Professor Slughorn was speaking, Y/N was more and more sure that the table looked very comfortable for taking a nap.

"Miss Y/L/N” Professor Slughorn called Y/N, the girl was far from waking up, several students were laughing quietly. He called her three more times before giving up and trying something different. “Well, guys, as I said to you, Amortenia is a very strong potion, probably the most dangerous in this room. And to prove it to you, I’m going to use it to wake up Miss Y/L/N. ” So the Porfessor put some of the potion in a bottle and took it open very close to Y/N, the girl in the same time woke up.

“What the …” She got up scared and looked around the room, looking for where this familiar smell came from. 

“Can you share with the class what you smell, Miss Y/L/N?” Professor Slughorn asked.

“Hm… a woody smell, with a hint of mint and… chamomile shampoo.” The girl replied and everyone laughed, everyone in the room knew who was the only person at school who could have these three smells at the same time. Draco who was on the other side of the room, stared at Y/N with sad eyes. It seems that finally, after days, he realized who he was ignoring. Whose flowers did he smell when the professor opened the potion next to him. Seeing Y/N the way, holding back the crying, broke his heart into a thousand pieces. What had he done.

As everyone was laughing, and the Professor Slughorn without understanding nothing, let the girl go to the bathroom when she asked. He might not have understood why, but he knew that for some reason the smell that the girl felt made her very sad, since the girl had tears in her eyes.

“Professor, can I go to the bathroom too?” Draco asked the professor a few minutes after Y/N left. That’s when he understood everything. As soon as the boy got close to him, he felt exactly what Y/N had described. Slughorn may be not a student anymore, but as a good slytherin, he heard the gossip here and there. “Ah… Of course, of course, you can.”

Draco ran down the castle corridors after Y/N, she couldn’t have gone that far. He then stopped and thought for a minute, where could she be? And without much delay he got his answer. The boy ran to the bathroom where he was sure he would find Y/N, and he was right.

He heard it outside one of the cabins. “He doesn’t deserve you if he goes to treat you like rubbish!” Myrtle’s voice echoed throughout the bathroom, as no one came, it was normal for this to happen. Draco wasn’t sure why, but Y/N was the only person at Hogwarts who really enjoyed Myrtle’s company. 

Unfortunately the conversation between the two did not last much longer, Draco made a lot of noise when entering the bathroom. Y/N without thinking twice, took her wand and stood by, that was what made the girl a first-rate Slytherin. "Who’s there?“ 

“Y/N, it’s me, Draco” The boy said coming closer to the cabin door where his girlfriend was.“Filthy fellow! Go away, don’t you think you’ve done enough?” Myrtle said flying over the stall with his arms crossed to look Draco in the eye. Naturally Myrtle was already scary, but sailing in anger instead of sad was worse than you can imagine.

“Go away, Draco” A much less aggressive and much more tearful voice came from the other side of the wooden door. She wouldn’t admit it, but she was crying a few minutes ago.“I just want to talk …” Draco put a hand on the door in front of him. “Ah! Briliant! Now do you want to talk? ” Myrtle replied angrily.“Can you let me talk to my girlfriend in peace, Myrtle?!” Draco replied angrily to the ghost that hung over him. Myrtle was going to give a very rude answer when Y/N interrupted her. “Myrtle, if you don’t mind, can you give us a little privacy?” Myrtle groaned in disapproval, but ended up diving through the pipes of one of the bathroom toilets.

“Well, since you decided to be so talkative, you can speek now" 

"You can open the door, I mean that for you and not for an old wooden door” Draco grunted, still holding his hands on the door, holding it as if it could fall at any moment.

“No. Whatever you have to say, say it anyway” Y/N shrugged her feet over the toilet, she was sitting on top of the lid. 

Draco sighed and leaned his head against the door. "I’m sorry, Y/N.” He sighed for another moment. “I was an idiot. Ignoring you was the most stupid thing I’ve ever done. And teasing you with Pansy was even worse, God that girl is a nightmare.” He vowed to hear a Y/N giggle muffled by the door. Then he turned on his back and stood there. “I … I really tried to be without you, but today in Professor Slughorn’s class, seeing you describe … well … what you described, just made me realize what I was doing, it was so … . bloody stupid. Look, I understand if you want to break up, I really was an asshole, but I needed you to know that I regretted talking to you that way, the same time I saw you walk away from me.” And he walked away from the door.

In all this time together, Y/N had never seen Draco be so transparent with what he felt. So he didn’t want to end, but what about the conversation with Blaise? Y/N opened the door and was faced with a very sad Draco. Definitely the girl had never seen him look so downcast. He let out a sad smile when he saw the girl with puffy eyes and red cheeks in front of him. It was incredible that she was still the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

"So you don’t want to finish things?" A hoarse voice came from Y/N’s throat. "Me? Finish? Never! Where did you get that crazy idea? ” Draco replied approaching the girl."I heard you talking to Blaise yesterday in the common room, about not being able to stand the thought of having me at Hogwarts…” She replied looking at her feet. Draco laughed through his nose.“I was talking about Potter, Y/N …” And came closer to the girl.

Now it was Y / N’s turn to laugh. “I should have known …” She finally hugged the boy in front of her by the waist. Draco smiled and looked deep into his girlfriend’s eyes. He was happy again. He felt complete. Having Y/N in his hands was like having the whole world to himself. Drunk with so much love, he didn’t wait another second to place a kiss on the girl’s lips. Was her. He knew she was the one he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

After breaking the kiss that shared so much passion, Draco said in such a low tone that only Y/N could hear, even if there was no one else there. “Promise me something?” The girl looked into his gray eyes, always liked the immensity of feelings that lived there, and agreed with the head. “Never walk away from me again, seeing you leave was the worst thing I’ve ever felt.” The girl smiled and placed another short kiss on his lips.

“Never.”

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

popcorn & pronouns

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Janus, Remus, Roman Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Dukeceit, Creativitwins  Warnings: Not much to warn for in this one. Language, a little bit of suggestiveness, vague non-detailed descriptions of a horror movie.  Word count: 3402

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

Starlight Universe masterpost

Dukeceit Week 2021 start - previous - here - next - masterpost

Summary: A movie night date leads to an important conversation. Already being t4t makes it a lot easier. Or, in Remus's own words, “This is just, like, going to be a week of people coming out to me, I guess. Huh.”

Notes: Day 6 of Dukeceit Week 2021! Almost there! @dukeceitweek Takes place in my Starlight Universe, where each piece can be read without any context. Takes place 9 months after college; at the start of the story, Janus uses only they/them pronouns. 

-- 

“Ooh, popcorn! Can I have some?” Roman popped his head into the kitchen of the apartment he, Remus, and Logan had shared in the nine or so months since they had all graduated college.

“No, Jan and I are having a date in twenty minutes,” Remus said, waving Roman off without looking away from the air popper.

“Okay, I don’t see how that’s relevant to my question.” Roman pushed himself to sit on the counter by the sink. “I mean, that’s really cute, I hope you have fun. But can I have some popcorn?”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Make your own when I’m done.”

“But you make it better!” Roman pouted overdramatically.

Remus raised an eyebrow. “All I do is plug in the machine?”

“Right, which is better than me doing it.” Roman grinned at them. “Less work for me.”

“Hey!” Remus swatted his arm. “The transphobia, honestly—”

“Well, if you making it for me is transphobic to you, then you not making it for me is—” Roman broke off quite suddenly, his expression undergoing several shifts very fast that Remus could not make sense of. Which was… unusual, to say the least. Roman was normally the one person they could always count on understanding. They didn’t like this new development one bit.

“Ro?”

“Iiiiiit’s… queerphobic to me,” Roman said at last, a worried pinch to his eyebrows. He laughed, and it almost didn’t sound forced. “So we’re at a tie, so you should just make me popcorn.”

“First of all, I’m queer too, make your own damn popcorn. Second—” Remus turned away from the popcorn machine and gave Roman his full attention, leaning back against the kitchen island and tilting his head to the side. “Do you wanna talk about whatever the fuck that was?” So far as Remus knew, Roman was bi; that was the label he’d been using for years and years, so long that it practically felt like forever. Since almost the very beginning of high school. Since before Remus had questioned their gender, even. Only last week, he’d called the light switch biphobic without hesitation when it broke.

Whatever had happened to make him so very deliberately not call himself bi just now, it was new.

Roman’s expression closed up very fast indeed, but not before Remus caught a flash of something he was almost certain was fear. “No.”

“You know it’s okay to question, right?” Remus inquired awkwardly. “No matter what specifically, and no matter what the outcome is? Yeah?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You know I’d still love you no matter what, right? Even if you were, like, a straight man—like, I would make so many jokes about not agreeing with your lifestyle, but—Ro, you know everything is always gonna be okay, right?”

Roman glared at him. “Remus, I don’t want to talk about it.” He wrinkled his nose. “And I’m definitely not straight.”

Remus blinked and raised their hands. “Alright. I didn’t mean literally straight, I just meant—you could be literally whatever, and it would be cool. That was—like—the most extreme example I could think of, you know?”

Roman let out a slight huff of laughter. “Thanks,” he said reluctantly after a pause. “It’s nothing, though.”

“Bullshit,” Remus said immediately.

“It—” Roman swallowed. “I need it to be nothing, okay?”

“If anyone’s making you feel shitty, I’ll beat them up,” Remus said immediately. “Even if it’s Patton. Just drop the names. I’ll do it. I’ll—”

“Remus, it’s fine. I want to stop fucking talking about it now!” Roman snapped.

Remus hesitated, fumbling for what to do or say next, everything about the conversation feeling just a little wrong and sideways.

Roman sighed. “Sorry.” He pushed off the counter, went to the fridge, and stared into it for a solid thirty seconds, then took a cheese stick out of the door. “I’ll make my own popcorn later,” he mumbled and retreated back to his room.

“Damn, alright,” Remus said to the empty room. “Be like that, I guess.” They flung their hands into the air and went to get the butter they’d been melting in the microwave before Roman’s appearance.

Roman would talk to them about it, whatever it was, eventually. He always did. And whatever was bugging him, Remus would figure out a way to bug it back until it stopped and Roman was all happy and bubbly again. Because that was what Remus always did. It would be fine. It was just a waiting game.

Remus sighed. He always hated waiting.

***

“Mmkay,” Remus said, when Janus had arrived, and they had worked together to move the TV out of the living room and into Remus’s room, and they had settled in on Remus’s bed—Remus sitting up against the headboard and Janus half-laying in Remus’s lap with their long thin legs stretched out along the bed and their head on his chest—and the popcorn had been set beside them where they could both reach it, and the blanket nest had been fluffed once more. “What shall we watch?”

Janus was silent for a long moment. Actually, come to think of it, they had been quiet since they’d arrived at the apartment—even more quiet than usual. But Remus was almost certain they weren’t nonverbal, seeing as they had exchanged a few fond words with him. It just hadn’t been very many words.

“Janny, baby?” Remus leaned forward, over their shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of their face.

Janus had their fingers knotted in the blanket that was spread over their lap, fidgeting with it anxiously, a thinking-hard expression on their face.

“Baby?” Remus curled one hand lightly around theirs. “You good?”

“Choices are too hard right now,” Janus said at last.

“Okay, that’s okay. Do you know what you need?”

“I want to watch a movie.” Janus frowned. “I just can’t choose.”

“Gotcha. No problem.” Remus pressed a kiss to their cheek. “I’m really good at choosing.” He threaded his fingers through Janus’s long hair, scratching soothingly at their scalp in just the way he knew they liked, and pulled up the library of movies, switching from Roman’s profile to his own.

“How’s some really cheesy horrible horror film we can make fun of sound?” he asked, scrolling with the remote and still playing with Janus’s hair with his other hand. “I know we have a bunch of those, I loved ’em when we were kids and I think they’re funny.”

“That sounds fine.” Janus nodded and relaxed a little further against Remus.

“Good.” He kissed the top of their head. “Do you need anything else?”

Janus shook their head. “I’ve just been kind of stressed lately. Work’s been shit, and all that. It’s fine. I just want to cuddle and things.”

“Ooh, ‘and things,’ I like the sound of that,” Remus teased, sliding his hand gently to their chin and drawing them to twist around far enough that he could kiss them soft and slow.

“I didn’t say what kinds of things,” Janus said innocently, their eyes still closed and so close to Remus that their lips brushed against his as they spoke. “Perhaps I could be persuaded later.”

“I’ll be sure to prepare my best arguments,” Remus said, leaning slightly up to kiss their forehead and then back down to their lips for another lazy kiss, taking his time and exploring Janus’s mouth until they sighed and melted against him.

“A compelling preview,” they murmured, their eyes still closed and the slightest smile curling at their lips.

Remus meant to make some kind of witty quip in return, really he did, but all that came out of his mouth was a quiet, awed, “Holy fuck, you’re so beautiful, Jan.”

Janus’s eyes opened and met his for a moment, soft and vulnerable, before they turned and hid their face in his neck. “Love you,” they whispered against his skin.

“Mm, I love you too,” Remus said happily, wrapping his arms securely around Janus and kissing the top of their head. “Love your pretty eyes and skin and hair and body, love how clever you are, love your scary goth clothes, love your snark, love your stims, love you—”

Janus whined wordlessly into his neck, pressing kisses to it and fisting their hands in the front of his shirt.

Remus chuckled, taking a handful of their hair and gently tugging until they looked up at him once more. “Do you want to watch a movie at all, or do you just wanna make out? Cause I’d be good with either, but if you wanna do a movie, we should get on that before we’re too distracted.”

“Oh.” Janus leaned their head back a little until it was resting against Remus’s hand. “Not that I don’t want to make out, but—”

“Nah, I gotcha. Gotta at least get through the popcorn, am I right?” Remus cast about for the remote, lost in the blanket pile, as Janus shifted about until they faced the television again.

“There it is!” Remus snatched the remote up, clicking through the library on the television until he saw the particular film he was thinking of and pulled it up. “This look good?”

“‘When moving into their new house, little do our protagonists know it is haunted by a demonic serial killer. Will they get out in time? Or will they be his next victims?’” Janus read the summary aloud. “Sounds absolutely thrilling. Extremely original. Love the bad Photoshop on the cover. I’m sure the acting will be of the highest quality.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s so shitty, I love it. So many cheesy effects and fake blood, it’s the actual stupidest shit,” Remus assured them. “I love it, though. Went as the demon thing for Halloween when I was nine. Nobody fucking knew what I was, but I had the time of my life. And got fake blood on Roman when he wasn’t looking. It was great.”

Janus chuckled, reaching up to brush their fingertips against Remus’s cheek. “Well, with such a glowing review from someone so attractive, how can I resist?” they said fondly.

“That’s the spirit!” Remus hit play.

Remus had watched this particular movie more times than they could count over the course of their childhood. He peppered commentary throughout the film:

“This is my favorite part, if you pay attention you can see her real fingertips holding onto the fake hand she’s about to get chopped off!”

“There’s a jumpscare in this scene, I know you hate those—okay, hit the skip-ten-seconds button in three, two, there. Perfect. Dumbass demon movie can’t even trust itself to be creepy without cheap scares.”

“Look, I know the mom is supposed to have some kind of hot blonde thing going on for the horny straight men in the audience, but she’s got nothing on you.”

“For some reason they made a director’s commentary and it actually includes the fake blood recipe they used, I’ll show you sometime!”

Janus, in turn, provided brilliant, extremely snarky roasts, mostly of either the actors’ absolute lack of skill or the gaping plot holes:

“Oh, yes, going alone to the attic at midnight without so much as a candle is a fantastic idea, nothing bad could possibly happen in this scene.”

“Listen, I can excuse the children because they’re about eight years old, but do you think this man has ever even heard of acting? Or even, like, speaking in a non-monotone?”

“I am truly fascinated by the special effects department’s understanding of human anatomy.”

“So, the demon feeds on misery? Why hasn’t it taken up residence in a large office building? I mean, come on, hundreds of souls in an environment designed to grind out constant levels of misery? It’s perfect. The poor thing must be starving out here in the two-point-five-kids-and-a-dog suburbs, every meal it gets is tiny. I would be so much better at its job than it is.”

At last the credits rolled.

“Wanna see pictures of the costume I made?” Remus asked.

“Sure.” Janus sounded amused.

“Lemme just—” Remus scrolled through their camera roll for a minute. “Oh, here they are.” They displayed their phone to Janus; tiny nine-year-old Remus, who sported long tangled brown hair in two ponytails, was draped in a black curtain, donated by his great-aunt, that he had very enthusiastically taken a pair of scissors to to create a tattered effect; the curtain was splattered with bright red goo, and tiny Remus had a pair of plastic knives in his hands, which were blurry in almost every photo because they’d hardly stopped making stabbing motions all evening. To their right, their little sister Gabby, who’d been six at the time, was dressed as Elastigirl and making a punching motion; to their right, Roman—who had already been a full three inches taller than Remus, even at nine—was wearing a Belle dress with a poofy skirt and a sword strapped around his waist and a huge smile that was missing one front tooth.

Remus swiped through the photos; a delightful scene unfolded, as tiny Remus posed for a few pictures, then in one was blurrily turning towards Roman, then dumping something on him, then Roman was screaming and Remus was laughing as red goo dripped down the poofy yellow skirt; Gabby watched with both hands clapped over her mouth, eyes huge.

“You two really have not changed at all, have you?” Janus asked, stifling laughter.

“Absolutely not,” Remus agreed with an answering laugh. “I think the most that either of us ever changed was when I chopped off all that hair and dyed it green.”

“When was that?” Janus asked.

“Sophomore year of high school. I did not have permission to chop it all off, but I did get permission to dye it afterwards, so that was pretty sick.”

“And that didn’t go against dress code?” Janus inquired.

