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youllallriseintheink · 5 months

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The Road to Alagadda

Desperate to research the threats posed by the unknowable and dangerous land of Alagadda, the SCP Foundation attempts to position their resident reality-warper and professional piece of work, Alto Clef, to be invited to Alagadda by the Ambassador. Meanwhile, the Ambassador has its own plans for Clef.

---

For years, the SCP Foundation could only watch as the Ambassador led artist after artist to abandon their lives on earth. They'd sent fleets of trained military personnel only to have them killed effortlessly by reality warpers, their remains tossed back through the doors as though to mock the researchers.

Another strategy had been tried: training researchers in the way of fine arts and positioning them to be chosen by the Ambassador, such that they might enter Alagadda as a welcome presence. Unfortunately, the results were the same for every researcher-turned-artist who had gone through this process: once they entered Alagadda, nothing could get them to leave.

"There is one more thing we could try," said one shadowy O5 council member to the board of hr fellows after yet another researcher had been lost to the strange realm. "We could send someone who is impervious to most otherworldly influences. Someone who has reality-warping powers of his own and would never choose art over the violence we let him inflict.”

Another council member, the oldest, looked across to her, eyes sharp. "Alto Clef is an important asset to the Foundation. And moreover, letting him into a realm we know nothing about given his unruly personality could have any number of consequences.”

The other O5 member shook her head. “We don’t know whether Alagadda is related to the Scarlet King,” she countered. “This could very well be the only way to stem a growing army of reality warpers.”

The eldest member sat back, steepled his hands, and thought for a moment. “Very well," then," he said finally. "We will set him up with Paraskevas Portokalis for art film mentorship, as we have with the other researchers we've sent. But if he dies, or worse, converts, you may very be terminated for it.”

The O5 councilwoman nodded. “That's a risk I'm willing to take.”

—-

Charlotte shuddered and screamed as millipedes coated in fake blood crawled from her mouth. Her writhing on the floor was a bit of overacting that Alto Clef had demanded, but the rest of her reaction was genuine. Her joke of a "director" had insisted that nothing else would do.

“Cut!” Clef yelled, prompting the poor actress to roll over onto her hands and knees and spit out the bugs. “Someone get me a lemon drop French martini," Clef ordered. "We start filming again in seventeen and a half minutes. I want twenty more takes of this by the time the day’s out.”

The actress spat out one last grub and looked at Clef in absolute disdain. “What,” she demanded, “is the point of having six bug-vomiting scenes in a film about children’s drawings?”

Clef lounged back in his director’s chair and smiled ghoulishly at her. “It’s about how human expression is painful, or something. I don’t know. It’s fun for me.”

Charlotte looked over to the renowned but retired art film director, Paraskevas Portokalis, who was sat next to his spoiled little protégé in a similar chair. Unfortunately but unsurprisingly, he seemed perfectly at peace with things. The man loved watching the creative process of "young and blossoming artists" the way some liked watching the bizarre films he'd spent decades of his life creating. It's why he'd chosen to spend his retirement mentoring anyone who wanted to be mentored.

"A film does need to be enjoyed, eh, Alto?" the old director said. "No meaning will be absorbed without pleasure, surely. But you have to consider what the audience will like, too, no? Don't become too wrapped up in your own preferences."

"Yeah. Sure. I'll think about it," Clef said. He surely would not think about it. He didn't give a damn about children's drawings. Not like his kid could make him any that wouldn't disintegrate in a day from merely being in her radius. No hand-drawn Father's Day cards for him, just the flowers that sprouted from the wreckage of her containment cell whenever it went too long without replacement.

As Clef returned home to the base that night and did his one-hour off-key ukele solo in the dormitory halls, he thought to himself, "This is the life." He thought he had it made on the base tormenting SCPs and his coworkers all day, but this. He had a whole year where his "job" was basically to boss people around and make them do whatever he wanted.

Yes, as Clef settled down for the night, he was absolutely certain that no one could make him an artist and he'd never go to Alagadda. This would be a fun year, and then he'd go back to his old life. He fell asleep peacefully, blissfully unaware that he was being watched.

That night, Clef dreamt. He was standing in a dark void, and then an explosion occurred, sending fractals of light and particles in every direction. From there, there were images of things Clef would never have been able to describe.

Clef watched as an alien-looking, water-dwelling squid creature taught a smaller creature of its species- its young, perhaps- to forge ornate glass vases using the heat of hydrothermal vents. After a while, Clef was torn away from their cozy home. He saw its beautiful glass exterior, and then, as he continued to be pulled away, he saw a city of similar ones, unique and sparkling. He was pulled further and saw more cities, then pulled from the ocean and into the sky, where he saw alien plant life and beautiful cities of stone on the planet's landmasses. And then he saw a tiny blip in the water- the rainbow-coloured corpse of the parental squid. But the cities, the art, the legacy remained.

Clef's alarm went off the next morning at six sharp. He rushed through his usual workout regimen feeling especially amped, adrenaline pushing him through more chin-ups than he'd ever accomplished as his mind raced. He had to get back on set. He had to do what those jellyfish were doing.

When Clef arrived on set, he was surprised at first to find that everyone there aside from Portokalis looked bored and annoyed with him. But of course they did- he'd been treating this privilege as a joke. "Everyone but Portokalis, take the day off," Clef announced. "I need to make some changes to the script. You'll be paid in full."

The actress turned away in annoyance and began walking away, no doubt wondering what fresh torture Clef was cooking up for her.

Clef had no time to worry about that. He took to the side of the old director, who had already been seated beside the director's chair. "Alright. We have to make some changes," he started, putting his chair opposite the director's and sitting to face him. "First, I want the protagonist to be vomiting coloured paint, not bugs. We'll use some kind of practical effects to make the colours cover the whole room to show what art does to the world. The windows should become coloured glass. And I want her to survive it. Second, I want this movie to actually be good. You'll have to teach me how to do that."

Portokalis smiled enthusiastically and stood up with all the energy his old bones could muster. "I knew you'd find your inner artist," he drawled, "All my protégés do in time."

They began to walk to the desk on which Clef would plan his masterpiece.

"Though, then they tend to disappear..."

---

Weeks passed. Every night, Clef dreamt of art being created by aliens, proto-humans, and even by what seemed like biblical angels. Every day, he woke up and worked on the film, incorporating what he saw or what he'd learned from it. Everyone but Portokalis was furious with the constant change, but Clef didn't care. He had eight months left to create his masterpiece. The film wouldn't be publishable by the end of the year, and Portokalis would make limited copies of the film and move on to his next protégé, but that was fine. Clef accepted it. He'd keep his copy, share his art with anyone he could, carry the skills into smaller, hobbyist projects afterward, and let that be enough. He'd even started trying to play his ukele well.

That was, until the night of September 28th. On that night, Clef dreamt again of the alien squids creating blown glass. This time it was a master artist creating a great glass structure as many others followed suit, waving their tentacles around in rows of hydrothermal vents like a university classroom attempting to emulate an esteemed professor.

And then the earth began to shake and rumble, and every glass structure shattered as the squids panicked. Once again, Clef began to zoom out of the scene, first from the ocean and then from their atmosphere, backing away just in time to see an asteroid reduce their planet to flaming shards of rock.

Shards of rock. They must have been miles in length, but from Clef's perspective, they were like particles of glass. Clef's scientific knowledge told him that every last shard of actual glass from the planet must have been melted now.

Gone.

Clef was hyperventilating. Once he would have enjoyed such destruction. But now...

The particles of the planet dispersed and stars in the sky exploded, one by one, until Clef was left in a blank void. What looked like a biblical angel floated a few feet from his face, and Clef thought that surely it couldn't die. Surely it wouldn't be destroyed by time as well. But it, too, exploded in a flower of blood and viscera.

And then, Clef heard music. He turned, and he saw a beautiful city with strange geometries, painted in red, white, yellow and black and decorated in all forms of art, most of which Clef had never seen even in his dreams. He even spotted a palace made of coloured glass, grander than the ones he'd seen underwater but undeniably the same style. Clef came towards the city, and as he stepped into its streets, he began to feel safe again. This place wouldn't crumble. It would outlast the very universe and then the universe after it.

Then, Clef's alarm went off. He turned it off, cold with sweat and heart racing.

Clef arrived at the film studio, still feeling and no doubt looking haunted. By now, the studio was filled with strange and abandoned props- things that Clef had integrated into his film in a flurry of inspiration and discarded in favor of alternative desires just as quickly. And amongst them were a crew of frustrated actors and a smiling Paraskevas Portokalis.

"We need to start all over," Clef said.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Charlotte shouted. "For what? So you can keep overloading this movie with weird shit that no one is going to understand?"

As recently as yesterday, Clef would have snarked at her in response. Today, all that escaped his lips were the words, "I don't know."

How could he make something that mattered? He needed his work to be seen, worshipped, its message known. But even if it was, it would all disappear in the end. He looked over to Portokalis, whose face had fallen. "I don't know," he repeated, hoping that his mentor would have the answer.

"Shall we leave the actors to their acting and try to do some writing?" the mad director asked, putting a hand around Clef's back and guiding him to a breakout room. Clef followed his lead into the room and fell down heavily in a chair. Portokalis brought him some paper and pencils.

"Alright, now leave me alone," Clef ordered. "And have someone bring me a martini. My usual order."

"Very well," Portokalis said, turning to leave.

Clef faced the paper, his mind empty. Minutes passed, and he tried writing the easiest story he could think of, a simple torture-and-murder type thing that he'd fantasized about on his coffee breaks in the Foundation. He didn't have the words even for that.

Clef's lack of inspiration continued for several days, and the dreams had stopped entirely. Filming continued as Clef directed, his eyes glazed over and the wheels of his mind spinning as he tried to fix his film. The actors were glad for the lack of changes, which annoyed Clef. Why hadn't he taken the time to enjoy their misery before? He couldn't enjoy it now. The halls of the foundation had grown quiet from the lack of Clef's ukele solos.