“No, actually. Not sure how. But I bet my parents would’ve kicked up a big stink about it if the school tried and made me change it; they were always super big on self expression and shit.” Remus gestured towards the picture, indicating tiny Roman in his princess dress. “We always got to wear whatever we wanted, and shit like that. It was nice. Made gender shit way easier when that became a thing for me, you know?”

“It sounds nice,” Janus said softly. “I’m happy you had that.”

Remus nodded and pressed a kiss to their forehead, reaching for a handful of the popcorn dregs in the bottom of the bowl.

Janus shifted in their arms, rolling over to face Remus and propping themself up on their elbows. “Actually,” they began.

Something on their face told Remus that whatever this new topic of conversation was, it was important. He swallowed the half-chewed popcorn in his mouth. “Yeah, baby?”

“Speaking of gender.” Janus picked at the edge of the blanket.

“I love speaking of that, go on.” Remus tousled Janus’s hair fondly.

Janus took a deep breath, staring at the blanket in their hands. “I want to start using he pronouns again. In addition to my regular ones. Or.” They wrinkled their nose. “My current ones, I guess. So, he/they.”

“That’s great, he/they pronouns are very sexy,” Remus said at once.

Janus laughed, looking up at him at last. “That’s true, you are the sexiest person I know,” he said fondly. A shadow passed over his features. “But,” he went on slowly, chewing on the inside of their lip and picking at the blanket once more.

“Yeah?” Remus encouraged.

“I really don’t like the idea of telling anyone else about that.” Janus grimaced. “I keep worrying I’ll get asked stupid questions about ‘oh, so are you a man again now?’ when—like—no, and I never was one in the first place. So.”

“Oh, that sounds gross,” Remus agreed at once. “I can see why you’d be worried about that.”

Janus nodded. “I just—I don’t want to explain. And I don’t want people to ask questions. And they might. And I just—I don't want any of it. I want to skip to the part where they know and it’s all how I want it to be.”

“That’s reasonable,” Remus agreed. “But, I mean, if they can get me using he/they pronouns and being nonbinary, they had better fucking wrap their minds around the concept of you doing it too. Yeah? Or I’ll make ’em. Violently, if you want.”

Janus snorted. “I appreciate the offer, darling.” They reached up and touched his cheek. “I… don’t know if I want to tell anyone else yet. But I did want to tell you.”

“You got it, cutie.” Remus booped Janus’s nose once. “Just let me know if anything changes. I’ll punch people for you. Anytime. They don’t even have to have done anything. Just point me at them and consider it done.”

Janus did laugh at that, outright, scrunching up his face and burying it in Remus’s chest. “I should not be this into you offering to punch people for me,” he said wryly.

Remus grinned and flipped their hair. “Nah, I think it’s definitely very sexy of me and should absolutely turn you on.”

Janus smacked Remus’s arm. “I did not say that!”

“You implied it.”

“Not… necessarily. That was one possible interpretation—”

“Oh, right, I see, mmhm, very interesting.”

They smacked his arm again. “You’re teasing me.”

“Only a little bit. You’re so pretty when you get all flustered.” Remus bent their head at a somewhat awkward angle to kiss Janus’s lips gently. “Are there any new words you want me to use, by the way?” they asked. “Besides updating pronouns?”

Janus tilted his head to the side, considering. “I think… I still like all the sorts of things you call me already. Pretty, and partner, and—and baby, and so on.”

Remus smirked. “That’s good, I like calling you baby.”

“Oh my god, shut up.” Janus hid their face in their hands.

“Why, baby?” Remus asked innocently.

Janus made a strangled noise, and after a pause carried on. “I do think I wouldn’t mind adding a little bit of… masc terminology? I guess? If that makes sense? Adding that into the mix. Not all the time, and not as much as the things you already call me, but… just a bit would be nice.”

“Gotcha.” Remus nodded. “I can do that. So, like, my baby is very pretty and handsome?”

Janus’s cheeks went bright red in an instant, and he hid his face in Remus’s chest again, letting out a tiny wordless scream. “Yes. That. That—that’s nice,” they managed after a pause, sounding almost entirely composed.

Remus chuckled and ran their fingers through Janus’s hair. “Good to know,” he said teasingly. “I will definitely keep this in mind.”

“Oh my god,” Janus mumbled. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Absolutely, but only in a sexy way of making you happy.” Remus kissed the top of their head. “This is just, like, going to be a week of people coming out to me, I guess,” they mused. “Huh.”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, something’s clearly eating at someone else we know, and I think they’re going to tell me about whatever it is within the week. That’s all. It was just funny timing.” Remus kissed the top of Janus’s head again. “So, the movie’s over,” they noted, which, sure, was a blatant and deliberate change of subject, but he felt this was justified, both for avoiding-speculating-about-Roman’s-personal-information purposes and, more importantly, for fun-after-movie-things purposes.

“That it is,” Janus said, a particular innocent tone entering their voice. Excellent, he was of a similar mind to Remus, then.

Remus grinned and drew them up for a kiss. “So, what does the very pretty and handsome and lovely human in my arms want to do now?” he inquired.

Janus made another small, wordless, flustered noise and promptly dragged Remus into another kiss. “You can’t just say things like that!”

“What, about how you’re the loveliest—prettiest—sexiest—” Remus pressed tiny kisses to Janus’s lips with each word, until at last they caught his lips with their own in a proper kiss to shut him up. “Pretty sure I can say it, actually,” Remus murmured against his lips. “Cause it’s true.”

“Oh, like you’re one to talk,” Janus said, sounding very pleased indeed, and kissed them again.

--

Taglist (ask to be added/removed!): @theimprobabledreamersworld @peruviandesertfox

[tempenensis]

Halo! Here's a reddit link to information and research papers about onmyodo consolidated by other people and a link to an overview. Tried to summarize below bits and pieces that may be relevant to jjk (and which I tried to understand to the best of my abilities :P )

I think this will be the last time I write such a long-ass ask again, my apologies

About cursed spirits and mono

Court onmyojis in Heian used divination to find out the cause of things like curses, strange events (kaii), natural disasters, illness, why your dog is barking at a seemingly empty spot (answer: Megumi's divine dog is barking back) and so on. Strange events were referred to as mokke (物怪) or mono no satoshi (もノノサトシ) and believed to be omens of calamity that were caused by mono or "things" which could be anything like the curses of gods or something from the Imperial mausoleums. Furthermore, during the rule of Emperor Kanmu from end of Nara to early Heian, the Ritsuryo system of government began to crumble as imperial rule changed hands and political victims were feared as onryō (怨霊) that caused disease or death to the Emperor's nearest relatives (but not the Emperor himself). The fear of strange phenomena spread through the aristocrats and became commonplace. Onymojis were believed to be able to deal with the curse of mono as well (otherwise it's off to the chopping board for their jobs (and lives) they go, chop chop). And so the Imperial Court funded them to perform quelling rituals and ceremonies to appease gods, clear away damages by insects, pray for harvests and prevent the spread of epidemics (which ironically was exacerbated by the court's overspending and large-scale deforestation but that's another story). For individual cases like the spirits of living persons (ikiryō or ikisudama), or spirits of dead people (akuryō, ryō, onryō, shiryō or bōkon), onmyojis might determine that spiritual energy or evil spirits (mono no ke) was the cause but mikkyō genja (験者) or ritualists were the ones to subdue it by incantations. JJK cursed spirits resemble mono no ke in that they cannot be seen and may harm humans. Whereas jujutsu sorcerers are more like genja ritualists (complete with flashy kamehameha bombs) (and besides being cursed).

Lifespan rituals

The most popular theory for Sukuna's fixation with Megumi has already been covered by this blog owner with additional info on the Ten Divine Treasures. Another theory is that Sukuna could have been aiming for a higher level of enlightenment. Besides the Shinto-Buddhism angle, Onmyodo also has its own set of rituals concerning life and death. Onmyodo is basically a system of divination and techniques that focuses on worldly benefits and has no vision of the world after death. The rituals were instead based on the Chinese beliefs in honmyō (本命), Zokushō (属星) or the realm of the dead (冥界) and by the end of Heian, there were more than forty Onmyodo rituals to pray for the individual health and longevity of aristocrats (commoners: eat the rich 👎). For the terms honmyō and Zokushō, the closest meaning I can give without being too horribly misleading would be the life/destiny that you are born with according to your birth year, zodiac, constellation and so on. The most popular ritual was Taizan Fukun sai (泰山府君祭), which originated around the beginning of the tenth century and was closely associated with Abe no Seimei (yes that guy you keep seeing in anime). Taizan Fukun (泰山府君) is the lord of the eastern peak of Mt. Tai in China, a deity that summons the spirits of the dead and administers the lengthening and shortening of human lifespans. Twelve deities of the realm of the dead including Taizan Fukun were involved in this ritual. It was implemented on every honmyō day, but also as needed for illness, childbirth, natural disasters, and strange events. Media adaptations often depict Abe no Seimei (or other onmyojis) using the ritual for resurrection or reincarnation 😅 e.g. Tokyo Ravens, Shaman King, Onmyoji (2001). I don't think Gege will go for the same cliché trope for Sukuna but it's still interesting to know.

Seimei and Dōman (Gojo and Getou)

Anyone who knows about the folklores of Abe no Seimei 安倍 晴明 would be familiar with his eternal rival, Dōman 道満. Like Gojo who's the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, Seimei was the leading onmyoji specialist of his time. His position as the Kurōdo-dokoro onmyōji (highest-ranking onmyoji), legendary reputation and long lifespan lent to the notion that he had mystical powers due to being born from a human father and a kitsune mother. During Heian, Onmyodo referred to the organization of onmyojis under the control of high-ranking people of the same profession (kinda like the JJK elders) rather than the system of beliefs known today. Onmyōji with official status like Abe no Seimei would be kanjin onmyōji (官人陰陽師) or official onmyōji. Non-official onmyojis would include hōshi onmyōji (法師陰陽師) or priest onmyōji, who had the appearance of Buddhist priests (like how Getou was dressed as a cult leader), and presumably the control of the Onmyōdō did not extend to them. Official onmyōji, under the strict supervision of their superiors, would not have been permitted to have any connection with criminal acts such as curses. Instead, the Heian nobility turned to hoshi-onmyojis like Dōman to lay curses on their political rivals. There were many incidents involving curses within aristocratic society in Seimei’s time, and in a majority of cases the curses were placed by hōshi-onmyōji. Dōman himself had been spotted visiting a noblewoman, Takashina no Mitsuko, who employed hōshi-onmyōji to put a curse on several prominent political figures. Getou: "Let's curse each other... to our hearts' content!"

War onmyojis (and questioning of Gege's probable naming sense)

The Sengoku era treated court onmyojis poorly (ceremonies were expensive to fund). Warrior onmyodo being more practical (divining auspicious days for battle/forming alliances and exorcising evil spirits) became prominent instead. Academies that taught Confucian studies with divination and medicine as part of the curriculum flourished and the most famous was Ashikaga Gakkō (足利学校) (not as modern as Tokyo Jujutsu High though). Like Nanami and co. who became professional sorcerers, many of its students went to the battlefield as diviners and doctors. When peace returned during Tokugawa Ieyasu's rule, a few practitioners thrived by attaching themselves to powerful men. One would be Tenkai (天海) and another Kanshitsu Genkitsu, head of the Ashikaga Gakko. Being Ieyasu's bff, a temple Fushimi Enkoji (伏見円光寺) modeled after Ashikaga was built and Kanshitsu appointed as its head. Ieyasu also sponsored Kanshitsu's Fushimiban (伏見版), a publication project printed with wooden blocks. I'm definitely reaching here for Tengen and Fushiguro but I do wonder if Gege ever chanced upon those names.

🦆A Tail of Many Kamos: 鴨川, 下鴨, 鴨, 加茂, 賀茂 🦆

鴨川 - the Kamo river northeast of the Heian capital (modern Kyoto)

下鴨 - the Shimogamo Shrine (下鴨神社), a Shinto shrine dedicated to the Kamo family of kami

鴨 - the clan associated with the Kamo shrines and the famous poet-priest Kamo no Chōmei (鴨 長明) who witnessed the end of Heian. Also Bucephala albeola.

加茂 - Kamo no matsuri (加茂祭) or Aoi no matsuri (葵祭), an annual festival of Shimogamo Shrine and Kamigamo Shrine and one of the three major festivals in Kyoto, also one of the three big jujutsu clans (加茂家) in JJK. It's funny that Gege would choose a name with the same pronunciation as a real-life historic clan, which brings to the next point.

賀茂 - the formal name of the Shimogamo Shrine (賀茂御祖神社), also a once-prominent Heian Onmyoji family that died out during the Sengoku era. Thereafter, the Tsuchimikado (former Abe clan) took over their hereditary duties of keeping the calendar. Abe no Seimei's teacher was the astrology scholar (tenmon hakase 天文博士) Kamo no Yasunori (賀茂保憲). Could Kenjaku be based on Abe no Seimei as well?

The Musical Exorcist

The rock-n-roll grandpa, Gakuganji, might be based on the lesser known lute-priests called biwa-hoshi (琵琶法師) or zatō (座頭). Their musical style is referred to as heikyoku (平曲), which literally means "heike music". Accompanied by their mōsō-biwa (盲僧琵琶), the often-blind lay priests would chant Buddhist mantras, placate earth deities, perform spirit pacification chinkon (鎮魂) of vengeful spirits including onryō, communicate with the dead (Principal Yaga 😢), purify defilements haraikikyomeru (祓い清め) and border rites kyōkai girei (境界儀礼) that expel malign forces. The thesis "From Heike to Nomori no kagami" suggests that the musical practices and theories of Heike correlate with Yin-Yang principles. Which I will not further expound bcos I haz zero music theory knowledge and also this ask is far too long 😛 Hopefully Gakuganji will not remain blind to the less-than-holy intentions of the jujutsu higher-ups as the story continues.

Hello, lore anon! Thank you for compiling another stellar read!

Aaw, you'll be missed, but it's fine. Just do things and drop by if you feel like it.

Yes, onmyodo has a large influence on Japanese pop culture. Numerous manga takes their inspiration from onmyodo, jjk only one of them. Onmyouji had a very large political influence in the court. They were also a legit government position, literally civil servants back in the day.

The legend of Abe no Seimei and his rival Ashiya Douman is also famous. Abe no Seimei was said to be born from a kitsune (fox spirit) mother and human father, so he is often thought to not be fully human, hence his supernatural ability. I wouldn't be surprised if one of these characters is inspired by either Seimei or Douman; Sukuna, Kenjaku, or Tengen.

Kamo, yes, it seems that Gege actually takes the name of the clan. The fanbook said that Kamo clan arised to influence during the heyday of Heian period, the Golden age of Jujutsu. While it's lesser known, Kamo family is quite a legend too alongside Abe no Seimei in onmyoudou. As you said, Kamo no Tadayuki and his son Kamo no Yasunori has been known to teach Abe no Seimei.

[awed-frog]

“The big flaw with this is that it completely misunderstands who JK Rowling is and why she wrote the books. Simply put, this novel is a Christian tale. You miss that, you miss the entire point of everything it has to say.” Elaborate? Sounds interesting and I haven’t heard that before.

Well - I love this to bits and sort of wrote my thesis about it, so here we go.

Basically, you’ve got several kinds of heroes, but ‘left-wing hero’ is almost a contradiction in terms (more on this later). There’s your average Greek hero, whose status as a hero is more of a social class than it is a job and who generally doesn’t have any morally redeeming qualities (have you met Theseus?). Then there’s the medieval Christian hero - he comes in different flavours, but what’s relevant here is the Perceval model: basically the village idiot, whose only power is his good heart and who has no desire to challenge the status quo (because kings are divinely ordained and also poets tend to work for them, so ‘That vassal guy of yours has rescued yet another damsel’ story is going to be better received than ‘Your tax system is corrupt and this knight will now implement direct democracy’). Next you have the modern superhero, who was born in a very different historical context (the vigilantism of 19th century US) and as such has very different priorities. Namely: in his world, there is no higher authority and it’s up to him to use his superior skills to be judge and executioner so he can protect the most vulnerable. This understandable but toxic narrative will later get mixed up with WW2 and then the rampant capitalism of the last 30 years, resulting in the current blockbustery mess.

Anyway - if you’re a Western writer, it’s basically impossible to escape these three shaping forces we’ve all grown up with (classical Antiquity, Christianity, and US-led imperialism/capitalism), so most books and movies of the last forever decades can be analyzed through this lens. In the case of JK Rowling, what you have is a Christian author who openly used her YA series to chart out her own relationship with God. This is not a secret, or a meta writer’s delusion, or anything: she’s discussed it in several interviews. Her main problem, which is most believers’ main problem, is how to reconcile her faith in a benevolent God with the suffering in her daily life; and something she’s mentioned more than once is how her mom died when she was 25, and how this was very much on her mind especially when she was writing Deathly Hallows.

Now, I don’t want to write a novel here, so I won’t analyze the entire series, but what it is is basically a social critique of British society, mixed up with Greek and Roman elements in a cosmetic way only, and - crucially - led by an extremely Christian hero. 

In every way that matters, Harry Potter is a direct descendant of Perceval: he’s someone who’s grown up in isolation as the village idiot (remember how he was shunned by other children because he was ‘dangerous’ and ‘different’), randomly found a more exciting world of which he previously knew nothing (he’s basically the only kid who gets to Hogwarts without knowing anything about the magical world, just like Perceval joined Arthur’s court after living in the woods for 15 years), and proceeded to make his mark not because of his innate powers or special abilities (he’s average at magic, except for Defence against the Dark Arts), but because he’s kind and good and humble. And in the end, he willingly sacrifices himself so everyone else can be saved: a Christ-like figure who even gets his very own Deposition (in the arms of Hagrid, the closest thing to a parent his actually has). 

(This, by the way, was the only reason why Hagrid was kept alive. JK Rowling had planned to kill him, but she absolutely wanted this scene - one of the most recognizable and beloved image in Christian art - in the books.)

And even if he ultimately survives his ‘death’ (like Jesus did), Harry refuses the riches and rank he was surely offered and chooses to spend his days in middle-class obscurity as a husband and father (if I remember correctly, Harry and Ginny’s house isn’t even big enough for their three kids). And no, of course he doesn’t stand for anything or challenges the status quo: that’s not his job. His job, like Jesus’, was to defeat evil by offering himself up in sacrifice; and the entire story - especially the last book - is a profound, intimate, and very moving reflection on faith.

(“Render unto Caesar the things that are Caesar's, and unto God the things that are God's”, remember? It’s not your job to change anything in the temporal, material world; your job is to nurture your immortal soul and prepare it for the true life that comes after death.)

Like - I don’t know how it was for younger readers, but for me, reading Deathy Hallows as an adult, it wrecked me. Even as an agnostic, I read it over and over again, and I kep finding new meaning in it. The whole thing is basically a retelling of the Book of Job, one of the most puzzling and beautiful parts of the Old Testament. That’s when Harry’s faith in God Dumbledore is tested, when his mentor, the cornerstone of his world, disappears; when Harry has to decide whether he’ll continue to believe in this absent, flawed figure despite all the bad things he keeps uncovering or give up his faith - and thus his soul - completely. The clearest, most startling moment exemplifying this religious dilemma is when Harry decides not to go after the wand. Getting it is the logical thing to do, the only way he can win, but Harry - while mourning Dobby - decides not to do it. That’s when he recovers his faith, and starts trusting his own kindness and piety (whatever happens, he will not defile a tomb) over everything else.

Another key moment is King’s Cross - here, and once more, Harry forgives his enemy, thus obeying Jesus’ commands. He sees Voldemort, the being who took everything from him - and he pities the pathetic, unloved thing he’s become. This is what sets him apart from everyone else and what makes him special: not his birth, not his magic, not some extraordinary artefact - but simply, like Dumbledore puts it, that he can love. After everything that’s bene done to him, he can still love; not only his friends, but his enemies. He forgives Voldemort, he forgives Snape, he forgives Malfoy, he forgives Dudley; and I see so many people angry about this, ranting about abuse victims and how hate is a right, but I think they’re missing the point. This is a Christian story; from a Christian perspective, your enemies need love more than your friends do. 

(“It is not those who are healthy who need a physician” and all that.)

And in any case, a hero is inherently not left-wing. The whole trope relies on three rock-solid facts: the hero is special, and he can do something you can’t, and that gives him the right or the duty to save others who can’t save themselves. Whether it is declined in its Christian form (the hero as self-sacrificing nobody) or in its fascist form (the hero as judge and king of the inferior masses), that is is the exact opposite of any kind of left-wing narrative, where meaningful change is brought about not by individual martyrdom or a benevolent super-human, but by collective action.

So, yeah - Harry changes nothing and is not the leader of the revolution, but it’s unfair to link this to JK Rowling’s politics. It’s just how the trope works. And, in fairness to her, many kind and compassionate authors who write books concerned with social justice tend to lean towards this kind of hero because the only workable alternative - the fascist super-hero - is way worse. Had Harry been that, for instance, he would have ended up ruling the wizarding world. Would that have been better for its democracy? A 19-year-old PM who knows nothing about the law or justice or diplomacy? A venerated war hero drunk on power? Instead, JK Rowling chooses the milder way out: Harry and his friends do change the system - little by little, and within the limits of the genre. Hermione becomes the equivalent of a human rights lawyer, while Harry and Ron join the Aurors (and I know there’s a lot of justified suspicion towards law enforcement, but frankly having good people in their ranks is still the only way to move things forward. It’s been years and I still haven’t heard a practical suggestion as to how a police-less nation would work). As for the government, it is restored to a fairer status quo - again, not the revolution many readers wanted, but also not the totalitarian monarchies or oligarchies or the super-hero’s world.

And as to how one can write a story that’s actually revolutionary - I don’t exactly know. Some writers rely on multiple narrating voices to try and escape the heroic trope; others work on bleak stories which point out the flaws in the system and stop short of solving them. I guess that, in the end, is one of the problem with left-wing politics: they’re simply less eye-catching, less cinematic. On the whole, it’s dull, boring work, the victories achieved by committees and celebrated with a piece of paper. From a literary point of view, it just doesn’t work.

[circusstarz]

Alright. I or we want to talk about something.

Just saw someone say "You can't choose alters" and people who think you can are pretty much shit heads, because again, that's not how alters nor DID/OSDD works-

I very much expected to get an Arthur alter from the Joker 2019 movie, but I didn't even after fixating on it for a while. That surprised me too, but in the end, Arthur was just a D/A I had got a couple of days.

I also didn't split into a Luca alter. Did I like the fandom? Yes. Did I enjoy the media? Yes. But did something happen that could have provoked a splitting in my system? No!

Now for the most recent example would be my Tim alter; a very very stressful situation came up for half a day, we probably even split there, maybe even split twice, and the next day all I remember is suddenly knowing Tim was there even though I've NEVER even watched the movie or series in the slightest- yes, I've been thinking about Tim a lot those prior days before that situation, yes I searched the movie up a bit, but I still wasn't interested nor fixated. And then suddenly there he was. Letting himself know. My brain took the most recent person I thought about and created this as an stress holder or protector.

That has happened with so many other media's too; Hotel Transylvania was a huge thing, though I doubt I have a Johnny alter. I really don't. I just love the franchise and liked it as comfort.

Your brain can legitimately choose any fucking thing (a person you're close with, a fictional character, an animal and even objects) to cope with in that moment. Whatever YOUR brain needs in that moment uses this thing as a coping mechanism. You can even split off as an alter from a song you've heard if it triggered an emotion. Legitimately, the origins of alters are so diverse it's sometimes impossible to know why they're there.

I only remember having or noticing alters after the most stressful things in my life; which is last year December, a positive split alter after being together with a friend I almost lost (which was half a year of suffering with abandonment fears, depression, confusion, anger, etc) , immense arguments, all that jazz. It has NEVER happened out of boredom or because I thought "I'm them now!"

I can legitimately track when my alters may have appeared, but they just popped up and had enough courage to front may much later in time when probably that same emotion that caused this split was triggered. That was Edward and Riddler.

And secondly, I'm so sick of this stigma around fictive and factive systems-

Especially neurodivergent people that have autism and Adhd (but there are WAY many others that make you fixate on something uncontrollably) tend to use fiction as coping or comfort. And traumatized children/toddlers with these disorders? It explains itself. Maybe it was the fictional character that made them feel 'safe', maybe imagining being a fictional character helped them cope with their heavy trauma. And sometimes you can't even control it. I think I have a possible actual Introject factive (a alter based of actual people) of Bo Burnham and I couldn't do anything against it. Stress filled our system, overwhelming emotions came out and it was the next thing we've seen before it or being fixated on it. He's there probably, but I'm not sure. And I'm not gonna assume anything.

But you get my point here and I'm going to repeat it again;

Being a Introject factive or fictive heavy system is something you CANT control and you shouldn't blame systems for being the way they are.

This is the way their brain coped with intense trauma. This is the way that helped them overcome repeated abuse, neglect or other forms of trauma. Stop making systems of DID/OSDD a quirky thing, and I even think Endogenic systems (basically non-traumatic systems) are making fun of actual systems because they choose their alters or think it's funny having alters. And no, I do not believe in BPD systems either. BPD systems do not exist. BPD is the same person having split emotions, not split personalities. They're emotions don't feel like their own, but not a completely different identify that has their own likes, names, ages, quirks, etc. And if they do exist, then you're probably in denial and DO have DID or OSDD.

These "systems" didn't experience any relevant trauma in their childhood (do not understand this wrong now; BPD is a trauma-based disorder, yet their trauma didn't affect their own personality, it didn't make their self split; it only made their emotions split.) and just 'create' personalities on their own even though that is NOT possible later in life after the maximum age of 8 or 9.

The reason alters are 'created' is because the 'core' was unable to form a fully functional personality in the most important life stages of development when 'finding' themselves. Their trauma broke this process, splitting their developing 'parts' into several pieces or fully stopping this process of a personality forming. Their identity, if you say. And this repeats itself when they grow up too, causing this exact same splitting of alters once anything stressful or traumatic appears.

Any other possibiliy of alters appearing after their fully formed personality and identity of self? No. Absolutely not. And I stand by that statement. You don't need alters if you already know who you are. You can't even 'act different' or be someone else if you fully know who you are, even after trauma later in life. Yes, trauma can cause disconnection from your body or mind and thoughts or feelings in many ways. And yes, trauma can make you experience a loss of identity or self for a period of time. But you still know who you are after recovering. You have a basic knowledge of who you deeply are. But back then, your child self/people with DID or OSDD used different 'versions' to cope with trauma or stress because that's simply how they learned to cope. They couldn't handle this trauma, so someone else had in their head. They dissociated.

Anyway, this is my huge rant for once because I'm actually sick of seeing these discussions about Endogenic systems or others judging fictive/factive or Introject heavy systems, little heavy systems, protector heavy systems or any other heavy systems. You don't know what that person's brain needed in their trauma. So stop assuming shit.

[nobodywritesthings]

Some more random bits of trivia about With Great Power

Part 1

Might as well just… put this here.  Spoilers below!  I ended up talking a lot about the villain side of things.

All for One uses a quirk he refers to as “Clothing Swap” to replace Izuku’s hero gear in Chapter 1.  For some random reason, I made a description of the quirk that ended up in my notes, though it never became relevant again.  Here it is: Clothing Swap: The target may have any article(s) considered to be “worn” swapped with any other article(s) the user has seen them wear previously. The user may choose themselves as a target. The swap may be uneven - a hat can be swapped for a full outfit, leading to someone really overdressed, or a full outfit for a hat, leading to the opposite - but “nothing” is not an option for either side of the swap. Objects in pockets or similar places of holding may be transferred into similar places in the new outfit, if available; otherwise they will stay with the clothing they were originally in. See that part about the user needing to see the target wearing the clothes previously?  All for One’s been stalking, and Izuku would’ve been able to guess almost immediately if he heard the details of that quirk.

Speaking of my notes, I tend to name the random fic ideas I write down in order to keep them easy to reference in my notes (or head).  I don’t always use those names for the finished product.  I liked the reference to the quote, “With great power comes great responsibility”, that I ended up going with for WGP’s story/chapter titles; but I actually came up with that theme after the majority of the fic was done.  For most of the writing process, I kept it filed under “Kingmaker AU”.

All for One’s threats to Izuku in the first chapter were something of a bluff.  If Izuku refused to listen, All for One would’ve been in quite a pinch - he certainly didn’t want to kill or Noumufy Izuku, and he had the feeling that “lock him in a vault and make him listen” wouldn’t work any better here than it did with his brother.  He did have other plans in case getting Izuku to agree to parley failed, but he was massively relieved when it worked.  (Izuku’s threat in Chapter 10, on the other hand, was definitely not a bluff.)

Gigantomachia saw the resemblance between Izuku and All for One the moment Izuku opened his mouth - not just in the contents of Izuku’s self-introduction, but Izuku’s voice itself.  As seen in canon, he has a very dramatic emotional reaction to hearing All for One’s voice; and while Izuku’s isn’t an obvious match, he could hear similar notes.  This was helped by the fact that Izuku was very tired and decided to start making threats, and was consciously using All for One as a model for those.  Gigantomachia’s easy initial acceptance of Izuku was mostly down to this (”He speaks with the voice of my Master”).  Of course, Izuku’s speech about not proving himself to everyone who asked did make something of an impression on its own merits.

As for the rest of the villains, Shigaraki and Kurogiri were the only ones close enough to All for One to notice Izuku’s resemblance to him (or care; if Dabi had any suspicions, he kept them to himself).  It took a few days after Izuku was left with the dictatorship for Shigaraki.  Kurogiri, on the other hand, noticed years ago - but decided it wasn’t his place to wonder about it, so he didn’t.

None of the villains guessed that Izuku was a close relative of All for One’s.  They all thought, at best, that he was some distant relative who All for One had taken an interest in and who happened to suit his plans.  They were immensely surprised by All for One’s choice of successor.

Shigaraki and Kurogiri got emails after All for One disappeared, too, not just Izuku.  All for One drafted them beforehand, as well as a few alternate versions for theoretical scenarios that didn’t happen.  Shigaraki’s gave him some sarcastic advice on how to make nice with the new Overlord, which worked surprisingly well.  Kurogiri’s included advice on Izuku’s preferred coffee brands, which also worked surprisingly well.

All for One had discussed a few things with Gigantomachia beforehand and so didn’t bother with an email - namely along the lines of, “I’m planning to make someone else the Supreme Overlord in my place.  Do what you want, but your life will be short and painful if he doesn’t stay in one piece.”

Shigaraki and Kurogiri spent most of their free time after All for One disappeared trying to track him down.  Izuku won their loyalty over time - or more accurately, having gainful employment and being surrounded by decent people while trying his best to behave himself helped Shigaraki feel less inclined toward villainy, and Kurogiri appreciated being given a fair chance at all.  However, Shigaraki in particular had many questions for All for One, and Kurogiri followed his lead.  Gigantomachia them helped out for a while, until…

Gigantomachia saw Izuku’s “father’s” signature, and realized he might’ve accidentally stumbled upon a secret that All for One would be happy to kill half of Japan over.  He smartly refrained from telling the other two, and pulled back somewhat on his assistance in their search.

When Gigantomachia met “Hisashi” in person for that trip to America, he sent a panicked text to Shigaraki that he wasn’t offering any more help and that they should stop going behind Izuku’s back if they truly valued their lives and limbs intact.  This sparked their decision to bring their research to Aizawa while Izuku was away.  Yagi’s assumption that they were afraid of Izuku’s reaction was entirely legitimate, but that wasn’t the full reason for their choice of timing.

One more note about Gigantomachia: When Izuku had his panic attack in Chapter 5, the reason Yagi showed up was because Gigantomachia made a beeline for his office and told him that the Supreme Overlord needed his help.  Yagi ran.

I honestly didn’t expect for the villains to take up so much of the fic (or this trivia).  I also was hoping to have more of Aizawa and Class 1-A in the story.  But since criminal rehabilitation ended up being such a focus, the villains ended up being particularly relevant.  I’m still a tiny bit annoyed about it.

How much did Inko know about Hisashi?  He tried to give her a similar story to the one he gave Izuku once he returned.  However, she knew him and his views well enough that she managed to get out of him that he wasn’t “working with villains” entirely under duress, and that he had done a few things to earn the enmity of “people who were after him”.  She was surprised when Izuku made All for One tell her the truth about his villain identity, but less than Izuku expected.

I don’t usually have soundtracks for my writing - I’ll put on whatever music I feel like listening to, or even nothing, depending on my mood.  However, for Chapter 10, I wrote most of it while listening to “Devastation and Reform” by Relient K on repeat.  I think it fits the self-inflicted tragedy that is All for One’s existence pretty well, and helped me capture the right tone for his side of the story.

Alright, a cheerier note is in order.  Originally, Chapter 6 (now the Social Media Chapter) was an utter slog of exposition that made me despair.  I ended up scrapping it and rewriting it as a social media interlude that communicated the stuff I wanted it to communicate, but I ended up cutting along with it a draft of the scene Hatsume’s video refers to.  Y’know, the one where Izuku sets an attempted assassin on fire.  It was indeed accidental - she was hounding Izuku to let her make the perfect Supreme Overlord outfit, and had shoved an ordinary-looking watch at him when the assassins showed up.  He threw the watch at one of them and it exploded.  Hatsume got yelled at by a tired Izuku afterward for endangering the paperwork he’d have to fill out all over again.

In the Discord conversation where I mentioned the initial concept of this fic, someone proposed a scenario in which Izuku starts crying in the middle of the UN because some representative was being an asshole about how Japan was being handled, and then everyone else would jump in to go, “Nice going, Rick, you ruined a perfectly good Supreme Overlord, now he has anxiety.”  I therefore decided that I would indeed make Izuku cry at the UN.  This was how the UN chapter came to exist.  Of course, in my version, the tears were because of the support Izuku got, and the good guy was named Rick.

Izuku setting someone on fire was also a concept I got from my favorite Discord server.  Several other people had Izuku setting people on fire in their stories.  I decided to join them.

Finally… you know how I abbreviated “Supreme Overlord” to “S.O.”?  Yes, I’m aware that the abbreviation usually stands for “Significant Other”, and I decided to go with it because I thought it was funny.  And a good way to embarrass Izuku even further.

I think that got all the major trivia and a few minor bits too.  Though I probably can dig out other things from my brain if people have questions; my askbox is open.  Otherwise, I’ve got a new prospective writing project in the concept stage, so I’ll switching mental gears off of WGP, I think.

[paulabelleflores]

Dance Like No Other

Sun was gaining more and more power, winter was fighting its last battles, spring was spreading slowly but steady and I felt like dancing. With my dogs, with the birds outside, with the delicate spring-flavoured wind.

Everybody should dance. At least twice a day. I do. It gives one such a rejuvenating feeling. Just like spring does.

The dance joyful energy filled my every cell and I felt the need to paint it. I started searching for protagonists for my painting story. Since I was always in awe with the elegance and the grace of ballerinas, I thought it would be a great idea to paint one.