Weeks later, Clef finally had a dream again. No imagery, just a single voice, deep and androgunous and smooth.

Show me who you are, it said. Express yourself. Show me that you are worthy.

The next morning, Clef came into filming, loaded his arms with all the art supplies he could carry, and hurried back home. Frenzied, he ran through his dorm unit, coating everything with red and black. That wasn't enough. Home wasn't where he was most himself and he knew it. He took his cans of red and black, with white and yellow, too, for good measure, and stumbled into the SCP research center. He threw a bucket of yellow paint on the ground and began spreading it before he realized that this wasn't enough, either. No. He knew what he must do.

Clef made his way over to SCP 682's containment cell, opened it with his keycard, and threw black paint into the vat of acid containing the anomaly. In its subdued and tortured state, the creature did not react. Once at a safe distance and out of the creature's eyesight, Clef pushed the button to collapse the tank of acid and watched as the reptile thrashed about, roaring and spilling paint everywhere as it made its way out of the cell door. Soon, the blood of some unfortunate personnel would join the black.

Yes. This was him. He was pure chaos and destruction. This was the self-expression the voice had commanded of him. He could feel it. A bit longer and he'd be done.

At some point during Clef's artistic rampage, in which six more SCPs were released and he faced a strange lack of interference, something was said over the intercom. Clef scarcely registered it. At some point, cameras, microphones, and a harness were put on his body by other members of the SCP personnel. He didn't notice. At the end of twenty minutes, the SCPs were once again contained and Clef found himself painting a door of white on a wall painted black. When he was finished, he stepped through the door.

From the control room, several researchers were gathered to watch through Clef's cameras. Through it, they saw a world of four colours: red, black, yellow, and white- though Clef was, for the first time, seeing it in every colour he knew of and some he didn't. The realm's citizens, all clad in masquerade masks, were strange and alien. Some even floated as though through water. The world's structures and geometries were downright bizarre. The camera on Clef's chest heaved as he took several sighs of relief. And then he noticed the equipment that had been attached to him.

"Ha, you thought you'd try to pull me back if I went local, huh? Well, I'm not going to be held back by a stupid leash."

"Okay, let's reel him back," the head researcher ordered through a walkie-talkie. On the Foundation's side of the door, three Mobile Task Force members began to heave the cord that connected Clef to the real world. Clef fell backward, but then he used his reality-warping powers to undo the harness. The three guards, suddenly pulling at an empty leash instead of against a man, fell backward.

"What do we do?" asked a scientist from the control room.

"We learn what we can learn from the cameras," said the lead scientist, "and if need be, use our last resort."

Clef strolled through the city, stopping occasionally to gawk at bizarre art or to chat with a strange beings in an unrecognizable tongue and be spoken back to in English. About ten minutes into his sightseeing, a fifteen-foot-tall being cloaked in robes and wrapped in chains melted out of the cobblestone road and appeared before him.

Alto Clef, the being said. Its voice was androgynous and otherworldly and threatening. Clef remembered it as the voice from his dreams. Welcome. I'm glad that you've accepted my invitation. You are not any ordinary guest here. We know of your powers. And we know of your love for violence. We have a special role for you here.

The being stomped the ground, and a portal leading to swirling cosmos opened up beneath it. You see, for people to crave legacy, immortality, and all else that our world depends on for its new members, they must fear death and destruction. We will make sure you have time to create, but we would also like to instruct you in the ways of using your powers for destruction. You'll have a role here in destroying worlds and causing calamities to keep living beings aware of their fragility. Do you agree to this arrangement?

Clef took a moment to absorb what he was hearing. Then he smiled and laughed so hard he could barely collect himself. "Yes," he said. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" His trepidations towards violence were gone- he was no longer one of mortal creation, so why should their destruction frighten him?

"Clef," came the voice of a female researcher through the speaker attached to his chest. "This being might be tricking you. You have a pleasant life at the foundation. Come back. We'll even re-negotiate your contract if you want, we-"

"Shove it!"

"Very well. We'll have to turn to other measures, then," came the transmission as Clef threw it on the ground and stepped on it until it broke.

The ambassador guided Clef along a cobblestone road. About five minutes into their walk, they heard the sound of stampeding footsteps. Clef looked back and saw easily a hundred Mobile Task Force soldiers running in, guns at the ready, but the ambassador stepped forward and, with a flick of his wrist, caused them all to fall down dead.

"Ha. I guess that's the best they got," Clef said, turning back to follow the ambassador.

"Dad," came a female voice from behind Clef. He audibly gasped when he saw where it had come from. Standing amongst the corpses was a blonde teenage girl with furry goat legs and horns- his daughter. And she looked ready to cry. "Dad. Please come back. If you don't come back, I'll stay here."

Clef's mouth hung open as he took in the implications of that. "Honey... you have to leave. You destroy everything man-made, and this place is only made of man-made materials. There's nothing natural under it! You'd make this place fall apart. We'd all die."

The girl clenched her jaw as tears ran down her face. "If I go back without you, the foundation will kill me," she said.

"I have to protect this world," said the ambassador. "Will her powers still affect this place if she's dead?"

"Yes!" Clef screamed. "It'll make them go haywire! She'd destroy everything in a minute if you kill her, so don't even think about it!" It was a lie. Clef didn't know what would happen if his daughter died.

Grass was growing at his daughter's feet, disturbing the cobblestones. That was Clef's final straw. He ran, grabbing his daughter's hand and sprinting for the door he'd opened and thankfully not painted shut. They were through the door before Clef dared to look back.

The ambassador was not in a rush. It stepped slowly toward the door, and once it got there, pulled a paint bucket and brush out of thin air and painted the portal closed.

It made sense, Clef supposed. He was a threat to Alagadda's existence. There'd been no need to stop him from leaving.

With information on Alagadda acquired, there was no need for Clef to learn about the art of film. His mentorship was ended and he returned to his post at the Foundation. The very day he was repositioned, Clef bought himself a set of paints. He'd make something to earn his way back to the unending world of Alagadda, and this time the Foundation wouldn't interfere.

#scp foundation #alto clef #alagadda #the ambassador #scp 166 #my fanfiction

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buffyspeak · 3 months

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it feels very clear to me that the reason the mona reveal was so impactful where the other 'a' reveals were just. bizarre was because the liars genuinely DID do wrong to her when alison was around. don't get me wrong, i don't believe they deserved what she did to them - but they weren't even bystanders of alison's bullying, they were enablers, and probably at times active participants of their own accord. this is tempered by sympathetic moments with the liars regarding mona (such as aria, in the flashbacks, arguing that maybe they should wait for mona before alison steers her away, or emily apologizing to her in late season 2), but it's undeniable that the early seasons were permeated with a strong theme of having to reckon with one's past mistakes. the liars had genuine flaws, made genuine bad decisions, and even as we rooted for them, as we sympathized with them, we also understood why they were targets. (again - not that they deserved what she did. but that it made narrative SENSE.)

even outside Everything Else (TM) regarding the disastrous storyline, charlotte targeting the girls made like.... 0 sense. she says she started because she realized the girls were happy alison was gone and wanted to make them pay, but by this point in the story, we, as an audience, have seen the girls grieve for alison, then fight to uncover the truth for her, then fight to protect her. yes, they all had complicated feelings - but literally who wouldn't? charlotte's reasoning just falls flat.

i never watched most of 6b and 7, but i've long since spoiled myself so i know about alex drake lmao. and it's once again just... not narratively appealing to me. like, i guess it at least makes a little more sense than charlotte did, her wanting to uncover the truth about charlotte and begrudging the life spencer had, but once again, it's just made up of plot convolution and has nothing to do with the actions of the liars themselves.

like. the liars had genuine culpability in how mona was treated before she turned the tables on them. that's what made the original story interesting! but eventually the show got so wrapped up in Big Plot Twists (tm) that it lost the heart of what made the mystery and tragedy impactful.

#pretty little liars #pll meta

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personistired · 1 year

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Pilot for my series ‘Monster’s Guide to Average School Life’

In tears Charlotte runs up the stairs. This was a normal occurrence as school had just started up again and she had to return to the enviable. Moments like this made her glad her parents were at work as often as they were. It made her feel even more useless thinking of the idea of her parents taking time off work to handle her dumb problems. It was her fault she was a loser, not theirs.

Just as she crash lands onto her messy bed she feels something slithering by her foot. It felt like a hand. She picks up her foot and jumps away from the ledge of the bed.

The shifting and sounds of movement continue.

“…He..Hello…?” Charlotte asks scared to death. She begins to question if she locked the front door last night. Her parents always pestered her to do so and now their worst nightmares nightmare happened.

After sighing and attempting to collect herself she tries to navigate the room through her blood shot eyes. Even if she got hurt she at least wanted to go out with a fight! But before that she needed to find something to defend herself!

Her eyes immediately landed on her tennis racket from 4th grade. It’s been stagnant for years placed right by other things from activities she failed at. She stretches her arm and grapples her weapon.

And just as she did the russling started up again. She clutches the racket so close to her chest that she can feel her heart beating through her clammy palms.

As she sees a head pop out from under her bed she finically takes initiative and swings.

“Crap!”

She stopped and examined the screaming body. It looked to be in middle school, maybe the same age as her, it also was clearly a girl. Her hair was the brightest pink Charlotte ever saw and had clear pale skin.

“I’m starving!” the girl exclaims standing up and Charlotte gets a better look at her. She pushes her messy pink hair out of her sharp green eyes and digs into her back pocket to eat what looked like a week old egg sandwich.

Charlotte couldn’t help but notice her face was almost symmetrical and looked bizarre next to her old birkenstocks, Avril Lavagine shirt with holes in it, and not to mention her puke green health hazard sandwich. She looked like a model pretending to be homeless in those annoying MTV reality shows. It made Charlotte feel like she should search the room for cameras later when she takes a better glance at the girl's boney face.