Ora, the prima-ballerina I had chosen to model me for my painting was not a regular ballet dancer. She was special. A bit eccentric and really spoiled and stubborn, but extremely talented and devoted to her art. She lived for her ballet. And she wouldn't model for me by dancing with just any partner. She wanted the best one, because she wanted to give a performance to remember and that couldn't be done with a regular man. So I had traveled far and wide, searching/looking for what she asked for. And just the moment I wanted to quit, he appeared in front of my eyes: the red-crowned crane, Akio, from Japan. His dance was exquisite. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. My presence didn't seem to bother him. He was so absorbed in his dance that he, probably, hadn't even noticed me. I felt like my quest was over! There he was: someone who not only danced like no other but who was, also, so passionate about what he was doing that everything disappeared around him while he danced.

The fact that he was a crane, was a bit of a problem at first. But we overcame that. After many discussions (lucky me he was a good English speaker), Akio agreed to be my ballerina's partner and so I introduced them to one another. They spent some time togheter to get to know each other so they could bond in the spring-celebration dance they would perform for me to paint.

Akio told Ora that his kind has been dancing since the beginning of time and they consider dance a sacred thing. In their society, they dance for sheer joy, celebrating life. Otherwise, they only dance with their mate. Their unison dance is a celebration of their love, a ritual the pair will perform together many times over the years, to strengthen their lifelong bond. Parents teach their babies to dance and young cranes practice dancing for years before they choose a mate. Akio was a young crane who didn't have a mate, yet, but he had an innate dancing talent.

Ora had also found out that the red-crowned crane was on the brink of extinction in Japan due to hunting and the destruction of their natural marshland habitat for agricultural development. But, happily, the Japanese people took action and, in 1920, a group of farmers started feeding the birds in the wild. The crane population grew and nowadays there are over a thousand birds in Hokkaido region in Japan, but they are totally dependant on humans for food during the winter, therefore their future is still uncertain.

Many other interesting things did Ora find out that day, like the impressive wingspan of Akio, that is 2.5 m, his height that is about 1.58 m, that the red patch on his head is not a feather but bare skin, or that the red-crowned crane is one of the longest-living species of bird, living up to 30-40 years in the wild or up to 70 years in captivity.

When Ora's time to talk came, she didn't know what to share.  She wanted to tell so many things but she had to choose the most relevant ones. And...she did. In her way. Akio learned that she was the only child and maybe that's why she was so stubborn and spoiled, that she wasn't a natural brunette (I don't know why she considered that an important thing to share, but she did) and that her secret wish was to ride a bear. Her favourite ballet piece was Stravinsky's “The Rite of Spring”. That was not such a surprise, knowing her, but, even if she would have liked “Swan Lake” the most, she couldn't have said that to a crane.  Akio had also found out that even if the ballet dancers are typically known for their grace, poise, and dedication, they are incredibly strong and probably are the strongest athletes out there, as several studies had found. One mustn't be fooled by the delicate appearance of a ballerina. They are really tough, both physically and mentally. Ballet is such a complex art sport that many athletes take ballet lessons to improve their performances. To name a few: Eddie George, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Barry Sanders. Also, The Chicago Bulls used to train with the Joffrey Ballet troupe in the off-season during the Michael Jordan Era.

I definitely have to google for Arnold, the ballet dancer, to see if she was not making things up because, sometimes, she really seems to live in her own fabricated world.

That was all the sharing Ora did. She wanted to say so much more but she couldn't decide what, so she stopped.

But the crane was pleased with the things he learned and they started to dance and I started to paint. They totally completed each other: the most graceful dancers from two different worlds dancing like one. A strange but superb duet. At the end of one week, my painting was ready, but the Ora and Akio hadn't noticed I finished. They kept on dancing like no other couple had ever done. I left leaving them moving gracefully under the blossomed cherry tree. They were a weird pair. But perfect.

[arkt-nehrim-archive]

For the asking thing: Thoughts on Lexil Merrayil? :3

I adore Lexil.  He’s -brilliant-, and he felt very genuine to me compared to other characters. He was always happy to see us, -thankful- that we came back in one piece, and sets himself up to be trying as hard as you are even while not giving himself the credit of -honestly carrying nearly this whole thing himself-. I really feel like more could’ve/should’ve been done with him. And I don’t just mean for like, content that could’ve been added in Forgotten Stories, I mean from a -total- narrative sense too. This might get lengthy. And also spoilers, so many spoilers.

  The Star City, for example.  Lexil clearly showed interest and ability in being able to go along for that trip, but instead his mentor/mother figure Yaela gets shoe-horned in as a random expert in Starlings, when if -she mentored him-, Lexil could’ve have just as easily been.  “Didn’t he need to stay to work on the Beacon?”  Development on the Beacon was at a stand-still at the time, he would’ve been free to go on the trip with you. Cue actually getting to speak to him on the ship, and the opportunity for a romance dialogue -if- there had been one as an option for him (providing us tall ass Aeterna players with a not borked cute scene).  Carrying forward into the journey where -he- would’ve figured out the everything, with -all- the relevant data running amok in his head since he’s basically been doing 90% of the work here and it -could’ve- been a stressful thing. Not this “GASP! I FIGURED IT OUT!  -barfs exposition out of nowhere coming to conclusions for the sake of plot convenience over it actually making any sense to magically know these things off of some pictures that could definitely be interpreted in like 20 different ways-”.  Lexil, you, and Jespar/Calia could’ve spent that 12 hour window to explore and get back to the ship smacking your collective heads against the wall to figure this out, having another moment that Enderal prizes so much to truly -discuss- and potentially argue your points, before Lexil (after hearing all the counsel) could more -realistically- come to the conclusions that Yaela came to.  Oh no!  The big dragon boss reeeee!   Now there’s a character defining scary moment where you can CHOOSE to either leave Lexil behind to hold the line while you escape -OR-, if you got the chops for it, -fight the lvl 100 Steel Dragon- with your best pal Lexil, getting to finally show him in -combat- for once, paired up with your choice of bestie. “But wait, if we chose to let Lexil die, how would we finish the Beacon-”  YAELA! Who could be JUST as sad about losing her basically adoptive son to Tealor’s magical adventure quest to be famous save the world, and -she- could finish the Beacon. Or Yuslan could, I mean he contributes quite a lot too, especially when we hit snags. Oooor, we beat the boss and Lexil is proven a total badass that we -all know him to be-. But wait then why would they have any reason to flee in the drop pods?  Easy!  The steel beast still destroyed the ship and there’s no other way down, plus the alarms are still in play at that point (thanks Kurmai), so it’s not like it isn’t still dangerous to be there. It could’ve given him -such- a deeper role to play even if that was the only quest we got to really -do- with him out in the field.  Alas~  Such is only the dreamy realm of headcanon. Before I stop, I want to add in that Lexil had an effect on me that’s -never- happened in a videogame, ever.  And that was at the -end-.  Already striking was just -seeing- the Cleansing happening, but it’ll be forever burned into my memory seeing that subtitle at the bottom of my screen, “Lexil Merrayil: -wheeze-” I whirled my camera around trying to find him, and by some awful luck, he was -centered- in my camera in such a way that took my damn breath away. He looked like he might’ve been running for the very place I was going, before he collapsed. Took the few steps needed to get closer to him, in which I saw just how awful he looked; the shivering I remember the most.  It froze me solid, I just couldn’t -do- anything for -minutes- while the Beacon roared in the backround and that heart-wrenching music played, and somehow, for whatever reason, -all- of my failures and triumphs up to this moment in the game did not feel like -this-.  I felt awful that I didn’t even -know- a healing spell, in the off chance that would help. I couldn’t bring myself to try to put him out of his misery, despite the obvious terrible pain he was in.  I don’t honestly remember what happened after, at some point I had to have moved, because I finished the game.  But I legit barely recollect between waiting there with Lexil aaand waking up in the Star City for the Brave New World ending, it’s all a haze. Maybe it was the fact of anybody I’d encountered, he well and truly -did not deserve this-. It made me wonder what sort of writer would -want- to write that. And y’know, some people think that helplessness expressed in their stories is provocative and -good-; and for some it -is-.  For me it’s...overdone and unnecessary, as its so often accompanying other tragic circumstances that are already bad enough on their own.  Lexil’s situation was obviously no different, I mean. The Cleansing and all that. Yes, some writers desire to load their stories up with grimdark awfulness, that’s tragedy as a genre in a nutshell, some kind of reminder of “real life” where bad things happen and you can’t do anything about it.  Buuut... Lexil was a bit much in a game with several other prior character deaths, one of which is a -suicide-, another a -child-. There’s a point when it is -too much-, even for a tale of that genre, -especially- in a conclusion that just ends in -everyone- dying. Lexil’s fate required such a disconnect that I don’t really remember the end, as I said, and I still haven’t been able to go back and play again, because everytime I see that Beacon at the beginning, I think of Lexil and the fate that awaits him and me; it puts this firm -stop- into it that questions what about another trip through could possibly be worth it when -that- is the end? And it -sucks-, because Enderal is such a fun game! I genuinely -loved- it, up until that. It’s one of the greatest games I’ve ever played, but man... Lexil.   How’s the saying go?  Straw that broke the camel’s back?  Maybe one day I’ll manage to play again, but so far I never make it past that first meet with Jespar.

Huuh. Wow, that got long winded.  So uhm, to answer the question.  Lexil Merrayil left quite an impression. He’s very special to me; if not just for being a solid, under appreciated character, than for the emotions he invoked. I really wish he got a better hand dealt to him, but, alas.

@cat-with-a-keyboard   Thank you!  Apologies for the feels trip! 

[venusofthehardsells]

Dreamgirl [part 3]

ReaderxBucky Barnes [part 2] Summary: Bucky tries to adjust to his new life in the Avengers compound. One day he meets a girl who might be everything he needs in order to move on, but is his past really that far away? Warnings: NONCON in this chapter - if you are triggered by or uncomfortable with this DO NOT READ, death, masturbation, psychological manipulation, violence, vomit A/N: Holy goat, this took forever to write. Thank you so much for all your comments and your patience! ♥ This chapter was really difficult for me to get through and I won’t be surprised if this is not your cup of tea - I’m not even sure it’s mine at this point. Maybe chapter four will be kinder to Bucky. Who knows anymore. Let me know your thoughts ~

The run back to the compound is a complete blur. Bucky is drenched in sweat when he throws himself into the last empty chair in the briefing room, one minute before the clock hits the hour. He avoids looking at Steve altogether; he can’t bear it, the concern from his friend. Instead he spends the entire briefing staring at Stark as if he is actually saying something of importance, which he never does. Nothing relevant to him at least. Bucky is still not ready for field duty. It’s just about the only thing he can agree on with Stark. It doesn’t make much sense for him to be there at all, but Steve and Fury insist. Something about keeping him in the loop, in case he suddenly becomes fit for going on team missions. So he shows up and he tries to care.

But today, he doesn’t hear a word Stark or any of the SHIELD agents are saying. His running clothes are strangling him. He keeps checking the time on every screen within view, watching the digital numbers change every minute. How did it get so late in the day? He almost doesn’t dare blink, afraid the hours will vanish again in a brief second of inattentiveness. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t piece the morning together properly. He was talking to her… God, the mere thought of her makes him dizzy, everything from the scent of her perfume, to her sweet smile, to the little yellow hearts on her nails. Is it possible that he was so far gone fantasising about her that he lost himself that deeply? Could he have been asleep in his seat without realising it? No, he’s pretty sure the coffee cup was empty when he left. He doesn’t remember drinking it though. His head pounds and he vaguely thinks this is what a really bad hangover used to feel like. The sweat from the run back dries on his body as he sits there and when Tony Stark finally wraps up, Bucky feels cold as ice. Despite the hour and his long sleeves, his teeth are almost rattling in his skull. Worse is he can tell how bad he is starting to smell and it’s making his stomach roll and lunge inside of him, or at least it feels like it. If he had eaten any breakfast, he’s sure it would have been on the floor by now. He ought to get lunch though, to make up for the meal. Bucky considers it for less than a second. He knows he should eat, that he needs to with his crazy super metabolism and all, but he cannot remember ever having felt less hungry. The mere idea of food, the taste of greasy fried bacon, rubbery texture of eggs in the mouth, even the slightest thought of that fucking smell of cooking oil, fuck, it’s enough to make him sick. As soon as people start to leave, Bucky is out of the door, ignoring Steve’s call of his name. He jumps into the first bathroom he passes and flings himself into a stall, not a second too late. He pukes into the toilet the moment his head is horizontal and it just won’t stop. Even though there’s nothing in his stomach save a bit of coffee, his body wants it gone. Badly. His flesh hand shakes holding onto the edge of the basin. The metal one is a little more calm, but he can tell his thumb has made an indent in the porcelain. Was it always this bad to throw up? He can’t recall, he hasn’t done it in seventy years. Whatever HYDRA pumped into him has kept him healthy and fit and mercifully out of situations like this. Bucky keeps heaving for several more minutes even though there’s nothing to chuck up. Just when he is sure all of his entrails are about to fall out through his mouth, the cramps finally let up and he sits back against the wall, the sour taste in his mouth almost enough to set him off again. He runs a hand through his hair; it’s sticking to his forehead and his neck in the cold sweat that has erupted all over him. “Bucky?... Are you in there, pal?” Even though he knows Steve has seen him at his absolute worst, he tries to pull himself together. As quick as he can without stumbling he gets on his feet and splashes some cold water in his face. Takes a few slurps from the tap too to clear his mouth. The man staring back at him from the mirror above the sink is paler than he remembers, and his eyes are a little wider, but otherwise Bucky doesn’t look as out of sorts as he feels. “I’m okay, Steve,” he answers with a strain in his voice as he exits the stall. Steve doesn’t look too convinced, standing against the wall with his arms crossed and a frown on his face. “You sure?” “Yeah. All good. Probably just need some more sleep.” He shrugs and realises that he does in fact feel exhausted. “I, uh… might have overdone the running a little bit.” “How long were you gone?” Bucky bites back a remark about minding his own business. “Left around five-ish I think,” he says in what he hopes is a casual tone that hides his annoyance. And the fact that the nausea is bubbling back up already. “Jesus Christ…” Steve runs a hand through his perfect blonde hair, looking equally concerned and impressed. “That’s almost seven hours Buck! That ain’t a run, that’s…” His voice stops short of whatever word he was about to say, but Bucky can guess. Torture. Self-harm. Inhuman… They hold each other’s gazes across the bathroom for a moment of hard-strung silence, before Steve averts his eyes. “It’s a problem,” he says then, clearly using all of his self-control to sound somewhat calm. Bucky wishes for the millionth time that Steve wouldn’t try so damn hard. His old friend is walking on eggshells around him and it’s driving him up the wall. The small army of therapists and doctors working on him already treat him like a brittle antiquity and the other Avengers as though he’s some sort of unstable explosive. Stark is the only one who doesn’t seem to care if he breaks or blows up and it would be refreshing if it wasn’t for the fact that every one of his vicious jibes and insults makes Bucky feel like less than the dirt under Stark’s shoes. Of course, he deserves it, there’s no doubt in Bucky’s mind about that; sometimes one of the others tells Stark to back off, but Bucky doesn’t see the point. He is a killer, he is a monster. Should he ever forget it, they’re all there to remind him with their caution and their adjusted voices. Bucky Barnes is still not really human, is he? If only Steve, of all people, would just treat him normally, he’s sure it wouldn’t be so excruciating to exist. He bites down on his lip. “Yeah, well, like I said… I needed the extra time.” Bucky fights the urge to cross his arms and sticks his hands into his pockets instead. To think that he was almost happy only this morning. “Bucky, you know you can talk to me about-,” Steve starts, but Bucky cuts him off before he begins to sound too much like one of his shrinks. “Stark’s parents, okay?,” he all but hisses, no longer able to look Steve in the eyes. “I dreamt about Stark’s parents again, saw their faces and I just… forget it. I’m fine, Steve.” His voice almost cracks at the last words. He needs to find another bathroom without Steve in it so he can puke his guts out in peace. The way Steve looks at him, hurt, shocked, utterly helpless, feels a little bit better than stepping on a landmine and almost having both feet blown off, but only a little. Bucky can’t bear it. Before Steve manages an answer, Bucky pushes past him out of the bathroom and down the hall as quickly as possible. Moments later, he hauls himself into his own room and locks the door behind him. A weary air of guilt, worn threadbare over the past few months, scrunches his features as he trudges to the toilet, kneels down and vomits again. It’s quite fitting for how sick he feels when he thinks of Steve’s expression - the single constant in his life and he’s screwing that up too. Steve just wants to help him. It’s a quality in very short supply and Bucky knows he should value it more than he has done so far. He should try to be more open, more cooperative. After all, it’s Steve… When his stomach stops fighting, he peels off his clothes and crawls into the shower for the second time that day. It’s quickly becoming the only place he feels remotely comfortable. No one to judge him but himself, no dreams but the ones he chooses. As the water starts to trickle down his body, he begins to relax. It takes longer than usual, he’s already so worked up from the day and it’s not even two pm yet. But he forces himself to let go of everything, at least for a little while. His muscles unclench slowly as he lets all thoughts seep from his mind until he is thoroughly unburdened in the little safe space of steam and water. Bucky’s flesh hand glides down between his legs and takes hold of his cock. Practicality tells him an orgasm will help him loosen up enough to maybe catch up on a little sleep before dinner and still, he hesitates. He knows exactly what he wants to see, who he wants to see, but he’s afraid to try and imagine her. It’s okay, it’s just a fantasy. Bucky groans and gives himself an uncertain pump, then another. I won’t mind, James. You can think of me. Let me help you feel good… Her whisper in his head is as clear as if she had been standing behind him, breathing the words on his neck. He can almost feel her hands glide down his shoulders, his arms, until they close around his wrist and gently makes him let go. Let me take care of it for you. Her much softer hands replaces his own around his cock and he can feel her body press into his back, her lips on his shoulder, her nipples against his skin, her hip nudging his ass, her arms tight around him, her scent of coffee and floral perfume filling up the air. He hardens in her grip before she even starts moving. See? You need this. It’s okay, James, I think of you too. “Fuck…” The way her fingers slide up the underside of his length, trailing the vein there with her painted nails is almost painful and he moans loudly. Do you want to know what I imagine? What I think of whit my fingers inside of me? Bucky can’t hold the sounds back anymore. He groans at the images flashing through his head, of her hands that he has already touched now stroking him so intimately, and dear god, those same fingers disappearing into her slick, warm folds while his name falls from her lips. He moans again and thrusts his hips up a little to meet her strokes, bites down hard on his lip when her thumb traces the head of his cock. Both of her hands work relentlessly on him, one fast, one slow and he can feel every muscle in him contract until he’s trembling and the only thing on his mind is the release he desperately needs. I think of this, she whispers and the words are a brief chill on the back of his neck beneath the heat of the shower and the heat building inside of him. I think of this big, hard cock inside of me, stretching me… There is a bit of hot water running into his open mouth as he throws his head back, but he hardly notices anymore. He is panting, nearing. His legs are shaking. He is so close, he’s going to- …stretching me so good, filling me up until I- He cries out with the release before he can stop himself and his vision flashes into white. The force of his orgasm is so intense he staggers and leans on the tile wall. Cum covers both his shuddering hands and his stomach. It takes a while for the shower water to get rid of it all; he watches the white fluid slowly run and circle into the drain like a peppermint swirl. Bucky can’t remember the last time he came so hard, but then again, he can’t remember the last time he came from a fantasy of this kind either. Her smile when she looked at him from behind the counter in the coffee shop is the only thing he sees as he turns off the water and towels himself dry. A part of him feels like a creep for having used her to get off, or at least the image of her, but Bucky is so tired of feeling guilty and at the same time, he can’t help but hope she really does think of him, too. Guilt is too easy, he decides as he wraps the towel around his hips and leaves the bathroom. His life has become one long agonising guilt-trip for simply being alive and while he is still adamant he is to blame for all that Stark and everyone else accuses him of, he is starting to feel sick of it. Maybe she can be the one person he doesn’t have to feel guilty about. If he can allow himself as much, that sliver of normalcy she offers with her sweetness and her adoring eyes, perhaps somewhere in the chaos of the twenty-first century even Bucky Barnes has a chance of healing. “Do you honestly believe that?” The voice makes him snap his head up. He briefly meets his own startled gaze in the mirror above his desk and in the span of a single heartbeat, every trace of warmth is gone from Bucky’s body. Right there, behind him, in his room in the compound is the monster that haunts his dreams and sometimes his waking hours too: staring back at Bucky from above the edge of the black mask covering half his face, are the cold, calculating eyes of the Asset. “No… how…” “I’m never far away.” Bucky watches in silent terror as the Asset takes four almost languid steps towards him and stops right behind him. “This mind…” The Asset lifts two silver metal fingers and taps Bucky’s temple. “…isn’t just yours. Not anymore.” “Shut up,” he manages weakly and even with the mask on, Bucky can tell the Asset is smirking. “It’s been a long time, but I gotta hand it to you. This new life is quite comfortable. I’m especially gonna enjoy that pretty little plaything of yours. Looked real good in that tight skirt today, didn’t she?” The word doesn’t exist in Bucky’s cache of languages to describe the dread flooding his veins then. There’s no longer blood inside of him, only ice water that bites and rips as it courses through him. His hands are gripping the edge of the desk so tightly it’s a wonder it doesn’t splinter. “Don’t… don’t touch…,” he tries, but his voice is sticking in his throat like a knife with a serrated edge that hurts worse the more he fights to get it out. “Or what?” The Asset slowly turns his head and Bucky follows the direction of his eyes in the mirror, somehow already knowing what is happening, what he is going to find. His galloping heart nearly crashes through his chest anyway. She’s lying on the bed behind them. Asleep, Bucky realises with rising panic, no longer wearing the work uniform, but instead a silky little one-piece that drapes to show off every single detail of her body from the point of her hip to the rounds of her soft nipples. His girl sleeping in his bed, wearing something for only him to see. And he wishes she were anywhere else. A contented sigh escapes her mouth and she turns a little, making the delicate fabric drag enough to allow him the conclusion she hasn’t bothered with underwear. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Barnes. Quite the little dreamgirl, isn’t she?” “No…” The Asset sits down on the edge of the bed and reaches a gloved hand out to rest on her thigh. She hums in her sleep as that monster slowly strokes her skin, inching closer and closer to her barely covered folds. He raises an eyebrow without looking away from Bucky and dips his fingers beneath the fabric, starting to draw languid circles there. Bucky wants to rip the entire arm off him. He wants to call out her name, tell her to run, but the words keep lodging themselves somewhere behind his lips and the Asset just sits there calmly, working her clit while watching him with satisfied triumph gleaming in his eyes. “Do you think she dreams of us?,” the Asset almost purrs as she lets out a moan in her sleep and bucks her hips up to meet his movements. “Stop it,” Bucky whispers, his entire face contorted in rage. It is as if he is frozen in place in front of the mirror; both of his hands are locked around the edge of the desk that he wants to fling into the Asset’s smug face and his feet are solidly planted on the floor. He can’t move. Only watch as the Asset starts to rub her clit faster and the sound she makes when she finally comes undone has him hardening beneath the towel. Then the scent of her cum washes over him and he has to bite back a moan of his own. It makes his knees go weak. “I don’t think I want to stop, Barnes. Your little squeeze is delicious.” The Asset holds up his hand so that Bucky can clearly see the white cum running down the black glove. “And she seems to like it, doesn’t she?” White-hot anger surges through Bucky’s frozen body as the Asset takes a deep breath of her essence covering his fingers. Get away from her, he shouts inside his head; blood is thundering so hard in his ears that he almost misses her confused little voice. “James?...” She looks at the Asset, then meets Bucky’s eyes in the mirror. Her heartrate is faster than normal, probably the aftershock of the orgasm. “What’s happening?” “Get out…,” he wheezes in that strained, almost-not-there-voice that is all he can manage to force out. What is wrong with him? Her eyes widen when she realises his panic and she moves to get off the bed. She doesn’t even make it to the side before the Asset grabs her shoulder and drags her back. “Not so fast, pretty girl.” She shrieks as the assassin pushes her back down into the mattress and quickly straddles her before she can roll away. “I’m gonna have a little more fun with you.” “Let go of me!,” she hisses and lashes out at his face, at the mask, but the Asset easily captures her wrist in his silver metal hand before she can make contact and pins it above her head. “Not yet,” he says quietly, getting hold of her other wrist as well. She is completely locked beneath him. The Asset takes his time to admire the view before him, seeming to relish in the way she squirms uselessly between his legs. “James, please. Help me,” she begs, her voice unsteady and shrill and it rips at Bucky’s very soul to hear. He is trembling in place, but that’s all. Why can’t he just fucking move?! The Asset grabs the crotch of her flimsy one-piece and tears through it, pushing it out of the way. She immediately struggles harder, but the Asset merely squashes her wrists tighter and she cries out in pain. Stop hurting her, Bucky mouths desperately. Nothing but air comes out of his mouth, but he’s sure the Asset can hear him. Let go of her, you have me, you can do whatever you want to me, kill me if you like, just don’t hurt her. The Asset audibly chuckles and turns his head to meet Bucky’s gaze in the mirror. “You shouldn’t have shown her to me, Barnes. What is yours, is mine.” He undoes a buckle and a zipper with casual indifference only using his flesh hand. The motion is efficient and Bucky knows from the worst, most repressed parts of his memories that it’s from experience. He always lies whenever people asks him if he remembers all the people The Winter Soldier killed, tells them yes, because he cannot bear to unearth certain victims yet without surely shattering himself beyond repair. When the Asset frees his cock from its restraints of his gear, already hard and leaking, and lines himself up with her exposed entrance, the faces of all those forgotten victims seeps back into Bucky’s mind and he wants to die. It would be easier than to face those ghosts, the ones he didn’t just kill but wishes he had. Please, just let go of her! You can have this body, I don’t care. I won’t fight you for it if you let her go. Listen to me!, he yells inside his head, but the Asset doesn’t acknowledge it. Don’t fucking touch her! “James, help me!,” the girl cries, the one that isn’t a ghost, the one he hasn’t… “You don’t have to do this, please don’t do this, just let me go… let me go, no! Stop, please, no! No!” Her words disappears into a scream when the Asset plunges into her in one unforgiving thrust. He leans back and closes his eyes, savouring the feeling of her tight walls around him. Bucky clenches his own eyes shut at the sight, flinching with every cry and sob the Asset now wrings from her as he starts to thrust his hips at a brutal pace without letting her adjust properly. He can’t look at it. He can’t stand there and look at the Asset hurting his girl and not being able to stop it without going mad. The sound of her crying is bad enough. “Wanna know how good she feels?,” the Asset growls and the sobs turn back into screams. Bucky immediately knows he’s made her cum. Again. Even in his petrified state of terror and disgust, the thought of her warm, silken cunt throbbing around his length almost makes him see stars and he can’t remember a time he has ever been more ashamed of himself. “Stop it,” he gets out, choking on the words and the fear and the wrath. Please just stop it. “But I’m not done with her yet. I’m sure she has more to give,” the Asset says between breaths. Instead of slowing down his thrusts, he increases the force behind each movement, jolting her body harshly each time he bottoms out. “Come on, pretty girl, you can take more than this. Don’t hold back on me.” Bucky can tell from the desperate, high-pitched sounds she’s trying to stifle that he is not letting her come down from the orgasm. Instead, he pushes her right into the next one. Tears are streaming from her tightly shut eyes as the high shoots through her and the Asset still doesn’t let up. He let’s go of her wrists and grabs a hold of her throat instead; the metal fingers closes easily around her neck, unyielding despite how she now claws and scratches at his lethal prosthetic. He is far enough above her for her fingers to only graze the mask in her turmoil. Somehow, Bucky’s eyes have managed to fall open again and he almost wishes he could gorge them out entirely. Let go, you’ll kill her! She’s gasping for breath through the tight grasp on her throat, her struggle slowly growing weaker. “She wouldn’t be the first,” is all the Asset answers before he reaches down and pinches her clit. The sound that escapes her then is so horrifyingly raw and desperate Bucky can’t believe it’s coming from the same girl who had in a soft, sweet voice asked him about something as mundane as coffee.  Her back arches off the bed and her arms and legs flail in a vain attempt to get his hand away from her overstimulated bundle of nerves. It’s too much. Every part of her is shaking violently under the unbroken string of orgasms the Asset forces out of her pinned down body. He lets out a groan and his hips finally begin to stutter and lose their ruthless pace. He lifts his hand from between her legs and for half a second, Bucky thinks it’s over, that he’s finally done with her. She will be in pain, but she’s alive. They both are. That’s all that matters. He has already pricked his finger on the peak of relief when the Asset raises his flesh hand and removes the mask. She stops struggling. Stops heaving for breath. Her bloodshot eyes just stare up at the face of the man she knows as James in shocked disbelief as her arms fall limply to her sides. The Asset’s lips spread in a sinister smile as he watches the fight leave her completely. He thrusts into her one final time, spilling his cum with a deep groan and his metal hand tightens on her throat until her eyes roll back in her head and she goes still. There is a strangled cry, like a small animal being trod on, and Bucky realises the sound is coming from himself. You… you killed her… The vicious grin on the Asset’s face turns into a knowing smirk. “Did I?” Bucky tries once again to free his hands from their cramped hold of the edge of the desk, only to find that he’s no longer standing at it. Instead, his eyes are looking right down at his own dark vibranium fingers clutching the dead girl’s neck. His knees are solidly planted on the bed, her body trapped beneath him, his cock still inside of her… With an agonised howl, Bucky sits up in the bed and stares at an empty room. His heart is thumping so hard and rapidly against his ribs, his entire frame trembles with it. The images from the nightmare flashes before his eyes every time he blinks and he rubs them in the hope that they’ll leave him alone. Both his hands come away wet with tears. This has been the worst dream he has had in months. He slowly clenches and unclenches his shaking hands to make sure they still obey. That they wouldn't somehow… She wouldn't be the first. He curls into a mess of sheets and limbs and pillows and let the crying rake through him. Everything hurts. It's hard just to get air into his lungs. There is a gentle tap on the d,or, so quiet he almost misses it. "Buck? Pal, you in there?," comes Steve's soft voice. "You didn't come down for dinner and… I, uh… Bucky, I just… if I was outta line earlier, I'm sorry. Don't want to bother you, I just gotta know if we're good?" A particularly violent sob leaves Bucky before he can prevent it and Steve's enhanced hearing picks it up immediately. He opens the door carefully, giving Bucky time enough to tell him to go to hell, but he doesn't.  "Oh, Buck," Steve sighs when he sees his friend and quickly shuts the door again, before kneeling down next to the tangled heap of bedding and supersoldier. Bucky reaches out with his flesh hand and grabs onto Steve's shirt  "Don't leave," he manages almost desperately between sobs, afraid of how gravelly his voice sounds, afraid it'll disappear again. "Of course not." Steve settles in next to him and places an arm around Bucky, awkwardly at first because of Bucky's wrapped up fetal position, but with a bit of shuffling and wiggling they make it work.  "Of course I'd never leave you."

From Alhabor’s private notes, page torn out and crumbled: I miscalculated today’s dose. Not enough to kill him which would have been a fucking nightmare. Didn’t include it in the report, hope I won’t have to. Must be more careful from now on. Too close to the target for mistakes at this rate.

Tags will be added in reblog ~

[i-just-like-commenting]

The Witcher review

When I first read critics’ reviews of this show, they seemed to fall into two camps: non-fantasy fans who dismissed it as nonsense, and fantasy fans who said it got good but took a while to get there. Knowing I was a fantasy fan, I figured I might be in the latter camp, and started watching it. Casually at first, one episode a day, taking a break for Christmas…and then about halfway through I was hooked and marathoned the rest of the series. I genuinely liked this series…but it has problems, and I can see why it lost a lot of non-fantasy fans from the outset. Let’s get the bad out of the way first so I can gush about the good.

Barriers of Entry

Most TV viewers are not fantasy readers. Those of us who are may regret that, but it’s not a genre that everyone gets into, and it has its own storytelling quirks that can be off-putting to newcomers. This is why, for all that it failed in later seasons, Game of Thrones did well for general viewers in its early seasons. The small bit of fantasy hinted at isn’t all that different from the zombie films people are used to, and the rest feels mostly like period piece drama. Magic only gets introduced gradually, with an explanation of what it is and how it works as it’s introduced. Also, there’s a map.

The Witcher doesn’t have any of that scaffolding. It is full high fantasy, magic-heavy, thick in world-building from the very instant it opens. It explains very little about anything; by the end of season 1 I don’t know what Cirilla’s powers are, how Witchers are made, or what the Conjunction of the Spheres is that gets repeatedly mentioned. Now, as a fantasy reader I’m used to this; ideas and supernatural mysteries get introduced and not explained until later because the characters in-universe understand the and don’t need an explanation. All I need to know is that Cirilla has some dangerous power that Nilfgaard wants, that Witchers are made and not born, and that the Conjunction is an important thing that happened in the past that may be relevant in the future. Presumably all will be made clear in time.

But I really would’ve liked a map. Up until the penultimate episode we’ve no idea of what this place looks like, how everything is connected to each other. It makes the stakes of Nilfgaard’s invasion harder to fathom. How big are they as a kingdom? How at risk are the Northern Kingdoms? How many Northern Kingdoms are there? A few map shots in the first episode as Calanthe prepares for war, a few more as the series progresses, all of that would have helped situate the story and have it feel more grounded spatially.

As for temporally…

Timeline Shenanigans

I have no problem with this series choosing to have three different timelines for its three different characters that don’t meet up in the “present” until the final episode. Certainly there have been excellent series that have done this in the past (N.K. Jemisin’s Fifth Season comes to mind). But time stamps would’ve been really nice. Let the first episode play out as it does, but when we jump back to Ciri for the last time, have a heading that says “30 years later,” confirming to the audience what they suspect from some throwaway lines about Calanthe, that this is taking place much earlier than Ciri’s scenes. Do the same when Yennefer is introduced, keep updating how far along we are with Geralt’s story, not just to clarify the timeline but to also build suspense as the viewers realize that the plotlines are catching up to each other.

However that wouldn’t fix all the problems inherent to the time-jumping. Between episodes 5 and 6 we find out, for example, that Yennefer and Geralt have met several times already and are pretty heavily involved with each other. It works well enough because the actors are very good, but it’s a bit “oh, really?” when you find that out.

Likewise, I have no idea how long Jaskier has been around having an obvious crush on annoying Geralt; is it months? Years? I think it’s years, because that’s the same time frame for Geralt and Yennefer’s hookups, but maybe it wasn’t that long? And how long did Yennefer’s education take? When did her immortality kick in? How much time passed between Geralt and Yennefer breaking up and Geralt deciding to seek out Ciri? Was it right before? Years later? How old is Jaskier supposed to be at this point? Was Yennefer’s joke about crow lines an indication he’s approaching middle age? Time stamps!

This show is really lucky it had as good a cast as it did to carry it through these narrative issues.

Special Effects

The elves, hedgehog people, and fauns all look…bad. Like, almost Halloween costume bad. Don’t know what else to say. The other effects were really good, so they stuck out.

But now let’s talk about how this series rocked:

Have I mentioned this cast is fantastic?