“Hey uh…I have fresh food in the fridge if you want some….”

Her eyes lit up and she stared enthusiastically into Charlotte's confused face “Really? Do you have cereal? I would die for some!”

And that’s how Charlotte Dominguez ended up eating cereal at 5pm with a nameless girl who broke into her house.

“Anyways, why are you in my house anyways?” timidly questions Charlotte. The last thirty minutes has been such an emotional roller coaster she completely forgot that this girl just broke into her house.

“Well,” she says, slurping up at least a day’s worth of milk in a few seconds. “I was sent here by someone.”

#writing #story #y2k #writers on tumblr #web series #pilot episode #my writing #short story #fantasy #comedy

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alovelyburn · 2 years

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Fanfiction

Berserk

When Night Comes Down "If you stand far enough outside the tapestry, you can see the many threads and paths unwalked. The points of change can be so tiny they go unnoticed at the time... though the ripples travel for centuries and more, into eternity. Yet, in the end, all paths lead to one path. There may be deviations, yes, yet still we dance that same dance, with the steps assigned to us by fate. It is inevitable. One must die to resurrect. One must fall to rise." (GriffithxGuts, Canon Divergent AU, Mildly Racy, 13.4k and counting). Currently at Book 1/4. Posted for @berserk-pride-fest. [ tumblr | ao3 ]

Recoil & Grace Their fingers wind together in the darkness. Outside there is that ever-present chirping of birds and insects – the music of those dark hours, calming as cool water. Outside some car alarm goes off in the empty streets, and on the bedside table, clock reads 2:47am. (GriffithxGuts, Canon Timeline/AU timeline, Mildly Racy, 20k) - written for @griffgutsweekend 2022. [ tumblr | ao3 ]

This Painted Stage He can still remember that man standing atop the steps with the night wind stirring his hair. Strange, and distant and... different from Guts. From Casca, too. That feeling has been building for months, he thinks - an ongoing development as Griffith drifts toward aristocracy, and the rest of them remain rooted to the ground. (GriffithxGuts, Mildly Racy, 13k) [ tumblr | ao3 | ff.net ]

This Time the World Will Change The wall is cold against Griffith’s back tonight, and he feels it, that chill, seeping into his bones. Creaky bones, he thinks. He may as well be getting old before his time. (GriffithxGuts, mindgames and references to torture, 4k) [ tumblr | ao3 | ff.net ]

The Beginning, When It Ends Right now, at this moment, Griffith doesn't look in the least bit like the commander of thousands. Blinking, eyes wide, he looks like nothing more than a boy. And Guts can picture him sitting on his throne, crown on his head, regal and beautiful and laughing like a child. But that red egg's eyes are open, and they're looking out from between Griffith's fingers. [ ao3 ] Absent Injury How much is "too much?" How deep can a blade go, how many nerves can it sever, how many inches of flesh can it rend? Can it hit bone? Cut through? Perhaps it depends on the person -- body mass, blood loss. Then again, maybe not. Breaks are sometimes enough, even without a drop of blood. (Griffith-centric, + Griffith/Charlotte. GriffithxGuts implications. Branch AU, Quite Depressing?!, 4k) - Written for @gyodragon [ tumblr | ao3 | ff.net ] Saw the Grey ….you said, once, that light is found in darkness. They are… entwined - a string of night, a string of light, too close together to tell apart, most of the time. And the brighter the light, the greater, the deeper, the shadow it casts. That’s never been more true than it is in you. Fitting, then, that your light lives in the dark. (GriffithxGuts, kind of. 830 words.) [ tumblr | ao3 | ff.net ]

Mending Things The first thing Griffith says when Guts opens an eye is, “Don’t try to sit up.” That’s easier said than done, and despite the warning, the first thing Guts does is try to, well, get up. It’s Griffith’s hand that stops him, pressed firmly against the center of Guts’ chest - one spot that wasn’t pierced or shot through or deeply gouged by blades or arrows during that battle in the forest. ...100 men. Not a bad accomplishment, really. (GriffithxGuts feels? 1920 words.) [ tumblr ]

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

When the Feast is Over “The environment is hardly ideal, I know. I apologize. But… ” Click, clack, Dio’s heels tap against the hard stone floor. Click. Clack. Click clack. “I’m sure you’ll forgive it, in time. If I had the time, I would have brought you elsewhere - to a more familiar landscape. Something more comfortable, perhaps, but… well. You’ll understand soon enough.” The air itself is still and quiet, though. Poised. Waiting. As though the night itself is holding its breath. “Yes… I’m sure you’ll forgive this undignified way of welcoming you. ...JoJo.” - Written for @perplexingly [ tumblr | ao3 | ff.net ] Sail the Ocean Round “How long has it been, JoJo? What do you think?” Dio’s fingers stretch through the empty air, twisting lightly inside those dark curls. At least… he assumes they’re still dark. Here, there is no light, no air. Here, there is barely any space, come to that, only… “Us,” he says, softly, and his voice is like a predator’s whisper. “Only us.” (DioxJonathon, Kind of Creepy?, 3000) - Written for @perplexingly [ tumblr | ao3 | ff.net ] Of Fallen Angels It takes two weeks for him to return to that place. It’s the longest trip he’s taken in years… and each step from the taxi to the curb is a million miles more. Two, three. Pucci counts his steps, keeps his mind level. Five, seven, he’s standing at the door… (DioxPucci, Suggestive, 2.4k.) [ tumblr | ao3 | ff.net ] Said Death to the Dead Dio sits at his favorite chair by the window, a polished wood table at his side, a crystal glass (wine, red and rich) held delicately between the fingers of one hand. In the other, he holds the skull. A souvenir? A treasure? Who can even tell the difference, sometimes. (DioxJonathon, Kind of Creepy?, 600) [ tumblr | ao3 | ff.net ]

Other Misc Stuff (VERY OLD VERY OLD)

Before The World Falls Down (Buffy/Angel, Apocalypse Fic) [ AO3 ]

Desideratum (Queer As Folk US, Brian-in-Absentia) [ AO3 ]

#administrative stuff #still updating my docs sorry

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genjutsu-blog · 2 years

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Watch /Watched anime list (manga included too)

Naruto

Naruto Shippuden

One Piece

Boruto

Bleach

Dragon Ball

Kaichow wa maid-sama

Masamune-kun no revenge

Meiji Tokyo Renka

Peach Girl

Hakushaku to yousei

Ao Haru Ride

Akatsuki no Yona

Akagami no Shirayuki-hime

Bokura ga ita

Ookami Shoujo to kuro ouji (Wolf Girl Black Prince )

Tsuredure Children

Say I love you

Brothers conflict

Kyou Kara maou

Inuyasha

Itazura na Kiss

Paradise Kiss

Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun

Chuunibyou

Special A

Tonari no Kaibutsu kun

True Tears

Nisekoi

Koi to uso

True tears

Ouran High School Host Club

Kamisama Hajimemashita

Fruits Basket

Toradora

Charlotte

Angel Beats

Jojo's bizarre adventure

Kiznaiver

Bungou Stray Dogs

Noragami

Blue Exorcist

Servamp

Owari no Seraph

Magi : The Kingdom of magic

Sinbad no Bouken

BTOOM!

Baccano!

Durarara!!

Darling in the franxx

Violet evergarden

Overlord

MOB Psycho

One punch man

Kill la Kill

Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagan

Black Clover

Nanatsu no Taizai

Pokemon (all seasons)

Sword Art Online

Monogatari Series

Hyouka

Kuzu no Honkai

Tate no Yuusha

Boku no Hero Academia

Dororo

Zombieland Saga

I want to eat your pancreas

Chihayafuru

Kakegurui (including xx)

Death Parade

Soul Eater

Shokugeki no Soma

Nagi no Asukara

Denpa Onna to Seishun Otoko

Araburu Kisetsu no Otome-domo yo

Yesterday wo utatte

Kaguya Sama love is war

Boarding School Juliet

Arte

Saijaku Mujai no Bahamut

Anohana

Gakusen Toshi Asterisk

Mekakucity Actors

Dakara boku wa h ga dekinai

Re : Zero

Gabriel Dropout

Re : creators

Date a live

Tamako Market

New Game

Working!

Mahou Shoujo Ikusei Keikaku

Nanbaka

Yahari Ore no Seishun Love Come wa Machigatteiru

Little Witch Academia

The Moment You Fall in Love ( Suki ni Naru Sono Shunkan o )

Made in Abyss

Classroom of Elite

Houseki no Kuni

Punchline

Plastic Memories

Yamada-kun and the seven witches

Musaigen no Phantom World

Dagashi Kashi

Kuromukuro

Netoge no yome wa onnanoko ja nai to omotta

Kiss Note ( Renai Boukun )

Bakumatsu

itsudatte bokura no koi wa 10-centimeters datta

Miira no Kaikata

K- Project

Plunderer

Nekopara

Jibaku Shounen Hanako-kun

Show by Rock!

Show by Rock mashumairesh

227

Hunter x Hunter

Orange

Somali and the forest Spirit

Golden Time

Murenase Seton Gakuen

Happy Sugar life

Seishun buta yarou ( Bunnygirl senpai )

Black Lagoon

Sewayaki Kitsune no senko-san

Wotaku ni Koi wa Muzukashī

Deathnote

Soul eater NOT!

Akame Ga Kill

Trinity Seven

Love Live

Love Live Sunshine!