So my interest in Henry Cavill may have been less than high-minded, but he is in fact absolutely fantastic in this. The show also walks that fine line with “jerk with a heart of gold” characters where it explains their dickishness without excusing it. We understand that with the life he’s led and the discrimination he’s faced why Geralt is cold and aloof, but we also see how being that way destroys his relationships with people he cares for, especially in episode 6. And Cavill manages to convey perfectly how, at the moment he sees Ciri, Geralt realizes that his whole life has been leading up to him taking on this role as protector and guardian. He needs someone to need him, even if that terrifies him.

And then there’s Anya Chalotra as Yennefer who you might call a deuteragonist since she doesn’t show up until the second episode and isn’t the title character, but honestly the show is as much about her as it is about Geralt. You start with her as an abused child with a spinal deformity who thinks she’s unimportant and worthless. You have her trying to conform herself to the purposes others give her, literally changing her body to meet their expectations, failing, flailing about trying to find a purpose, and then in the final episode landing on the grim realization that she is the only one who can protect all the Northern Kingdoms. It’s an excellent arc, even with the timeskips sometimes making it not as smooth a one as it might have been. Again we have Anya Chalotra to thank for making it work in spite of the narrative missteps.

Even Freya Allen, though she doesn’t get much to do plotwise, does a great job portraying the internality of Ciri’s journey this season, as she slowly realizes her beloved grandmother may have, in fact, been terrible – but that this doesn’t justify what was done to them.

Relationships you can root for

Two broken and emotionally distant people learning to break down their barriers and be vulnerable to each other? Sign me up, nothing is hotter. I really like Geralt and Yennefer, and I honestly hope they find common purpose together next season and realize that, wish or no wish, they’re good for each other and should try to work it out.

But Jaskier and Geralt’s relationship is honestly great, too. While I don’t think they’re sexually interested in each other and therefore this counts more as a “bromance,” I also hate the term “bromance” and prefer to just say that their unacknowledged but obvious affection for each other is charming. I’m guessing Jaskier will come back later? Maybe he was just in the short stories they use here, but that would be a shame.

The soundtrack “slaps” – that’s the term young people are using, right?

While “Toss a Coin to Your Witcher” is attaining meme status and so many Youtube listens that it threatens to break into Billboard’s charts, let’s not forget how all the music in this series is so good. Like, literally, even if you can’t get into the show at all because of its other problems, check out this score, it’s amazing. It is incredibly frustrating that it’s not up on Spotify yet, though a few tracks are available on Youtube.

Its total embrace of being a fantasy series

And here we come back round to the beginning of my review. While Game of Thrones did well in its early seasons by easing its audience into its fantasy setting, as seasons went on it seemed progressively more and more embarrassed that it had to be a fantasy story. The Stark children’s warg powers are forgotten, prophecies are removed, the House of the Undying is reduced to like one room, bye-bye krakens and any kind of water magic, Euron’s just a pirate now, and who is this Lady Stoneheart you speak of? They even dispensed with the big final threat of the White Walkers as quickly and unceremoniously as possible, just so they could get back to the politics.

The Witcher, on the other hand, is a fantasy series from its first frame to its last and loves it. There’s monsters and magic everywhere, Destiny sets everything up to follow fairy tale rules, and humans share the world with multiple other sentient species. It does not apologize for this, and it has a very lived-in feel to it that many magic-heavy universes fail to achieve. You believe that this is a world where the supernatural is natural, where people have seen and lived alongside magic their whole lives. We see how magic is integrated into combat, healing, and politics, and it’s all believable in spite of how unbelievable it is. It makes it refreshingly fun and escapist without feeling completely divorced from reality.

So overall, I recommend the series while really wishing they’d structured it more clearly and accessibly. And had better makeup effects because ugh.

[nettheworldonfire]

Bottle v.s. Boob

Breast is Best is our little girl's motto. In fact, if she were old enough, Olive would probably have the bumper sticker. This is why weaning my 6.5 month old, before her body or mine is ready, is a pretty devastating feat. Let me start by saying, I think formula is amazing. I have no qualms with those who choose to formula feed for their or their baby's best interest. Formula has everything a baby needs, built right in, and has the convenience of being able to be given by ANYONE (in theory). I went back to work at 3 months postpartum with Charlie. I was never able to keep up with a demanding pumping schedule, and slowly, my supply decreased, making Charlie exclusively formula fed by 8 months. Knowing I was headed back to work and that this might happen, we got him used to the bottle right away. We made sure he would take formula and everything went very smoothly. This time was different. Knowing I would be home with Olive for a year, I didn’t NEED to bottle feed. Still, I would obviously appreciate a break, or need one to write my dissertation, so we tried the bottle here and there. She would take an ounce on occasion, but often spit that up quickly, and sometimes violently refused, allowing milk to pool in her mouth and causing her to gag/choke.

Finding out that I have about 2 weeks to wean Olive may be the worst part (thus far) of this entire ordeal. Nutritionally, I think we can get her to eat what she needs to. She eats a lot of healthy solids. Fruit and vegetable purees and small pieces of fruit like pineapple, avocado, watermelon, and banana. She's eating eggs, yogurt, a little rice, noodles, and puffed rice snacks. There are plenty of other things I know she can and will enjoy eating - and I have been doing some research on high fat and high calorie foods. We've already started adding formula to yogurt and puree mixes, and she doesn't seem to mind. I can use it as the water in macaroni and cheese, or syringe it in her if absolutely needed. Plus, the pediatrician believes that with the types and amount of solids she eats, as long as we keep her calorie intake high enough (and not let her stuff her face with puffs and teething crackers) she should be fine. The issue is that Olive uses nursing as a sleep aid. When she's tired, that's all she can think about - the mom-nip. She is violently opposed to any other form of nipple entering her mouth, won't take a pacifier, and gets more and more frustrated. She does eventually calm with rocking and bouncing and singing, and will fall asleep in less than 20 minutes. She does not self-soothe and I have no interest in letting her "cry it out" - especially considering what is going on right now. Overnight, Olive cluster-feeds. I know this is more about comfort than hunger, but it works for us. She basically goes right back to sleep, making my life easier and not waking Owen and Charlie, and she's content. She pretty much sleeps for 10-12 hours most nights like this (waking to feed and drifting back to sleep). It isn’t perfect, but it works for us.

Once I realized this would have to soon end, I started keeping track of things. On Tuesday night, she woke up to feed five times. On Wednesday night, when I actively tried to change the routine, she woke four times and one of those times I rocked her to sleep instead of nursing. Last night, she woke up twice and I managed to only nurse her once. This involved one 4:30 a.m. fiasco, but it was manageable. Between the sleep deprivation of this sort of thing and being sick though, I am exhausted. And she generally seems less happy, which makes my heart heavy. This isn't the first time my body has failed me, but it is the first time my body is failing someone I love, and that is hard.

Aside from the emotional turbulence this is causing for everyone in the house, I also have the horrible awareness that stopping nursing will bring back the postpartum period hemorrhage that I so dread. (And I apologize if that was too much information, but want you to be aware this will not be the last time I do that in this blog - so the decision to be grossed out is yours).

Yesterday, I saw the amazing Louisa at the Breastfeeding Resource Center. This organization was a godsend when I was having challenges nursing Charlie as a newborn and I went back with Olive just for a refresher. When I emailed them to ask for tips or help with weaning, they again stepped up to the plate and were kind and informative, making me feel like I had a team of knowledgeable ladies in my corner (I know, I have hundreds out there ready and willing to advise and help, but this resource has just been incredible). That being said, there wasn't much "success" at this appointment. Olive wouldn't take the MAM bottle for them (I purchased one at their request to bring along to appointment). We've now tried the Enfamil disposable nipples (Charlie loved these), Tommy Tippee (Close to Nature), Spectra, the Mamijumi (some minor success), and the Honey Bear sippy cup that the doctor suggested, also. She’s also tried a variety of sippy and straw-style toddler cups. Nothing seems to be quite perfect, but we are going to keep trying. The BRC also gave me a nipple shield, typically used on a break to help a baby who struggles to latch to mom’s nipple. Several people mentioned that this may ease the transition from breast to bottle - so I would like to try (and it saved me the few dollars I was going to spend. Good thing too, because I am spending like $500 trying to find a bottle or pacifier or anything to soothe this little lady). The one thing that Lousia suggested which may be a game changer is birth control. She said many women take it to help reduce their supply. That may really make life a lot better. I HATE pumping. And to pump just to throw away my poisonous milk (that my daughter wants so badly but can't have) would just be torture. And how long will it take for me to naturally dry up? Plus - she could potentially nurse for comfort still if my body isn't dispensing anything into her mouth. I will obviously follow up with my OBGYN about the birth control and lactation question - but the BFC seemed to think this was an option. It could even help with a gradual decrease and therefore, a more natural wean.

I had always planned to look into medication for anxiety and moodiness after I was done having babies and breastfeeding, so I spoke with my primary about that this week. I've been struggling for a few years but didn't want to start anything I would have to stop during pregnancy or nursing, so I held off. I suppose this is a little bit of a silver lining. I am going to start Lexapro to combat some of the anxiety that is obviously getting worse with this looming shitstorm. I took Lexapro for a few months in 2010 when I had a little mental health struggle about six months after my dad passed away. I didn't love it. While I do think it did what I was hoping it would do (which was to help me break a weird cycle of crying/depression), it made me very, very tired (like needed to pull over to sleep during a 30 minute drive home from work tired), and I weaned off of the drug within a few months. I was lucky to not need it again. In 2012, before my Whipple I had HORRIBLE anxiety and a few attacks for which I was prescribed Xanax to help calm me (just a few days before the procedure). That definitely worked, but I felt under the influence at work, and probably shouldn't have been driving - so that wasn't ideal either. We will see how Lexapro does this time around and if I don't see much of a change - I may be asking you all for your favorites. My doctor is starting me on a very, very low dose to try to avoid the exhaustion, and we will go from there. Think happy thoughts.

In other news, after getting booted to Thursday for my biopsy, I got the automated call reminding me of my Monday appointment today. So I tried to speak with a real human and couldn't get ahold of anyone to check. It would be nice to know if I am having a procedure on Monday before Monday (for childcare, my mental health, planning, etc.) so if you have any idea on how to get this information (hospital is Nazareth) then please share!

On Monday, I have to call the OBGYN, the pediatrician, and Penn (to schedule my second opinion, for after the biopsy results are in).

* Dark side: Denying your baby a basic necessity is totally depressing.

* Bright side: When Olive is weaned, I am going to get so freaking drunk, you just watch.

* Next steps:

2/20/20 at 9:00 am - Liver biopsy under sedation (or is it 2/17/20 at 11:00 a.m., who knows)

3/2/20 at 10:15 am - Oncology appt. with Dr. Rose

* Inappropriate, but totally relevant, GIF -

[commander-hanji-zoe]

Do you have any advice for a new blog?

🌸 Oh this is such an interesting ask, I’ve been thinking about it for a few days now, sorry it’s taken a while to get back to you but I was thinking how best to answer it! While this blog has only been around for 3 years and I’ve only really started posting in it recently, I have had my main tumblr blog for 10 years and several side blogs with quite a few followers so I’m hoping I can provide some insight! I do apologise as this turned into a bit of a ramble that I feel is about tumblr but beings to overlap into life advice lol - I blame my age. 🌸

1.) I would say firstly, enjoy it. I feel sometimes there’s a lot of pressure to get loads of followers, create new content etc. and you can forget why you’re here. I got tumblr to reblog photos of things that made me happy from bands to tattoos, movie stuff, art etc and occasionally I would forget that and end up getting bogged down in comparing stats and myself to others. So yeah, enjoy it and remember why you joined ^_^

2.) If you love work that others create (writing/art/gif sets etc.) show your appreciation not just with likes but with comments and reblogging where you can/feel comfortable doing so. Likes are great and always appreciated but comments help to inspire and reblogging means more people will see their work. It encourages content creators to continue creating, it’s also a really good way of gaining followers and make friends. If you support others they will likely support you in return. 

3.) Share the art/fan art/cosplay photos you love as per above - but don’t repost work. This was something I wasn’t really aware of when I first joined tumblr, a lot of people would just save photos from google or deviant art (it was a very different place back then) and post them on tumblr to show appreciation. But often there would be no artist detail or link to the artist, instead if you find something you like reblog it from the creator. If it isn’t on tumblr and you’d really like to post it here, contact the creator and ask their permission to post - then include a link in the post and explain you have the artist’s permission. 

4.) Talk to people :) - Okay like Alice in Wonderland here’s some advice I could really use sometimes! Through tumblr I have met some of the most amazing friends. When I first started out I started chatting to a girl who went to the same Uni as me, we met up to go for coffee, browse record shops and saw The Vaccines together. I’ve also met numerous people who encouraged me to go to Hobbit Con in Germany - I had the most amazing time, remained friends, one of them came to my wedding. I guess the message here is that internet friends are great and you never know what a friendship can blossom into. If there’s someone whose work you admire or blog you love, don’t be afraid to reach out and send a message, even if you feel a bit silly (I often do!). 

5.) Tags - My take on tags is pretty simple, tag correctly. I often tag things quite heavily but I make sure that I only tag characters that feature in a post or fandoms that feature in that post etc. You often come across posts where every character in the show has been tagged, I get why people do it, it means the post will come up in more results but it is rather infuriating when you’re looking for something specific. It also looks messy and can make things hard to find on your own blog. So yeah tag the show/film/book etc, tag the relevant characters, add whatever tags you want regarding your feelings/emotions about the post or thoughts on it. But ideally keep it relevant. On that note, tag ships (people often blacklist ships they dislike or that they find problematic) so doing this helps everyone. Anything that’s only really suitable for people 18+ tag however you see fit (due to Tumblr’s changes last year we had to revert to tagging things on the citrus scale again so I tag anything like that as lemon as well as nsft) Finally Trigger/content warnings - I do use them, some people put warnings on everything, some people don’t do at all. Again like with shipping it is helpful for people who have  

6.) Remember to take breaks - tumblr can be a little addictive and easy to pass time (like social media) so remember to take breaks, when you get back they’ll be loads of new stuff on your dashboard to look at ^_^

7.) Follow loads of blogs! I probably should have put this higher up. But have a think about the kind of content you want to see and spend some time searching for blogs that fit that, I also find it’s nice to follow some more aesthetic blogs or blogs that are calming/relaxing, seeing things like that on my dash is always a reminder to have a breather!

8.) Enjoy playing around with themes - decide what you want your blog to be about (and remember there’s nothing wrong with having a main blog that’s a little bit of everything you love as well as personal stuff!) and then have fun with the settings. There’s a lot of free tumblr themes, some of which are pretty neat and user friendly in terms of customisation. Don’t be afraid to ask questions if you’re stuck. 

9.) Side blogs are also really great. I begun to create side blogs because I didn’t want to spam my main blog with Game of Thrones, The Hobbit, Red Dead Redemption 2 or Attack on Titan, so I created side blogs. I still post about all these things on main but not as frequently. A side blog can also be good if you want to create a blog you can share with employers - I have a side blog for my photography and one for my writing. Sideblogs are also a good way of keeping certain material away from the blog where people in real life are most likely to find you. Generally I won’t post 18+ material on my main blog, so smutty fan fiction etc. goes on the side blogs. As a side note, when you have a side blog you cannot like posts or ask questions as that side blog - it will be from your main blog. 

10.) Try not to get disheartened if you create original content and it doesn’t get a lot of attention at first. When you create a blog it can take time to gain followers/traction. But remember as per point 1, that Tumblr should be fun and creating content should first and fore mostly be for you and your enjoyement. But if you continue to create, tag appropriately but also show appreciation for fellow creators there’s no reason why in time you won’t flourish. And as per point 3, if you reblog others work there’s a chance they in return will reblog your art. 

11.) There’s extension kits you can get for tumblr, I know some people use them and find them helpful. I’m not sure they’re as poplar/needed now as they used to be. I used to use one but don’t feel the need now, however might be worth a google or asking someone more knowledgeable to see if it’ll work for you.

12.) You can blacklist tags through settings, if there’s any ships, characters, things you’d rather not see on your dash or that you find upsetting or triggering I’d recommend blacklisting them. If people tag correctly you shouldn’t much/if any of it. 

13.) Under blog settings you can also choose whether you want your blog to be searchable via the email address you registered with and on google. I switched this off pretty much as soon as it became a feature! My blogs, even my main blog are a piece of me which is only shared with a select few people in real life. I really do not need my colleagues, employers, certain family/friends finding this! 

14.) Use Queues! I adore a queue.... Once I discovered they were a thing I try to have around 100 posts in my queue on main at any time. You can amend how many times you post a day (mine is around 8-12 times, I change it when i go away). It just means your blog remains active even if you can’t really log on for a week or two or if you’re on holiday. Occasionally I’ll add original posts into my queue with writing, it can be nice to come back and see the feedback. A lot of people put ‘queue’ in the tag, but you’ll realise most people have a quirky tag. For example on main mine is - one does not simply queue their way through tumblr. And on my red dead blog it’s - I had a god damn queue! Sadly on here I haven’t got one yet! 

15.) Finally I would say engage in discourse as little as possible. It can be tempting and while drama can be fun for a while, even just to watch from the outside it can quickly escalate into something nasty and toxic. At first you might want to join in but tumblr can be, well it can be a lot at times and very noisy with everyone screaming their opinions and trying to be louder than the person before. I would say no fandom is inherently toxic, but it happens. A fandom I was heavily involved in last year had so much discourse and there was so much drama that even though I wasn’t involved in it my anxiety was through the roof, I had a panic attack over it and felt paranoid. After speaking to other older members in the fandom I felt much better (they too were annoyed with what was happening) and we realised that essentially a lot of it boiled down to a real lack of critical thinking. I’m not saying don’t get involved at all, sometimes I have seen things where I’ve felt things need to be said/action taken especially when it comes to intolerance and hatred. But I would say when you do engage - pick your battles. (I hope this last one makes sense). I started writing a lot more and going into the politics of it and ranting about bigots and then thought that’s probably enough! 😁

I hope this post helps! Like I said I’ve never been asked something like this so it took a bit of thinking but these are some of the key thoughts I had. 

edit - I meant to add that obviously the above is just my opinion and based on my experiences on tumblr/thoughts about things.