Himouto no Umaru chan

Kobayashis Dragon Maid

Eromanga sensei

Code Geass

Evangelion

Haikyuu

Guilty Crown

Beastars

Shingeki no kyojin

Oreimo

Kuroko no Basket

Hibike Euphorium

Your Lie in April

Mikagura School Suit Life

Non Non Biyori

Fate Stay Night : unlimited bladeworks

Fate Stay Night Heavens Feel

Fate Stay Night (2006)

Fate Zero

Fate Grand Order : demonic front Babylonia

Lord el Melloi II's cases

Fate Extra Last encore

Fate Apocrypha

Overlord

FairyTail

Fairytail (2014)

Fairytail Final season

Tokyo Ghoul ( including RE )

Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

Fullmetall Alchemist

High School of the dead

Prison School

Inazuma eleven

Inazuma eleven : go! (y galaxy)

The Royal Tutor

Free!

Kimetsu no Yaiba

Sailor Moon

Mermaid Melody

Vampire Knight

Fire Force

Mirai Nikki

Danganronpa

SquidGirl

Cinderella Girls

Kekkai sensen

Dance With Devils

Fuugo Keiji balance unlimited

Diavolik Lovers

Amnesia

That time I got reencarnated as a slime

Konosuba

Satsuriuki no Tenshi (Angels of death )

Vinland Saga

Katanagatari

Deadman Wonderland

Darwins Game

Makai Ouji

Gintama

Bandori

UnGo

Hataraku Saibou

Haiyore! Nyaruko-san

Natsume Yuujinchou

Tokyo Ravens

The ancient magus bride

Kuroshitsuji

Tenki no Ko

Touken Ranbu

Ma dao Zu Shi

Tokyo Revengers

Chainsaw man

Blue period

Blue flag

Blue lock

Akuma no Riddle

Yuukoku no Moriarty

Kuzu no Honkai

Devilman crybaby

#finished bleach manga long time ago #ill keep upgrading this i guess #just ignore this ty #recommendations are appreciated #anyways see ya ina few months

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basedkikuenjoyer · 1 year

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As promised, my other favorite Tobi Roppo in Who’s Who! The better catboy of Cipher Pol. On the surface, this was a cool little side story that ended up being relevant. A fallen CP9 agent punished for something that set this series in motion. But ultimately an empty grudge against Luffy. Blame Shanks or the government’s overreaction, not some kid who ate a strange fruit. Beyond that you have a simple but neat design and I very much enjoyed his fight with Jinbei from an action perspective. His name is inherently hilarious to me as well. This is the type of guy it’s fun to hate. Kinda like Flampe. You’re just so over the top mouthy and cocky it’s all the sweeter watching Shark Daddy drop the hammer. Good example of someone I feel like I saw the perfect amount of.

With all that out of the way...let’s talk about that “wasp nest” square a bit. Because the clash with Jinbei, to me, felt like one of the most clever little flourishes of Wano. Especially if some of my interpretation of the arc pays off:

Here’s the basic idea. At first glance, Who’s Who’s dialogue is a clever way of foreshadowing Nika before the big reveal with Luffy. Though...is it really that clever? It’s kind of clunky if I’m being honest. Very tell, not show. What interests me the most is Jinbei’s dismissive reaction. Brushing it aside the same way he would casual racism being tossed in his direction. Remember, my money’s on the idea we’re going for more of a subversion of the “Chosen One” trope, or at least something played a little more complex. This fight was my first hint, and not just in hindsight. Even before we saw the Nika reveal, I thought the things Who’s Who were dropping might just me red herrings. The idea that Wano is a Kabuki revue challenging you to pluck out the most important threads hidden under flashier ones with less substance. This one? It feels like the moment the curtain flutters a bit, let’s you peek into what’s really going on. Forget what Who’s Who is saying, trust Jinbei’s reaction to it. Because Jinbei’s the one who isn’t caught up in the pomp and circumstance around this Raid.

The more I see since then, the more I feel secure in something of that nature paying off. But this fight is a key foundation in how I felt that way. So yeah...in a vacuum I probably don’t like Who’s Who quite as much as I do say, Ulti & Page One. But for supporting villains like this, how they’re used is everything. Same reason Amande is a favorite Charlotte; she was that right blend of visible but never had to be overcome. So she still feels so sinister. Who’s Who gets the spot though because of just how much I enjoy this truly bizarre clash. You might have also gathered I’m a fan of Jinbei over the course of this blog, and a villain depends on the hero who defeats him.

#one piece #who's who #50 follower spectacular #Shark Daddy #character bingo

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inimikal-archive · 2 years

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victor has taken to climbing on wesker's shoulders, screeching gleefully. charlotte is fretting in the background, shouting at her brother to leave the poor man alone.

His whole body becomes stiff with this. It takes every ounce of him not to grab the boy & throw him like a bizarre animal into the vast yonder, not caring how or where he landed. But here in this strange world, Wesker was not attempting to make any unnecessary enemies. Besides. The girl had been ... Amicable enough. He felt he owed her some sense of civility. & this ... boy seemed to be having a jolly good time. So jolly he couldn't be the one to spoil it, could he ?

Muscles tense, he turns to face her, his discomforted demeanour halfway like a cat who had just had a bucket of water dumped over it & a deer who had been frozen in headlights.

❝ Charlotte, dear, would you mind "helping" your ... Companion to dismount me at once. ❞ At this moment, he realised he didn't know who Victor was; he hadn't looked that far into it.

#⊰ ° ‧: ｡* ⚘ 💀 ━◞ In Character ⊱#⊰ ° ‧: ｡* ⚘ 💀 ━◞ 𝓜𝓾𝓼𝓮 ↝ Wesker ⊱#⊰ ° ‧: ｡* ⚘ 💀 ━◞ 𝓕𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓶 ↝ Resident Evil ⊱#⊰ ° ‧: ｡* ⚘ 💀 ━◞ 𝓥𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓮 ↝ Requiem of the wretched :: DBD ⊱#ASH THIS IS SO FUNNY IM SJFHJFKDKFDf #weskers screaming crying shaking throwing up in spirit #so imagining victor parting on on weskers shoulders like the jocky from l4d while wesker starts there trying to go insane #im weeping omfg

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worksinprogress1 · 5 months

Text

Another strategy had been tried: training researchers in the way of fine arts and positioning them to be chosen by the Ambassador, such that they might enter Alagadda as a welcome presence.

Unfortunately, the results were the same for every researcher-turned-artist who had gone through this process: once they entered Alagadda, nothing could get them to leave.

"There is one more thing we could try," said one shadowy O5 council member to the board after yet another researcher had been lost to the strange realm. "We could send someone who is impervious to most otherworldly influences. Who has reality-warping powers of his own. Who would never choose art over the violence we let him inflict.”

Another council member, the oldest, looked across to her, eyes sharp. "Alto Clef is an important asset to the Foundation. And moreover, letting him into a realm we know nothing about given his… personal characteristics… could have any number of consequences.”

The eldest member sat back, steepled his hands, and thought for a moment. “Very well," then." he said finally. "We will set him up with Mahavira Madhvacharya for art film mentorship and see what happens. But if he dies, or worse, converts, you may very be terminated for it.”

The woman nodded. “That's a risk I'm willing to take.”

—-

Charlotte shuddered and screamed as millipedes coated in fake blood crawled from her mouth. Her writhing on the floor was a bit of overacting that her director had demanded, but the rest of her reaction was genuine. Her joke of a "director" had insisted that nothing else would do.

“Cut!” Alto Clef yelled, prompting the poor actress to roll over onto her hands and knees and spit out the bugs. “Someone get me a lemon drop French martini," Clef ordered. "We start filming again in seventeen and a half minutes. I want twenty more takes of this by the time the day’s out.”

The actress spat out one last grub and looked at Clef in absolute disdain. “What,” she demanded, “is the point of having six bug-vomiting scenes in a film about children’s drawings?”

Clef lounged back in his director’s chair and smiled ghoulishly at her. “It’s about how human expression is painful, or something. I don’t know, it’s fun for me.”

Charlotte looked over to the renowned but retired art director, Mahavira Madhvacharya, who was sat next to his spoiled little protégé in a similar chair. Unfortunately but unsurprisingly, he seemed perfectly at peace with things. The man loved watching the creative process of "young and blossoming artists" the way some liked watching the bizarre films he'd spent decades of his life creating. It's why he'd chosen to spend his retirement mentoring anyone who wanted to be mentored. "A film does need to be enjoyed, eh, Alto? No meaning will be absorbed without pleasure, surely. But you have to consider what the audience will like, too, no? Don't become too wrapped up in your own preferences."

"Yeah. Sure. I'll think about it," Clef said. He surely would not think about it. He didn't give a damn about children's drawings. Not like his kid could make him any that wouldn't disintegrate in a day from merely being artifical and in her radius. No hand-drawn Father's Day cards for him, just the flowers that sprouted from the wreckage of her containment cell whenever it went too long without replacement.

As Clef returned home to the base that night and did his one-hour off-key ukele solo, he thought to himself, "This is the life." He thought he had it made on the base tormenting SCPs and his coworkers all day, but this. He had a whole year where his "job" was basically to boss people around and make them do whatever he wanted. Sure, they were supposed to move on to other stages of film-making eventually, but he wasn't going to let that happen. And as for the idea that this would make an artist out of him, well, that there was even less chance of.

Yes, as Clef settled down for the night, he was absolutely certain that he'd never go to Alagadda. This would be a fun year, and then he'd go back to his old life. He fell asleep peacefully, blissfully unaware that he was being watched.

That night, Clef dreamt. He was standing in a dark void, and then an explosion occurred, sending fractals of light and particles in every direction. From there were images of things Clef would never have been able to describe.

Clef watched as an alien-looking, water-dwelling jellyfish creature taught a smaller creature of its species- its young, perhaps- to forge ornate glass vases using the heat of hydrothermal vents. After a while, Clef was torn away from their cozy home. He saw its beautiful glass exterior, and then, as he continued to be pulled away, he saw a city of similar ones. He was pulled further and saw more cities, then pulled from the ocean and into the sky, where he saw alien plant life and beautiful cities of stone on the planet's landmasses. And then he saw a tiny blip in the water- the rainbow-coloured corpse of the parental jellyfish. But the cities, the art, the legacy remained.

Clef's alarm went off the next morning at six sharp. He rushed through his usual work out regimen feeling especially amped, adrenaline pushing him through more chin ups than he'd ever accomplished as his mind raced. He had to get back on set. He had to do what those jellyfish were doing.

When Clef arrived on set, he was surprised at first to find that everyone there aside from Madhvacharya looked bored and annoyed with him. But of course they did- he'd been treating this privilege as a joke. "Everyone but Madhvacharya, take the day off," Clef announced. "I need to make some changes to the script. You'll be paid in full."

The actress turned away in annoyance and began walking away, no doubt wondering what fresh torture Clef was cooking up for her.

Clef had no time to worry about that. He took to the side of the old director, who had already been seated beside the director's chair. "Alright. We have to make some changes," he started, putting his chair opposite the directors and sitting to face him. "First, I want the protagonist to be vomiting coloured paint, not bugs. We can use some kind of practical effects to make the colours cover the whole room to show what art does to the world. The windows should become coloured glass. And I want her to survive it. Second, I want this movie to actually be good. You'll have to teach me how to do that."

Madhvacharya smiled enthusiastically and stood up with all the energy his old bones could muster. "I knew you'd find your inner artist," he drawled, "All my protégés do in time."

They began to walk to the desk on which Clef would plan his masterpiece.

"Though, then they tend to disappear..."

---

Weeks passed. Every night, Clef dreamt of art being created by aliens, proto-humans, and even by what seemed like biblical angels. Every day, he woke up and worked on the film, incorporating what he saw or what he'd learned from it. Everyone but Madhvacharya was furious with the constant change, but Clef didn't care. He had eight months left to create his masterpiece. The film wouldn't be publishable by the end of the year, and Madhvacharya would make limited copies of the film and move on to his next protégé, but that was fine. Clef accepted it. He'd keep his copy, share his art with anyone he could, carry the skills into smaller, hobbyist projects afterward, and let that be enough. He'd even started trying to play his ukele well.

That was, until the night of September 28th. On that night, Clef dreamt again of the jellyfish creating blown glass. This time it was a master artist creating a great glass structure as many others followed suit, waving their tentacles around in rows of hydrothermal vents like a university classroom attempting to emulate an esteemed professor.

And then the earth began to shake and rumble, and every last glass structure shattered as the jellyfish panicked. Once again, Clef began to zoom out of the scene, first from the ocean and then from their atmosphere, backing away just in time to see an asteroid reduce their planet to shards of rock.

Dull shards of rock. They must have been miles in legnth, but from Clef's perspective, they were like particles of glass. Clef's scientific knowledge told him that every last shard of actual glass from the planet must have been melted now.

Gone.

Clef was hyperventilating. Once he would have enjoyed such destruction. But now...

From there, Clef saw the particles of the planet disperse and stars in the sky explode, one by one, until the sky was empty. What looked like a biblical angel floated a few feet from his face, and Clef thought that surely it couldn't die. Surely it wouldn't be destroyed by time as well. But it, too, exploded in a flower of blood and viscera.

And then, Clef heard music. He turned, and he saw a beautiful city with strange geometries, painted in red, white, yellow and black and decorated in all forms of art, most of which Clef had never seen before, even in his dreams. He even spotted a palace made of coloured glass, even grander than the ones he'd seen underwater. Clef came towards the city, and as he stepped into its streets, he began to feel safe again. This place wouldn't crumble. It would outlast the very universe and then the universe after it.

Then, Clef's alarm went off. He turned it off, cold with sweat and heart racing.

"We need to start all over," Clef said.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Charlotte shouted at him. "For what? So you can keep overloading this movie with weird shit that no one is going to understand?"

As recently as yesterday, Clef would have snarked at her in response. Today, all that escaped his lips were the words, "I don't know."

How could he make something that mattered? He needed his work to be seen, worshipped, its message known, but even if it was, it would all disappear in the end. He looked over to Madhvacharya, whose face had fallen. "I don't know," he repeated, hoping that his mentor would have the answer.

"Alright, now leave me alone," Clef ordered. "And have someone bring me a martini. My usual order."

"Very well," Madhvacharya said, turning to leave.

Clef faced the paper, his mind empty. Minutes passed, and he tried writing the easiest story he could think of, a simple torture-and-murder type thing that he'd fantasize about on his coffee breaks in the Foundation. He didn't have the words even for that.

Clef's lack of inspiration continued for several days, and the dreams had stopped entirely. Filming continued as Clef directed, his eyes glazed over and the wheels of his mind spinning as he tried to fix his film. The actors were glad for the lack of changes, which annoyed him. Why hadn't he taken the time to enjoy their misery before? He couldn't now. The halls of the foundation had grown quiet from the lack of Clef's ukele solos.

Weeks later, Clef finally had a dream again. No imagery, just a single voice, deep and androgunous and smooth.

Show me who you are, it said. Express yourself. Show me that you are worthy.

The next morning, Clef came into filming, loaded his arms with all the art supplies he could carry, and ran back home. Frenzied, he ran through his unit at the Foundation, coating everything with red and black. That wasn't enough. Home wasn't where he was most himself and he knew it. He took his cans of red and black, with white and yellow, too, for good measure, and stumbled into the SCP research center. He threw a bucket of yellow paint on the ground and began spreading it before he realized that this wasn't enough, either. No. He knew what he must do.

Clef made his way over to SCP 682's containment cell, opened it with his keycard, and threw black paint into the vat of acid containing the anomaly. In its subdued and tortured state, the creature did not react. Once at a safe distance and out of the creature's eyesight, Clef pushed the button to collapse the tank of acid and watched as the reptile thrashed about, roaring and spilling paint everywhere. Soon, the blood of some unfortunate personnel would join the black.

Yes. This was him. He was pure chaos and destruction. This was the self-expression the voice had commanded of him. He could feel it. A bit longer and he'd be done.

At some point during Clef's artistic rampage, in which six more SCPs were released and he faced a strange lack of interference, something was said over the intercom. Clef scarcely registered it. At some point, cameras, microphones, and a harness were put on his body by other members of the SCP personnel. He didn't notice. At the end of twenty minutes, the SCPs were once again contained and Clef found himself painting a door of white on a wall of black. When he was finished, he stepped through the door.

From the control room, several researchers were gathered to watch through Clef's cameras. Through it, they saw a world of four colours: red, black, yellow, and white- though Clef was, for the first time, seeing it with every colour he knew of and some he hadn't. The realm's citizens, all clad in masquerade masks, were strange and alien. Some even floated as though through water. The world's structures and geometries were downright bizarre. The camera on Clef's chest heaved as he took several sighs of relief. And then he noticed the equipment that had been attached to him.

"Ha, you thought you'd try to pull me back if I went local, huh? Well, I'm not going to be held back by some stupid leash."

"Okay, let's reel him back," the head researcher ordered through a walkie-talkie, and on the opposite side of the door, three guards began to heave the cord that connected Clef to the real world. Clef fell backward, but then he used his reality-warping powers to undo the harness. The three guards, suddenly pulling at an empty leash instead of against a man, fell backward.

"What do we do?" asked a scientist from the control room.

"We learn what we can learn from the cameras," said the lead scientist, "and if need be, use our last resort."

The being stomped the ground, and a portal showing all of the universe opened up beneath it. You see, for people to crave creativity, immortality, and all else that our world depends on for its new members, they must fear death and destruction. We will make sure you have time to create, but we would also like to instruct you in the ways of using your powers for destruction. You'll have a role here in destroying worlds and causing random calamities to keep living beings aware of their fragility. Do you agree to this arrangement?

Clef took a moment to absorb what he was hearing. Then he smiled and laughed so hard he could barely collect himself. "Yes," he said. "Yes! Yes! Yes!" Now he would be able to cause more calamity than the SCP foundation ever would have allowed him! The trepidations he'd had before were gone- he was no longer one of mortal creation, so why should their destruction frighten him?

"Clef," came the voice of a female researcher through the speaker attached to his chest. "This being might be tricking you. You know that your life is pleasant at the foundation. Come back. We'll even re-negotiate your contract if you want, we-"

"Shove it."

"Very well. We'll have to turn to other measures, then." With that, the transmission ended.

"Dad," came a female voice from behind Clef. It was a blonde teenage girl with furry grey goat legs and horns. His daughter. And she looked ready to cry. "Dad. Please come back. If you don't come back, I'll stay here."

Clef's mouth hung open as he took in the implications of that. "Honey... you have to leave. Your powers will destroy this place. It's entirely made of man-made materials and some of them are really processed! There's nothing natural under it. You'd the whole world collapse in on itself!"

The girl clenched her jaw as tears ran down her face. "If I go back without you, the foundation will kill me," she said.

"I have to protect this world," said the ambassador. "Will her powers still affect this place if she's dead?"

"Yes!" Clef screamed. "In fact, it'll make them go haywire! This place will be destroyed in a minute if you kill her, so don't even think about it!" It was a lie. Clef didn't know what would happen if his daughter died. He had to think of a way out of this.

The ambassador was not in a rush. It stepped slowly toward the door, and once it got there, pulled a paint bucket and brush out of thin air and painted the portal closed.

It made sense, Clef supposed. He was a threat to Alagadda's existence. There'd been no need to stop him from leaving.

With information on Alagadda acquired, there was no need for Clef to be learning about the art of film. His mentorship was ended and he returned to his post at the Foundation. The very day he was repositioned, Clef bought himself a set of paints. He'd make something to earn his way back to the unending world of Alagadda, and this time the Foundation wouldn't interfere.