[arthurtristankingsmen]

Merry Christmas from Phantom

//AAA I’m sorry for being so slow about posting this but it’s so cute and I love it thank you @phantoms-lair for writing this!!!

“Is it snowing?” Lewis asked, peering out the window of the van.

“It better not be, I don’t have snow tires on my girl.” Arthur growled, glaring at the small pieces of white fluff falling from the sky.

“It probably won’t stick, Arthur.” Vivi said logically. “It’s a shame it wasn’t a week earlier, we could have had a white Christmas.”

“Probably not. We are a bit farther in the mountains than Tempo.” Mystery pointed out. “There’s probably no snow in Tempo at all.”

Arthur grumbled some more as they pulled into the empty camping ground and parked in a carport by the Grand Lodge. It probably looked friendly and welcoming in the spring and summer, when it was full of life. But now, with the lack of power or any sign of life, it seemed foreboding.

They had been hired by the camp’s owner to deal with a haunting in the off-season before it opened. According to him, it was the ghost of an old woman that appeared at night, usually in the individual cabins. It was driving away customers and he wanted it taken care of before the campground opened in the spring.

“Let’s start with the cabins; light equipment first” Vivi jingled the key ring she’d been given. “Since that’s where the ghost normally shows. If one looks promising, we can camp there tonight and set up the heavy duty equipment.”

“Was that a camping joke, or an accident?” Arthur asked as he rooted through a box labeled ‘Lewis-don’t touch’, pulling out random pieces of handheld equipment.

“And you’re sure they’re not going to pick up on me and we end up chasing our tails again?” Lewis asked.  

“Yes and no. I mean some on this stuff is going to pick up on you no matter what.” Case in point Arthur pulled out an EMF reader. “But I know what your frequency is, so I can ignore it when it shows up. Likewise the silent hill radio for picking up talking ghosts shouldn’t pick you up unless you purposefully try to use it to flirt with Vivi. Again.”

“It was cute.” Vivi stood on the edge of the van to give Lewis a kiss on his cheek, “but we’re on the clock so we have to be professional.”

“I’ll be the most professional ghost you every saw.” Lewis promised as he kissed her back.

“Get a room you two.” Arthur said jokingly, handing Vivi her share of the light equipment. “We’ve got the campground to ourselves, so you’ll have plenty to choose from.”

~

The individual cabins were small, consisting of one or two bedrooms, a bathroom, living room, and kitchen. None of them got a single blip on the equipment outside of Lewis.

“Well, the ghost is only supposed to come out at night, maybe there won’t be anything until then?” Vivi suggested, trying to keep her hopes up. She really hated dead end calls.

“Let’s head back to the Lodge.” Lewis suggested. “These cabins aren’t exactly built for cold weather habitation and if I remember from the description it has a fireplace.” It’s true the cold didn’t bother him anymore, but that wasn’t true of Vivi and Arthur, especially with his arm.

“Just let me set up a recorder here. Hopefully it will give us something.” Vivi set the last of the recorders from her bag.

“If we’re going to camp out in the Lodge, we might as well set up the major equipment there.” Arthur suggested. Given the cold, he’d rather not leave it in the van.

Despite Vivi’s earlier prediction, the snow was, in fact, sticking to the ground, an inch or two having already gathered by the time they made it back to the van. Vivi and Arthur hauled the equipment in while Lewis carried in the food they had brought.

The Grand Lodge was a large, imposing building. There was a check-in/information desk by the door leading to an open main room with couches and comfy chairs around a fireplace, while pictures of different summertime activities such as hiking, canoeing, and fishing were plastered all over the walls. There was a kitchen and dining area off to the side and a staircase leading upstairs, which they had been told was employee quarters and storage.

“There are some non-perishables in the kitchen,” Mystery reported. “We might be stuck here longer than anticipated with the snow actually sticking.”

“Snowed in at a haunted campground. We’re stuck in a horror movie.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “Allegedly haunted. We’ve yet to see any sign of anything other than us here.” Mystery reminded him.

“Don’t remind me.” Vivi huffed as she started a fire with the wood stacked to the side of the fireplace. “I really hope we didn’t come all the way up here for nothing.”

“That’s the job sometimes.” Mystery said pragmatically, curled up by the fire. “We have food, heat, and good company. Worst case scenario it should be quite a relaxing vacation.”

~

The night was passing with relevant silence. None of the equipment so much as chirped, and Arthur and Vivi fell asleep on the sofas, Lewis and Mystery keeping watch on both the equipment and the fireplace.

“I’m going to grab some more wood from outside,” Lewis volunteered as he saw the flames shrink. At Mystery’s small woof of acknowledgment he got up and floated outside. Thankfully the firewood was under an overhang, keeping it free of the dampness of the snow.  He had grabbed several pieces of wood when he heard a voice behind him.

“You are already past my judgement.”

Lewis whirled around and saw and haggard old woman dressed in white. Though she stood in the snow, it was undisturbed around her. “Are you the ghost we were told about?”

The woman gave him a sour look, then vanished.

“GUYS, I FOUND THE GHOST!” Lewis called out. Mystery was by his side in a moment, Arthur sleepily following him. “Where is she?” Mystery asked sharply.

“Gone. She was standing right there.” Lewis pointed. “An old woman like we were told. She was dressed in ragged robes and seemed to have one leg deformed. At least it looked bigger than the other.”

“None’a tha ‘quipment went off.” Arthur muttered, still waking up. “Shoulda picked up a ghost that close.”

“I saw her.” Lewis said with some heat in his voice.

“We’re not doubting that.” Mystery scolded, “But if the figure you saw didn’t set off the ghost hunting equipment than it’s possible she’s something other than a ghost. We do exist you know.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Lewis’s hair flickered in embarrassment. He was still working on not flying off the handle as easily, but it was hard. “Wait, where’s Vivi?”

“Probably still inside. You know how deeply she sleeps.” Mystery reminded him.

“The woman said something about me being beyond her judgement. If she’s here to judge us…” Even as the thought formed, Lewis dropped the firewood  and went through the wall, something he normally was loath to do. His golden heart let out a pulse as he saw the old woman leaning over Vivi.

“NO!” He cried out, his hair and fist igniting. A blast of flame shot towards the old woman, but she dodged it, letting it fly past and explode in the fireplace. She gave him another sour look and vanished.

“What was that!” Vivi shot up at the sound of the explosion. She blinked the sleep from her eyes as she tried to focus, mostly on the now blackened and charred fireplace. “What’s wrong, Lew?”

“Oh thank God.” Lewis grabbed her in a hug. “You’re okay.”

“Is she alright?” Mystery ran in, all seven tails flowing behind him, Arthur at his heels.

“What’s going on? Why wouldn’t I be?” Vivi looked around.

“She was standing over you when I came in.” Lewis explained, not letting up his grip.

“She…? The ghost? The Ghost was here!” Vivi pulled back, wide awake. As she did so something fell off the sofa and clattered on the floor. “What was that?” Vivi reached down and picked up the small silver object. It was a coin with a handprint on one side and a symbol on the other that looked sort of like a cross with dots, either that or four stick figure people joined in the middle. “I’m pretty sure this wasn’t here when I went to sleep.”

“It’s a Heller, an old Germanic coin.” Mystery said, puzzled. “I don’t think those ones have been in use since since the thirteenth century. But why would…unless…but that makes no sense. Why would she be here of all places?”

“She? You know who our not-ghost is?” Arthur asked.

“Frau Perchta, the Christmas Witch. It fits. An old woman with one foot larger than the other, who visits homes during the twelve days of Christmas and leaves a silver coin by the bedside of those who are good.”

“That sounds like what I saw,” Lewis agreed. “So nothing to worry about?”

“As long as you’ve been good.” Mystery said dryly. “If you’ve been bad, she removes your entrails and replaces them with rocks and garbage.”

Arthur paled.

“But what I can’t figure out is why she’s here. If anywhere she should be appearing in Central Europe.”

“Maybe it’s not her.” Arthur said quickly. “The owner said the ghost appeared in summer, that’s out of season for a Christmas witch.”

“There is something not right about all of this.” Mystery’s tails twitched anxiously.

Vivi took a deep breath. “You’re right. Too many things both point to Frau Perchta and don’t add up. We need to search this Lodge.”

“Because by telling us to focus on the cabins it lowered the chances of us going through here with a fine-toothed comb.” Arthur picked up on what Vivi was saying. “This is a set up. What’s the play, Vi?”

“We don’t split up.” She said straight off. “We search this place from top to bottom with our flashlights. Lewis and Mystery, I need you guys at the ready.”

Mystery nodded and Lewis snapped his fingers, a flash of violet flame coming off them.

She nodded back. “Arthur you okay?”

He snapped to attention. “Yeah, I’m good, just don’t like, well, anything about this,” He shrugged awkwardly. “No power, freak snow storm, a possible set up, and a judgy witch. Not a good combo.”

“You’re not wrong.” Vivi snapped her flashlight on. “Let’s go.”

~

“Well, any doubt that this was a set up is out the window,” Vivi growled. Her flashlight was trained on a corner of the attic with two ritual circles. “That one was for Frau Perchta and that one looks like weather manipulation. I’m guessing that’s the cause of the snow.”

“It’s a simple circle, so the snow shouldn’t be that hard to get rid of, though we will have to wait for enough to melt so we can drive safely.” Mystery observed. “The one for Frau Perchta, concerns me, though. It’s certainly meant to bring her here, but undoing it wouldn’t necessarily make her leave.”

“Except why?” Lewis’s hair flickered more. “What does he gain, trapping us in here with the  female fusion of Santa and Krampus? This reeks of a murder attempt, except for the summoning of a spirit that isn’t evil and would only kill us if we were.”

“She still kills people.” Arthur reminded them. “And given the normal subjects of Christmas entities, she kills children. That sounds pretty evil.”

“I believe she’s technically considered neutral. She’s merely the judge, whether you fall under good or bad in on you.” Mystery supplied. “Which is why he selected her. Summoning a judge tends to be less costly and prone to backfire than summoning something openly malevolent.”

“Okay, but why would he think we were bad enough to fail her judgement?” Vivi mused, “The way this is set up it seems like he found it a foregone conclusion. Why would he think we were that bad?”

“Not necessarily bad, but perhaps lazy? That is one thing, according to legends, that Frau Perchta cannot abide.”

“Lazy?” Vivi sounded more than a little offended.

Arthur facepalmed. “Are you telling he was sure she was going to kill us because of the ‘Lazy Millennial’ Trope?”

“Paranormal Investigator isn’t exactly seen as a legitimate career, usually as a scam.” Lewis allowed. “And we don’t exactly advertise that we have second jobs.”

“Well, Frau Perchta isn’t going to kill us, so I guess we just disable the weather circle, wait till we can leave, and then have a long, possibly violent, talk with the guy who hired us.” Vivi thumped her hands together for emphasis.

Easy for you to say. thought Arthur. Vivi hadn’t murdered her best friend that year. He knew if he voiced it out loud, they’d deny it. Say it hadn’t been his fault, that he wasn’t to blame. But if he couldn’t believe that, how could he expect Frau Perchta to? How could he expect mercy from someone who disemboweled children? (And frankly, if this was his fate, he thought he’d rather die from one of Lewis’s rage explosions than from being gutted and stuffed with garbage.) Was this like a final destination thing where he didn’t die when he was supposed to, so now he was going to die in a worse way?

“Arthur?” He jumped as Lewis put a hand on his shoulder, “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be okay when we get out of here.” Arthur shuddered. “I don’t feel good about staying here.”

“Then we’re gone,” Lewis said. “Let’s get rid of the circles and we’re out of here.”

“How?” Vivi asked. “It’s not safe to drive.”

“We’re not going to drive, we’re going to fly.” Lewis said with conviction. “I know you don’t like me ‘ghosting up’ the van but-”

“Given the circumstances, Lew, you can go full dekotora on the van and I won’t say a word.” Arthur promised. “We should probably pick up the recorders from the cabins.”

“We can bill him for the replacements after we kick his ass.” Vivi growled. She took the weather circle and Mystery took the one summoning Frau Perchta.

They did pack up the bigger equipment they had brought in, though, and carried it out to the van. Vivi slid in the back with Mystery, letting Arthur sit up front with Lewis. It was an unspoken arrangement, but as Arthur was clearly uncomfortable they moved to be able to protect him as much as they could.

“You ready?” Lewis asked, rubbing his hands together.

“Let’s get out of here,” Arthur agreed.

Lewis grabbed the wheel, channeling his power through it. He was half tempted to take Arthur up on  his permission to dekotora up the van, but decided to restrain himself. (He did miss Rooster’s truck, but he obviously couldn’t keep it). The violet flame spread over the vehicle, transforming as it was infused with Lewis’s soul.

Vivi made a happy little noise as she watched it happen. She loved seeing Lewis flex his powers. He really was amazing.

When the van finished changing from yellow to black and magenta Lewis floored the gas. Arthur grabbed the handle on the door and Vivi squealed with delight as the van blasted forward, ignoring the snow completely.

Arthur let himself relax. Admittedly he was a bit nervous, after all the last time Lewis had done this with a vehicle he had been trying to kill him. But it wasn’t so bad on this side of things. It felt like being in the van was like being surrounded by Lewis, and that wasn’t scary at all.

~

De-ghosting the van was a bit harder for Lewis than ghosting it, but he knew they couldn’t drive through a populated area in a semi-possessed vehicle. At least the snow was completely absent about a mile out of the campgrounds. “Home or client visit?”

“Client visit.” Vivi answered grimly. “He’ll think we’re trapped, so he won’t be expecting us.”

“Got it,” Lewis adjusted his direction. “Look, I know I’m the last one who gets to say this, but remember, killing him is off the table.”

“Oh, I don’t want him dead,” Vivi said faux-sweetly. “That won’t make him suffer enough.”

It took a few hours before they reached the outskirts of the town, and by that time the sun was beginning to come up. Arthur could feel the lack of sleep starting to catch up to him a bit, but he’d fought off worse exhaustion than this and he did not want to sleep until the case was done. It didn’t prevent the nightmares completely, but it did cut down on them, not having something he was actively worried about.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones looking for him,” Lewis commented as they got closer to the client’s house. There were several, rather familiar flashing lights. Lewis manifested his sunglasses quickly, as it became quickly apparent the police cars were parked outside the very house they were looking for.

“Hey, I know that guy.” Vivi leaned forward to see a dark haired man talking with the police. “That’s Jerard Jansson. He runs a tourist service that focuses on haunted locations.”

“Sleazy?” Arthur asked.

“No, pretty on the level. Does his research and is pretty respectful of the sites. Doesn’t let the tourists mess with them either.”

Lewis parked the car and one of the officers flagged him down. “Sir, do you live in the area?”

“No, we had business with the guy who lived there,” Lewis pointed to the building now blocked off with crime scene tape. “He hired us to investigate the ghost of an old woman haunting his campground, and tried to get us killed.”

“An old woman? Mr. Jansson said it was the ghost of three youths- Wait, did you say Mr. Hammond tried to kill you?”

“We were supposed to stay overnight and there was no power, so we needed to keep the fireplace going to keep warm.” Arthur cut in, knowing Lewis wouldn’t have a lie ready and they couldn’t mention Frau Perchta. “I think one of the logs was treated with something explosive. Detonated in the fireplace.”

The officer muttered something under his breath that had Mystery’s ears perking up. “We’ll have someone check it out. We’re going to send you to the station to get a statement. Do you know anyone else who had dealings with Hammond?”

“No, I recognize Jerard Jansson, but didn’t know he had any business with Hammond.” Vivi wanted to be as up-front as possible with the police, supernatural aside. The officer took their information (and license plate number) before sending them on their way.

“We were meant to be the ghosts.” Vivi said quietly as they drove away. “He preemptively hired Jerard to try to get his ‘haunted’ campsite on the tour to drive up business. Then he hired us to investigate the ‘ghost of the old woman’ and get killed by Frau Perchta and become the ghosts.” She shook her head. “But Jerard does his research. I bet he figured out there were no ghost stories tied to the campground before.”

“Well, I’m still the only ghost on the team, so he failed.” Lewis was trying to sound reassuring, but couldn’t keep the concern out of his voice, or flames from flickering off his hair. It was a good thing they had practice with Mystery keeping an illusion over him during interviews and meetings, as this promised to be less than relaxing.

“He didn’t get away with it, at the very least.” Mystery mused. “His plan backfired completely. When you said he’d tried to kill you, he was muttering about Hammond being garbage before, ‘he was full of it’. I imagine Frau Perchta was not pleased by being used as a murder weapon.” He turned to Arthur. “Quick thinking with the exploding log.”

Arthur shrugged, “I was trying to think up a way to explain the fireplace Lewis exploded on the way here. And the guy did try to kill us.”

“He got what he deserved.” Lewis growled.

~

By the time Arthur got home, he was beyond exhausted. They’d been questioned, but honestly hadn’t known anything much about Hammond other than that he was their client, owned the campground, etc. They had told the police about the magic circles. Between that, and hiring them and Jerard, indicated Hammond was into some occult shit, but nothing really pointed to what had happened.

Arthur didn’t bother changing as he collapsed in his bed. He drifted off into an uneasy sleep almost immediately, his mind playing over past events. The time before the cave, the mansion, Lewis confronting him, learning the truth of what happened, Shiromori— everything.

Arthur’s eyes snapped open. He couldn’t even scream as he saw the haggard face of Frau Perchta bent above his. She raised a hand with claw-like nails above him and Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the end.

Instead he heard a small pap next to him. He risked glancing out of the corner of his eyes and saw a silver heller coin next to his head,

“Why?” He asked without thinking. “How could I be good? I murdered my best friend.”

Frau Perchta looked right through him for a moment. “No,” she said in a raspy German accent. “You didn’t. You worked very hard, even with every excuse not to, and were not responsible for anyone’s misfortune, much less death.” She lifted her hand again, the same hand that had killed their client, and patted him on the head.

Then she was gone, leaving Arthur alone in his room, with only a single coin as a testament to it having happened at all.

Arthur picked it up tentatively. He didn’t know how much the ancient coin was worth monetarily. But it was a gift from a neutral entity, someone who had no reason to give him a pass, saying that he was innocent. Nothing would induce him to part with it, for that alone.

He lay back down, coin clenched in his good hand, and sleep forgotten completely. He wasn’t sure he truly believed he wasn’t to blame for the cave. But this was certainly a point in favor of that.

~~~~~

[nataliesewell]

monster prom pop quiz results

I was bored, so I decided to try and record all the questions and answers in Monster Prom’s Stupidest Pop Quiz Ever(tm). It’s really likely I haven’t found them all, so I’ll come back and add to this from time to time.

The pop quiz consists of three questions; the first two go towards determining your highest stats at the beginning of the game, while the third chooses your possible prom date (this isn’t set in stone; you can still try to pursue a different character in the actual game). The order of the questions is randomized.

Other links: Vera Walkthrough

You can find the questions and their results under the cut!

stat questions

What is your spirit emoji?

a. Caucasian guy with a turban because fuck stereotypes. +CREATIVITY

b. Octopus emoji. Best animal on Earth. I know 5 mixed drinks, 3 drug cocktails, and 17 sex positions that involve one or several octupi. +FUN

c. Snowman, because that motherfucker is in the middle of a blizzard and he’s fuckin’ smiling. He doesn’t give a fuck about blizzards. And he has a kickass hat. +BOLD

It’s your chance to fix global warming. Go ahead!

a. Global warming isn’t real. I invented it, and now science is claiming authorship because science is a lame copycat with no original ideas. +CREATIVITY

b. Nah, the world is doomed. But I’ll start investing in ships and start a profitable business for the “soon to be covered by water” world. +WEALTH

c. It’s time to be a real hero: I’ll lead a mission to the sun in order to... invite the sun to the party of its life! We’ll have so many hilarious misadventures that the sun will eventually become... cooler. ;) +FUN

Be a visionary: what will the next big social media craze be?

a. Bull$hit: it’s Facebook, but each time someone shares news that isn’t supported by real facts, they’re taxed, and the money goes to the people exposed to that bullshit. +WEALTH

b. Greek Agoras: like literal Greek agoras re-instated in our cities. Places where philosophy and arts are discussed by the greater minds. That’s the social media I want to log into! +SMARTS

c. Rbert: from now on, a socially awkward guy named Robert will do everything he’s commanded to do through the app by its users! +CHARM

You wish you were raised by...

a. A mysterious old man who saved me from the streets in order to raise me as his disciple in the ancient ways of rad DJing! +FUN

b. A pack of wild wolves... who also happens to be tech moguls who own some of the most profitable companies of Silicon Valley. They would be kick-ass role models AND wild wolves! Sick! +WEALTH

c. A really progressive marriage between a kick-ass venomous snake and... actual fire. I love fire and I see no issue with being raised by it. +BOLD

You build a 100ft statue commemorating an event so that in 1000 years archaeologists can learn something about the people of our time. What does the statue represent?

a. That glorious instant when your friend stopped you from texting embarrassing stuff to your ex while hella drunk. +FUN

b. That mind-blowing twist in your favourite TV show that clearly changed the life of everyone forever, unlike all that boring stuff they show on the news. +CREATIVITY

c. Your least favourite political figure... being devoured by rabid rhinoceri... which are also covered in badass tattoos. +BOLD

Which is the coolest mythological creature?

a. The invisible hand of the free market. +WEALTH

b. A sphinx... who’s super turnt up and ready to party! And she raps all her riddles (she still kills you if you don’t answer them correctly... but she raps the riddles)! +FUN

c. This weird creature I drew when I was six and which is clearly super derivative from other mythological creatures... but it’s super cool and it’s my OC and my spirit animal, okay? +CREATIVITY

You’re elected president for a day. What’s the first law you pass?

a. You can deduct taxes by writing sonnets instead. Amount of taxes deducted are calculated based on the beauty of the sonnets. +CREATIVITY

b. Trivia fact: presidents don’t pass laws... so is this a trick question or are you just being an idiot? +SMARTS

c. One dollar bills will now include a picture of me and the inscription “Beware: Too Much Awesomeness.” My presidency might last a day, but my fame will last forever! +CHARM

A radioactive possum just bit you... what superpowers did you get?

a. The superpower of always choosing the right combination of emojis to get the desired reaction from all people: seducing my loved ones, burning my enemies, settling an argument, and even conveying complex emotional thoughts. +CHARM

b. Uh, probably rabies? I’d go to a hospital immediately. +SMARTS

c. The incredible power of writing fanfiction so compelling that the actual creators of the TV shows decide to go with my ideas and crazy ships. +CREATIVITY

School is outdated and lame. We need a new school subject asap!

a. Critical thought. I mean... damn, this country could really use a subject like that in schools. +SMARTS

b. Turning people into your puppets through emotional warfare and deception 101. +CHARM

c. How to correctly punch a crocodile without terrible consequences. +BOLD

If you had to have sex with animal... which animal would it be?

(You don’t get six answers; the three answers you get are randomized.)

a. A great white shark. I have to fuck an animal, let’s at least make it a story worth telling! +CHARM

b. A swan. They’re classy. Plus it reminds me of that myth of Leda and the Swan, so at least by bestiality standards it has a certain chic appeal. +CREATIVITY

c. A human being, because I’m the kind of douchebag who loves to find loopholes in stupid questions like this one. +SMARTS

d. A purebred horse. At least I can keep his semen and sell it. It’s worth a lot! Who said there was no silver lining to bestiality? +WEALTH

e. A dolphin. They’re the only other animal that fucks just for pleasure, so at least we can both do our best to have a good time, right? +FUN

f. No on can make me fuck an animal. If I fucked an animal, it’d be of my own free will. As a matter of fact, I already have fucked an animal, so the joke’s on you, pal. +BOLD

The coolest reality show would be...

a. Twelve experts on the various arts of seduction live in a house where they must face a common challenge: seducing a potato into marriage... somehow. +CHARM

b. Eight rich people fight in weekly challenges to see who’s the best at giving money to you. +WEALTH

c. People in various positions of power must face all sorts of questions relevant to their field, and if they fail, they lose their jobs... and society wins. +SMARTS

You get the chance to produce a movie. It’s based on...

a. The most influential Russian novelists of the XIX century... have gone nuts! They don’t remember anything about last night and now they can’t find the manuscript of The Brothers Karamazov; and Dostoyevsky has to deliver it TODAY! +FUN

b. Two cool guys walking away from rad explosions. And they don’t look at the explosions. THEY DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT THE EXPLOSIONS! They reflect on life and love... AND IT IS SUPER DOPE AND KICK-ASS BECAUSE THEY DO SO WALKING AWAY FROM NEVER-ENDING EXPLOSIONS! +BOLD

c. Something about superheroes, but with a love triangle between a beauty yet somehow relatable girl (maybe she’s always stating she’s a mess?) and two of the super hot superheroes, which are also like vampires or pirates or both. Instant hit! +WEALTH

Democracy is just broken. What would be the best way of choosing the leaders of modern society?

a. Whoever can play the most heartbreaking violin solo wins. +CREATIVITY

b. You put all the candidates in an empty room... with a wild grizzly bear. Whoever kills the bear should be our president. If everyone dies, then it’s obvious: the bear should be our president. +BOLD

c. We create a reality show called “America’s Next Top President” where the candidates compete in all kinds of physical and mental challenges. Voter turnout would increase and we would turn a profit on it! +FUN

If you could put a curse on your worst enemy, what would it do?

a. I’d curse them to fall in love with a wonderful person and be happily married before they realize that all this time... their partner was a wild panther in disguise! Then the panther viciously devours my enemy. Classic! +BOLD

b. The curse of always meeting obnoxious people at parties who are super into new fad diets that feel the need to explain them in detail. +CHARM

c. You can’t rely on the effectiveness of a curse. I prefer to take care of my enemies the old-fashioned way: by exposing them to unsafe doses of radiation over the course of several years. +SMARTS

What would be the coolest prize you could find in your box of cereal?

a. A tiny piece of sharp metal, so every scoop will be full of thrill and danger! +BOLD

b. The phone number of the sexy tiger on the front of the box. He’s so passionate about breakfast and health that he’s surely also a grrreat lover. +CHARM

c. A sample of a more nutritious breakfast option, so people are encouraged to stop eating that colorful crap. +SMARTS

What inanimate object do you think would make the best girlfriend or boyfriend, provided you went criminally insane?

a. A human-size pillow depicting a character created by myself. As a matter of fact, I have all the needed paperwork and I’m only waiting for the conservative narrow-minded laws of our country to finally step forward into waifu and husbando territory, as was clearly intended by God. +CREATIVITY

b. A dildo, duh. +FUN

c. An ATM. Sugar baby life, here I come! +WEALTH

Which god do you pray to each night before sleeping?

a. Praying is kind of lame. I have a group text set up with some deities: Dionysus, Bastet, Loki... coolest cats in town. +CHARM

b. Praying is for fools. I took some compromising pics of a god molesting a tree, and now I blackmail him for whatever I want. A lot more effective. +SMARTS

c. Oh, I pray to all kinds of gods. I have this business where people pay me to deliver their prayers every night. I’ve even started to look for a Chinese factory to outsource the prayers. +WEALTH

prom date questions

What is the sexiest type of knowledge a lover can have?

a. How to set stuff on fire. ❤️DAMIEN

b. All the principles to build a financial empire. ❤️VERA

c. Lyrics to all Disney songs. ❤️MIRANDA

d. Obscure 80s movie trivia. ❤️LIAM

e. Sports things. ❤️SCOTT

f. How to make a killer cocktail out of anything. ❤️POLLY

Your partner just gave you a cool gift for your anniversary but you totally forgot! Quick, come up with an idea for a great gift!

a. The head of their fiercest enemy. ❤️VERA

b. A silly toy that makes silly noises. ❤️SCOTT

c. The abstract concept of gratefulness. ❤️LIAM

d. A pony. Always a pony. ❤️MIRANDA

e. Anything on fire. Or a weapon. No, no: a weapon on fire. ❤️DAMIEN

f. Anything capable of leading them to an overdose of some sorts. ❤️POLLY

What would be a deal-breaker for a potential lover?

a. The person lacks taste. ❤️LIAM

b. The person is mediocre. ❤️VERA

c. The person is a coward. ❤️DAMIEN

d. The person is boring. ❤️POLLY

e. The person hates the outdoors. ❤️SCOTT 

f. The person lacks manners. ❤️MIRANDA

What would be a killer accessory?

a. Sunglasses... at night. ❤️POLLY

b. A fabulous purse made from the skin of your worst enemy. ❤️VERA

c. Coolness itself. ❤️LIAM

d. Fancy brass knuckles. ❤️DAMIEN

e. A necklace with your own name... in case you forget! ❤️SCOTT

f. Shiny armor. ❤️MIRANDA

The world will end tomorrow... What will you do today?

a. Nobody ends the world but me! I’ll end the world today. ❤️DAMIEN

b. It’s okay! We invented the apocalypse to take care of the overpopulation of commoners. ❤️MIRANDA

c. I’ll finish my novel... whoever comes after the end should know my legacy! ❤️LIAM

d. 100 push-ups... no, no 200 push-ups! ❤️SCOTT

e. They always tell you the world is ending... I’ll profit on other people’s hysteria. ❤️VERA

f. I always party as if there were no tomorrow... so who cares? ❤️POLLY

Which criteria would you use to name your children?

a. Meh... no name? It’s just too much work! ❤️POLLY

b. I will research for a name that is pun-proof and joke-proof. No one will pick on them. ❤️VERA

c. A non-heteronormative name to give them freedom to define themselves on their own terms. ❤️LIAM

d. Just a swear word. ❤️DAMIEN

e. My name + “II” (the Second). ❤️MIRANDA

f. Something simple and friendly, like Bobby or Mary. ❤️SCOTT

If you were an ice cream... which flavour would you be?

a. Double creme de la Gruyere and meringues. ❤️LIAM

b. Spicy chocolate. No... chocolate on FIRE! ❤️DAMIEN

c. Success. ❤️VERA

d. Tequila and coke. ;) ❤️POLLY

e. Rainbows and gummy bears. ❤️MIRANDA

f. Meat! ❤️SCOTT

What would be your dream first date?

a. An art exhibition experimental enough to give you a seizure. ❤️LIAM

b. A sweaty and manly wrestling match. ❤️SCOTT

c. A professional meeting where you charm your date with some astonishing business advice! ❤️VERA

d. A wild party in international waters. ❤️POLLY

e. A lovely walk in the forest... after rescuing your date from a dragon! ❤️MIRANDA

f. Crimes. ❤️DAMIEN

You find a genie in a bottle. You can ask for whatever you want. What do you ask for?

a. A rainbow that you can eat! ❤️MIRANDA

b. I don’t ask for anything. I drink the genie from the bottle. I can grant my own wishes! ❤️DAMIEN

c. Before asking for anything, you try to negotiate up to the three standard wishes. ❤️VERA

d. Infinite confetti! ❤️POLLY

e. ...His friendship! ❤️SCOTT

f. Him to not be so cliched. Genies and wishes... so mainstream! ❤️LIAM

What would be the most appealing in a love partner?

a. A big... horn. ❤️DAMIEN

b. Sharp wits. ❤️LIAM

c. Kawaii eyes. ❤️MIRANDA

d. A very tsundere personality. ❤️VERA

e. Soft fur. ❤️SCOTT

f. A taste for party. ❤️POLLY

[rhodesmystery]

so how does the hphm story factor in to what you do? like the legilimency stuff and whatever? i think its making mc too op honestly and annoys me a bit

Honestly I’m not up to that story wise in game because I took a bit of break from being so up to date (I know what happens because I’m on the discord and stuff, and also spoilers don’t faze me). I’m only three or four chapters behind? My description on my tumblr is lying haha

But it really doesn’t bother me as much as I think it should? Like, here’s the thing, no matter what game you play, especially where it has these RPG elements and whatever, the player character is going to get ‘OP’. I mean like, in DAO alone, if you just happen to choose the right origin (male human noble) and marry Anora without a sacrifice, not only are you king, your brother retakes the Teyrnir, you also end up owning Amaranthine as Grey Warden land pretty much, you can also elect to take Gwaren as your Teyrnir and if you had OGB with Morrigan too, there’s that. Never mind too the little bits and pieces spread in game with magic potions and the subclass system and whatnot. And that’s actually a relatively recent piece of media in the grand scheme of things. Player Characters have kind of honestly always been given stuff in the way of story to make them into a big damn hero. And if you want to talk books, I think Eragon is literally the most OP character I’ve ever come across when reading anything. Harry Potter wishes he was on Eragon’s level.

I just wish people would stop trying to use ‘Mary Sue/Gary Stu’ as a continued slander nowadays... Like it’s rooted in a lot of negativity, and being told that your character is ‘too strong’ ‘too perfect’ whatever can really affect a creative process? You just need to look up the origins of the term to know where it’s rooted in, and how it’s used to tear down what people create (until you flip it on people that honestly Bruce Wayne is literally Gary Stu, and then suddenly it’s not such a big deal because it’s different for a guy. Misogyny works in mysterious ways with fanboys). By people who especially dislike HPHM for whatever reasons, and are crazy vocal about it, love calling MC a Mary Sue/Gary Stu, and talk about how OP they are. But Harry gets the free pass, y’know? Literally each book is a level up for Harry. Survives death, several times, finds a stone in a Mirror that presents ones desires, parsletongue, patronus at 13, Triwizard champion... So, yeah. That’s what annoys me the most.

I think I’m actually pleased in a way that it’s legilimency, even if it debunks my hard work into actually connecting a family to a seer in the HP universe. I’m not going to overthrow it one more time though haha. Seers are a little more rare than natural legilimens, kind of. And I think it’s interesting in a way, because of how HPHM works, where they can implement stuff early on as they update too, just to keep the connecting story working and relevant, without losing touch with what they’ve currently written, and done in the past. 

I guess this sounds like I’m cutting HPHM a lot of slack? But real talk, it’s the first HP game in a long time, if at all, that allows for character creation, an exploration of a time before Harry arrives at Hogwarts and immediately post-Voldemort, plus expands Hogwarts as a whole? A lot of creative freedom was surprisingly given with it, and I like a lot of what they’re doing. Of course there’s a lot of stuff I don’t agree with, in how the game actually plays out, and how it’s a money sink at the end of the day, but what I like outweighs a lot of the negatives for me. People have been asking for years for more content of what happened before HP1, of the expanded universe. Even if HPHM isn’t always the best step forward, but it is a step forward, in opening up and showing that, yeah, people want these sorts of games for this universe. That there is still an interest in HP as a whole, but the fans that grew up with the books aged, and that to keep itself relevant, HP needs to adapt to what people actually want. So yeah, I guess I cut it some slack in that respects because hopefully the big megacorporations who want our money go ‘hold on, if we do it this way, we can make more money!’ since we all know that’s all they care about.

This went off into a ramble in a different direction so I’m cutting it there but TLDR; I don’t really care either way and I want to see where the story goes with it.