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charleslebatman · 6 months

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Aaaah mais ce je t’aime est réciproque 🫶 ça fait trop du bien de trouver quelqu’un qui me comprend et en français s’il vous plaît 😭 j’imagine deux secondes Alex tomber dessus, il faut sachez que ça me fait beaucoup rire 😭

Mais oui j’étais comme une folle pour les likes. Charles est mon pilote préféré donc bon mine de rien sa vie privée impacte beaucoup sa carrière et c’est vrai que sur la fin j’avais du mal avec Charlotte a cause de toutes les histoires d’influence etc. Mais en fait c’était mille fois mieux à ce moment là que maintenant, je préfère encore ses baskets affreuses et sa fausse marque de bijoux qu’une nana raciste et qui peut aimer des tweets aussi dangereux que ça. C’est terrible d’être aussi déconnecté de la réalité comme ça.

Et je suis plutôt d’accord avec toi, je pense que beaucoup de choses se sont accumulés pour que Charlotte se barre. Le master, la pression, peut-être qu’ils se prenaient beaucoup la tête par rapport à sa carrière à elle et à lui, les fans, peut-être que Charles était particulièrement chiant à cette période aussi 😂 puis oui, elle s’en est vraiment pris plein la gueule et malgré tout, je pense qu’elle méritait clairement pas ça.

Oh tu rates rien au niveau de GP malheureusement. Je crois encore en une reputation era pour Charles, qui plaque tout (surtout Alex) et qui donne tout pour remporter le titre. Je peux plus me voir ces sponsors et c’est ce que je disais à une bestie aussi (j’aime trop ce terme je te le vole ahah), j’ai peur que plus Charles deviendra connu, plus ce genre de choses va arriver. T’imagines bien que s’il devient champion, avec Ferrari qui plus est, on va le voir de par-tout. C’est à double tranchant quoi. Et je vois le comparatif avec Oscar c’est trop vrai!! C’est un petit coeur 🥹

Alors oui Amélie et la langue française c’est toute une histoire et c’est terrible comme « il faut sachez » est rentré dans mon vocabulaire du quotidien. On a vraiment eu notre lot d’expressions avec Secret Story on va pas se mentir 😂

Oh putain, j’ai mon côté veille aigrie française aujourd’hui. C’est une catastrophe. Apparemment, elle avait l’air soûlé que Shiga la photographie tout le temps. J’y crois pas une seconde.

J’ai jamais vraiment pris partie pour Charlotte parce que je sentais, je sais pas, qu’elle était dans un trop. Puis quand elle a dit qu’elle était encore étude et surtout dernière année, j’ai vraiment eu de la compassion. Ces arnaques bien-sûr que c’était grave et tout, mais au moins c’était clair. Ici, mais non dieu, si les gens cherchent la définition de fourberie qu’ils s’intéressent à eux. 😂

Je vais bientôt devenir, oscarlepeterparker ou oscarlespiderman. 😂 Franchement, en vieillissant on est censé prendre en maturité. Certes protéger sa vie privée, mais ça c’est n’importe quoi bestie. C’est pas le Charles que l’on a vu évolué au fil des ans. Certes ça reste toujours une image marketing, mais ça veut pas dire qu’il ne doit pas avoir d’authenticité.

Lewis a pris un vrai tournant influence à un réel moment de sa carrière. Il avait je ne sais combien de championnats, il avait un nom international qui toucher absolument tout le monde. C’était réfléchi et intelligent, là ça devient une sorte de YouTuber qui cache ses partenariats à gogos.

La vidéo de Squeezie était intelligente, je m’étais dit “ah, ça y’est il a compris où mettre le curseur.” Ptdrrr tu parles, il est entrain de le pousser jusqu’à le faire exploser. La seule authenticité et le moment où je redeviens une réelle fan, c’est quand je le vois avec Max. 😭

Il a tout le temps un côté blasé et condescendant depuis sa rupture avec Charlotte. C’est trop bizarre. La private joke de pop star est entrain de devenir réel vraiment et vraiment pas de la bonne manière…

#🇫🇷 bestie

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the-firebird69 · 8 months

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The small ships are moving out from clewiston South to the point almost on land there's holes there are 50 to 120 ft and tons of small chips are coming out like bugs probably about 3500 a minute in the whole area and offshore it's about 2,500 a minute and they're coming out of Charlotte again and they're coming out about to 10 miles south I'll punta Gorda probably fort Myers line or North fort Myers line and there's a lot of them and it's offshore there but wow that's a lot they're really moving it and we think they probably will have them all out offshore in that particular area which is a segment about 70 miles long and they're 20 and 30s and there's five total and there's about 320 mild diamonds and 230s that's right there's only one h and which is rare no and behind them in front of them are a bunch of tens and fives and twos and those don't take long to pull out usually the 20 or 30 I stuck there and went to break with a stuck to come out is it backed up behind it not in front of it it's very bizarre that's normal and anyone would think it is yes and the 20 and 30 don't really block the whole tunnel sometimes they move in their own and they're jammed in there and some of the small diamonds are behind it and debris and rocks they'll clear the way pull the diamonds on front sometimes it starts moving and they think it's great and they're trying to go under it and they die they go all the way around they find it's only moved a few inches and at the end of the day it's about 3 ft then it starts rolling and yeah it's kind of going down at first we got pull it out sometimes it just keeps rolling but they know that these five will go where they're talking about clearing the whole tunnel have to go both ways that's why they're coming out on land no the other way that they come out is usually like Okeechobee and they did that they emptied it but they're tributaries are empty there's a good reason for that do you want if they pull the diamonds out they're still in the water pressure will destroy them and it's a whole bunch of people fighting over each tributary and each line and right now McDonald's have one the max have two the molok have one and they fight over it and the clones have one overseas the foreigners have some they're fighting like hell now

This is on and it's going to begin a series of things that happened like this a whole huge series will start they'll see the diamonds come out for real the ocean will drop offshore but to the South and the floor will drop it's not going to drop too much they'll drop offshore and the shelf itself doesn't move and it'll only drop about 5 to 10 miles and 5 mi inland and 10 miles a little out further maybe 5 miles past the holes that's not that much there are other holes out there a little bit bigger and then there's a series of holes that are gigantic the clearing these first because there's too much muck to go through and they may stall the engines out and the monk might disappear as things grow and believe it or not the plant life and algae might suck it up a lot of it their miles of it offshore but it's too deep to do anything there's a few other things happening here and we'll Post in a moment

Thor Freya

Olympus

Good. Good things

Hera

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m-ultraarticles · 1 year

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UFC Charlotte results: Mandy Bohm wins split decision in bizarre fight with two illegal strikes, point deduct… - MMA Fighting

Filed under:Mandy Bohm will leave UFC Charlotte with a win on her record over Ji Yeon Kim after one of the strangest fights in recent memory.The bizarre moments began when Kim was deducted a point by referee Larry Carter after she kicked Bohm off of her at the end of the round. The kick came well after the horn sounded, so Carter penalized Kim and took a point away from the scorecards.Mandy Bohm…

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#U.S. News #USA

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yuuniee · 2 years

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(i accidentally sent the other ask sksjsj) vivienne schönheit + 🦁, asif kadr alnazar + 🌟 and charlotte mari llewellyn + heartslabyul bois (if is not posssibe then just riddle <3)

A/N: My gOd this took a lot of time since I wasn’t looking here... I’m sorry. 😭

But hey, your ask found its answer at last! 🤭

💧 Vivienne Schönheit 💧

(ft. Leona)

Their relationship is a little.. complicated, actually.

I must say, on Vivienne’s point of view, Leona seems like a tough but nice person. He doesn’t work a lot, and even if she hates his laziness, she doesn’t tell it straight to his face. Her brother does tho :)

On Leona’s point of view, however, she is just like Kalim. A happy go lucky person who is seemingly too pure for this world. But she doesn’t annoy him too much, so it’s fine.

💧 “Good morning, Leona-san~!” 😊

🦁 “...Mornin’.” 😒

💧 “😊”

📖 Asif Kadr Alnazar 📖

(ft. Kalim)

They are actually like brothers! But Jamal doesn’t approve that-

Asif always puts his juniors under his protective wings, and that includes his dorm leader who also happens to be his junior. He always smiles and greets him with a bright smile. After classes, if Jamil is not available, Asif is the one who offers to help. Kalim usually refuses that, but there are times where he happily accepts that help~

Kalim, on the other hand, often offers gifts, golds and gems as a gift of gratitude which Asif refuses. He wants to be helpful to him too, you know? Oh, and also!! Let’s not forget that he listens to the stories that Asif often tells to his dorm members, he likes his stories after all!

🦦 “The story you told was wonderful, Asif! I didn’t know you could come up with such wonderful stories!” 😲

📖 “I only indulged my dorm members with something entertaining, Kalim. After all, we do need some time of relaxation after classes.” 😌

🦦 “But it’s still amazing!” 😁

📖 “Ahaha, thank you. Maybe you can join me next time too.” 😊

🦦 “Oh, I’d LOVE to!” 😊

🎩 Charlotte Mari Llewellyn 🎩

(ft. Ace, Deuce, Trey, Cater and Riddle)

Charlotte thinks Ace is kind of annoying with his pranks, but finds his card tricks impressive. Oh, and she ruffles his hair whenever he annoys her.

Ace thinks she has some loose screws, but a good girl besides that. Also, he appreciates the hat she gave to him on his birthday, but doesn’t really show it. (He even laughed at her when she gave it to him..)

♥️ “Charlotte, would you give me a hand on feeding those flamingoes please?” 😞

🎩 “Sorry, Acey. I’m a bit busy painting the roses right now...” 😅

♥️ “Oh, come on! Can’t you stop for a moment to help a fellow dormmate?” 🥺

🎩 “If I do, Dorm Head Riddle will have both of our heads... I’m sure we don’t want this to happen, right?” 😔

♥️ “Oh, for Seven’s sake..!” 💢 💢 💢

She thinks Deuce is a decent person, unlike his roommate. Maybe a bit loud than she thinks, but still a good boy. She also ruffles his hair like she does to Ace!!

Deuce, on the other hand, thinks she is a nice person who does her best to help everyone around her. Maybe a little too much, but still...

♠️ “Charlotte? What are you doing in this late hour?”

🎩 “Making a hat?”

♠️ “For?”

🎩 “I was tired of studying, so I decided to make a hat.”

♠️ “B-but you are upside down!”

🎩 “Yeah, so?”

♠️ “You might fall down..!”

🎩 “...How cute of you to be concerned about me, Deucey... But as you can see, I’m fine!”

♠️ “(sigh)...”

Her relationship with Riddle is... complicated. I mean, she respects and looks up to him a lot. But at the same time, she fears him just as much. That doesn’t make her give up from her hat making hobby, though.

Riddle thinks she is quite.. out of line. Showing up to the unbirthday parties with bizarre hats, randomly making the chairs and the tables float in the air, painting the roses in different shades of red... But she immediately fixes her mistakes whenever she is warned or her head is offed.

🌹 “For the last time, Charlotte. You must stop showing up with bizarre hats for an unbirthday party.” 😒

🎩 “Sorry, Dorm Head Riddle.” 😔

[Charlotte takes her hat off, revealing a much smaller hat]

🌹 “Nnngh..!” 😡 💢

🎩 “Are you alright, Dorm Head Riddle? You seem a bit.. red. I don’t think I’ve painted your face red...” 🤭

🌹 “UGIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!!!” 😡😡😡

Her relationship with Trey is quite well, actually. She often helps him out in the kitchen like bringing the flour, doing the dishes, or putting the plate on the tables.

On his end, Trey is a little embarrassed that someone is willing to help him. Whenever he needs help, he reluctantly calls Charlotte in and asks for help. She agrees, obviously! She thinks that as the vice dorm leader, Trey has a ton of responsibilities. These may wear him down, so she helps him to share the weight.

♣️ “Charlotte, can you come with me for a moment please?”

🎩 “Yes, Trey-senpai? Is there something you need me to do?”

♣️ “I was gonna ask if you can buy some eggs and some corn starch...”

🎩 “From Mr. Sam’s shop?”

♣️ “Yeah, obviously. Could you be hurry though? The unbirthday party must be ready with everything, or else--”

🎩 “Dorm Head will have both of our heads? I know, Trey-senpai... I’ll be quick as soon as possible.”

♣️ “...I’m counting on you.”

Her relationship with Cater... She likes his Magicam posts and sees them as a little fragments of memories. She thinks he likes to keep those memories. But whenever she is the one who gets in the view, she looks away and often covers the camera (or her face) with a hat.

Him, on the other hand, sees her as a fun and outgoing troublemaker who never gives them a break. When she hides her face, or covers the camera, he pretends to be frustrated, but gets the message of her not wanting to be disturbed.

♦️ “Charlotte-chan, again?” 😔

🎩 “I’m sorry, Cater-senpai... But you know I hate it when there is a camera on my face.” 😐

♦️ “Just this once~ Can’t you let it slide?” 🥺

🎩 “...Oh, for Seven’s sake...”

(SNAP!)

🎩 “There we go, happy?”

♦️ “Yep! Thank you~!”

🎩 “Eh, don’t mention it.”

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corisanna · 2 years

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Gift Story

Here is a gift short story for @catboy-von-seckendorff‘s Domestic Witches AU, specifically the Baby Anthony sub-AU. For people who have been following the blog, I am Sandy-anon.

Thanks for breaking my writer’s block, catboy.

Note: The girls are 18-19 when this happens.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Oktavia sprinted through the witch's labyrinth in search of Mami and Kyoko, following the trail of her waving Anthonies. She mowed through the witch's familiars with a strength born of desperation and launched her blades at the final door to the center of the labyrinth. She leapt through the hole she made and stopped to quickly look around and assess the situation, summoning more blades as she did so.

The bizarre landscape of sand dunes and boardwalk roller coasters was a wreck from battle. The giant woman-like witch with whirling sand for hair was beating the ground like a kid throwing a tantrum. Oktavia could feel her pain and wished to help her but could sense that she was just too far gone to soothe. Her heart broke for her sister witch. Off to Oktavia's left, Kyoko and Mami were sprawled out with limbs in awkward positions, beaten down from battle. Oktavia could feel that Kyoko's magic was strong, but Mami's was murky. But one of Oktavia's Anthonies was desperately siphoning darkness from Mami's Soul Gem like Oktavia did sometimes. Black energy crackled around him but he kept going.

"Anthony, stop!" Oktavia screamed.

He turned his fluffy cotton ball head to look at her, but it was too late. The black energy exploded and a Grief Seed started to form above him. Oktavia screamed and rushed forward, shifting into her true form as she went, hoping to get him away from Kyoko and Mami before they could be trapped in a second labyrinth. She roughly scooped him up in one armored hand and powered herself forward and away as she felt the large spiked ring of the forming Grief Seed condense. The black energy burst forth from between her fingers and a labyrinth formed around her.

How? How was this possible?! Her little Anthony--!

When the unreality settled, Oktavia found herself in what seemed like a small copy of her own labyrinth. Very small. Instead of rows of plush concert hall seats, there were just a ring of various kinds of chairs set in a circle three rows deep. The not-too-distant walls reminded her of the walls of their home, just warped as if viewed from underwater. In the center of the ring of chairs was a miniature copy of her own throne, scaled down to the size of a recliner.

On the throne was a tiny witch. It-- he???-- looked like a miniature imitation of her own armored mermaid form. He was only the size of... maybe a small toddler? His armor had different decorative patterns on it and his different cape's bow was long and yellow instead of her short and pink, but he was definitely very much inspired by her own form.

What the hell was happening? She had heard of familiars maturing into witches but had never seen it happen before. Was that what was happening?

Her transformed familiar was not sitting on his throne as she had at her rebirth. Instead, he was flopping around the seat like a landed fish with a toy sword in his hand. Oktavia felt pity and guilt that she had arrived too late to prevent his transformation. This was her fault. But it was early enough that she should be able to bring him back. Probably. Maybe. Would a familiar be different?

"Anthony, do you understand me?" Oktavia tried carefully.

The transformed Anthony stilled for a moment, then resumed his flopping with more excitement and waving of his arms.

Okay. Was that a yes? What now?

After some thought, she said, "I'm going to pick you up, okay?"

He just kept flopping. Okay.

How would she pick up someone so tiny with her big hands? She had been afraid of hurting Charlotte before. She had managed after awhile but still had some issues with more delicate things. Well... the little witch seemed to be a little bigger than Charlotte's doll form. But he was moving so much. That could make it harder.

"Anthony, can you lay still for me?"

He just kept flopping.

Oktavia sighed. After some thought, she slowly reached forward and carefully broke the arms off the throne. Sides no longer blocked, she carefully brought both hands together from its sides and cupped them to scoop up the little witch. She brought him up to her face to look at him more closely.

"Anthony, do you understand me?"

He flopped excitedly and reached up for her face. His only reply was incomprehensible babble in a very young voice. That might be a no. She sighed and lowered her armored face in disappointment. What to do? How could she bring him back by talking him down if he couldn't understand her?

The little witch reached up with all his might and managed to touch her chin. He gave a little squeal of happiness. The labyrinth wobbled around her and faded like when other witches were talked down. What? What had happened?

They reappeared in the sandy labyrinth just as Kyoko and Mami struck a final dual attack on the first witch. The original labyrinth wobbled around them and disappeared, leaving them in an alley. Mami sighed and retrieved the Grief Seed before looking up at Oktavia.

"How did it go?" Mami asked.

Oktavia looked down at her transformed Anthony. "He did turn into a witch, but he is very weak. I think I talked him down somehow. I don't know how, though. He doesn't seem to understand me."

"Oh?" Kyoko said with interest.

Oktavia looked down at Anthony and tried again. "Do you understand me, Anthony?"

Babble.

She took a deep breath and spoke in the language of witches. "D̶̫̍o̴̩͆ ̷̦̀y̸̫͝o̴̍ͅȗ̴̬ ̵̫̏ù̶͉n̷̘̏d̴̞̄e̶͓̽ŕ̸̝š̴ͅț̶̈ȁ̷̰n̷͎͠d̷͍́ ̷̺̚m̷̹͒e̵̳͝,̸͚͂ ̷̠̌Å̵͔n̴̘̈́t̵̲́h̴̤̾o̵̥̓n̴̘̉y̸̧̍?̵͔̿"

He flailed and squealed. Then he spoke his first word. "M̵̗̤̘̟̒͘å̵̖̼̙m̸̩̜̥̽̂͋͝a̸̤̯̦̬̓."

Oktavia almost dropped him. "What?"

"What? What did he say?" Mami asked.

Oktavia ignored her and stared in shock. "Å̵͔n̴̘̈́t̵̲́h̴̤̾o̵̥̓n̴̘̉y̸̧̍?̵͔̿"

Anthony wiggled and repeated, "M̵̗̤̘̟̒͘å̵̖̼̙m̸̩̜̥̽̂͋͝a̸̤̯̦̬̓!"

Oktavia just stared in silence.

"You're freaking us out, now, Tavi," Kyoko said. "What's happening?"

Oktavia shifted to human form, shrinking down so she was holding him out in front of her by the armpits. He really was the size of not quite a toddler. He giggled and waved his tail forward and back in excitement. His head tilted as though curious. Looking at her closely, Oktavia thought.

"Oktavia," Mami prodded.

"He... he keeps calling me mama," Oktavia said numbly.

"What?" Kyoko said incredulously, the hint of a laugh in her voice.

Oktavia looked up at her. "Mama. He keeps calling me mama."

"Mmmm," Anthony said. They all looked at him. He suddenly shifted into human form and Oktavia found herself holding a baby. "Mmm aaa. Mmmama!" he said with a big smile as he waved his little legs forward and back like he had his tail.

"What the f--" Kyoko started.

Mami smacked her up the back of her head with a scowl. "Little ears!"

Oktavia kept holding up her now-a-baby Anthony and staring at him as her brain struggled to reset itself. "Mama?" she wondered to herself.

"Mmmama!" Anthony said.

"I can't be a mom!" Oktavia shrilled.

"You're Mama to Yuma and Charlotte," Mami reminded her.

"I can't have a baby!" Oktavia specified.

Kyoko's lips quirked into a smirk. "Think you're stuck."

Oktavia whipped her head to glare at her. "You mean we're all stuck! We live together!"

Kyoko's face sobered. "Oh. Right."

Oktavia could feel her face shifting into panic. "Do you know how to take care of a baby?!" she shrilled. She turned on Mami. "Do you?!"

Mami and Kyoko stared at her in blank surprise before looking as panicked as Oktavia felt.

Oktavia raised her voice and continued, "We have nothing for a baby! We can't feed him! We need stuff like... like... oh my god, diapers. And... and... oh my god what do babies need?!"

"Mmmama?" Anthony said uncertainly. His face wavered into being a little scared. His lip quivered and his eyes teared up. "Mama?" he squeaked.

"No shouting!" Mami shouted.

"You're shouting!" Kyoko shouted.

Anthony started to cry.

They all panicked even more. Oktavia's mind flailed around trying to think of what she had seen other people do with babies. She brought him close to her chest, near her right shoulder. He buried his face in her neck and whimpered.

"No... don't cry," she said, struggling to stay quiet and keep the stress out of her voice. "It's okay, Anthony. It's... okay. I'm sorry for scaring you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't cry."

He kept whimpering. Oktavia tried rocking. He settled down some and stayed nestled in her neck.

Oktavia looked back to Kyoko and Mami and panic-whispered, "What do we do?!"

They all looked at each other in desperation for a bit. Then Kyoko perked up.

"Madoka's mom and dad will know what to do!" she said.

Mami turned to her and hissed, "It's two in the morning!"

"Do we have any other options?" Kyoko asked.

Mami pursed her lips and turned to Oktavia. Oktavia kept rocking and considered. After a minute, she whispered, "I really don't see any other option. What if we do something wrong before they get up?"

Mami put her head in her hands, bent over, and heaved a deep breath as she tried to calm herself. Then she stood upright, not any calmer, and said, "Let's get going."

Kyoko sighed and leapt up fire escapes in preparation to hop rooftops. Oktavia hissed, "No!"

"What?" Kyoko asked.

"What if I drop him off a rooftop?!" she asked, frightened.

Kyoko blinked and stared. "Oh."

"I guess... I guess we take the trains," Mami said warily.

Kyoko dropped to the pavement with a sigh. They started walking toward the nearest stop. A few blocks in, Oktavia stopped in her tracks and went still. Mami and Kyoko turned back.

"He... he stopped moving," Oktavia whispered in worry. "What's wrong with him? Is he unconscious? Is he okay?!"

Mami walked around her and peered over her shoulder. "I think he's just asleep. I think."

"Okay. Okay."

Fifteen minutes later, a janitor getting off graveyard shift stared at the tableau of three young women sitting together on the train, one holding a sleeping baby, all of them looking terrified. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to know what was going on with them.

"This is a disaster," one of them suddenly blurted.

He turned to face away and decided that no, he didn't want to know.

#gift story #gift #my writing #this AU is so interesting #I'm a sucker for kidfic and family fic #it's been awhile since I managed to write not-angst #it's been awhile since I wrote period #oops #sorry #Domestic Witches AU

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alovelyburn · 2 years

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Rambles about the Golden Age Part 13

I spent the past week or so distracted by Discord. Alas and Alack.

Rambles about the Golden Age Part 13

All right, I think I mostly talked about the Guts/Casca relationship last time, at least as far as my understanding of what drew them together and how the relationship works, so I don’t think I have a TON to say about them this time around? But let’s see.

I do find it a little annoying that this point was retconned. Because I mean, she could touch him because she’s a woman and his assailant was a man, you know? It’s not like he just found her inoffensive for no reason. That said, I’m just attributing it to the romantic haze he’s currently in because that makes some sense given how his head works. Moving on!

I love how Godo shows up and just puts all the things into place with Guts - not even just this time. There’s a commonality there because they’re both people who were sort of drafted into a specific role by the circumstances of their birth and/or upbringing - Godo doesn’t choose to become a blacksmith he just becomes that because it’s what he’s trained to be, but like Guts and his sword, he ultimately finds fulfillment there despite it’s having been chosen for him.

I actually quite miss him, I wish he hadn’t died!

That said, as nice as all this is - and as much as I find it notable that Griffith is the biggest presence in his mind (even moreso than Gambino) - his thoughts with regards to his own dream and how it relates or doesn’t relate to the Promrose speech does remind me of how much he misunderstood that speech and how it applied to him. Because it seems like what he got out of the speech is that Griffith is looking for someone who has a big picture dream like his, but if you look back to his actual speech it’s evident that what Griffith actually means is someone who has a thing they’re devoted to doing. He literally even mentions the idea of a person whose dream relates to having an incredibly intense relationship with a specific weapon:

The speech itself seemed (to me anyway) to be part showboating for Charlotte and part Griffith telling himself stories in addition to the part that’s true. But even putting that aside, even if if we assume it was 100% accurate and true to the way Griffith thinks and navigates his relationships, it still doesn’t mean he’s only interested in people who want to rule kingdoms or anything like that.

I’m also fascinated by his saying he’ll never stay/entrust himself to someone else’s dream again yadda yadda because when he actually ends up hanging out with the Hawks... it doesn’t take a lot to reverse that..

This is interesting because he seems so clear--headed and sure... and I do think that’s much of why many people think that’s what he really wanted. Which it was... in that moment. But it’s really another case of Berserk flexing its “characters can be wrong” muscle, because of course he eventually realizes he was prioritizing the wrong things and thus he ends up regretting having left to begin with. But that makes sense too because he’s trying to emulate Griffith, and Griffith routinely prioritizes the wrong thing, too.

Oh yes one more thing about Guts and Casca’s relationship, or rather its effect on Casca for the moment:

I understand why she’s distraught when Guts says he’s just leaving again and relieved when he invites her along. After years of pining after someone who really didn’t.... I’m not going to say he didn’t care about her because he obviously did but he didn’t care about her the way she wanted him to. He didn’t consider her necessary to him even if he recognized her value to the Hawks - which is to say Commander Griffith needed her more than Griffith the man did, and despite her claims to the contrary it’s Griffith the man that she wanted to see and desire her.

So I get it, but I do think it’s straight up bizarre how easily she just decides to leave everyone she’s known and the only life she’s had behind without much of a second thought to it. Not to mention leaving Griffith right after she pulls him out of a dungeon where he’s been tortured for a year. It’s...

Okay like I do understand that this stems from her comment at the end of the previous volume - her acceptance that she is going to change even though it frightened her to do so. I get that. I don’t mind that she decided to go with him if she wants to be with him. But I do mind that she didn’t seem to care about what she was leaving behind.

That said, I do think you could chalk that up to the sort of bubble atmosphere happening here - like her belief that she could let go of Griffith and Guts’ saying that she could touch him just because instead of because she’s female, or that he’s still going to leave. It’s all the sort of soft romanticized fantasies they share in this moment before it all falls apart. And I don’t just mean in the Eclipse, because that shit is out the window the second they leave that clearing, really.

Also I do like the poetry of showing us the first Apostle we ever met, and also showing that the world is changing to accommodate Femto’s impending arrival right after the man Griffith loves gets together with someone else and says he’s definitely still leaving. And yeah I know it actually happened earlier, but the way it’s placed has some significance otherwise it would have been shown when it happened, you know?

Really I should have just appended that shit to the last post because now we’re doing the big Griffith monologue and that’s a bit of a meh intro to it but whatever. AHEM.

So I said a while back that I feel like Griffith’s dream began as something of a childish thing right - it’s one of those nigh impossible dreams like becoming a princess that a lot of children have but eventually life breaks it down and they get this reality check and they move on. The “problem” with Griffith is that, because he is who he is, he decided he would actually go forth and achieve the impossible. It’s just his nature. But he started that journey as a child, and without a full understanding of what he was doing or what it meant. He’s like a kid playing with toy soldiers - he may know that people die but he doesn’t really “get” it until later. So when he finally started to understand the real blood cost of that dream, it was too late to back out.

He’s been kind of walled up ever since then really, emotionally distant to let himself do what he has to do, dedicated to something that’s slowly burning him down. You could call him an old soul at this point, BUT...

Even all these years after, after all that loss, when he thinks of himself - the internal image he has of himself - the image he sees is almost always the back alley boy with wild hair and plain clothes.

I think the most real part of him - the part that’s kind of cheeky and playful and idealistic, greedy but not malevolent. The part of him that remains emotionally vulnerable. ...the part that throws water buckets around and makes bugged out faces when Guts smacks him on the back, or offers to lend him porn. The rest of him - the manipulations, assassinations, the calculating general, the fancy clothes, etc, that’s all stuff that he does because he has to and a lot of it isn’t natural to his personality which is why (as Casca said directly) he has to shore himself up to do it - “he has to make himself strong” and all that. And because it’s unnatural to him, because he has to “make” himself able to do it... well that’s what she means when she says he suffers more than anyone. Because so much of his truest self gets eaten and blocked off and replaced with someone he obviously doesn’t even like.

Even so, when he’s alone with someone he truly can be himself with - which was only ever Guts really (as seen by the examples really) - his child-like side comes out. And that’s a big part of the reason he needed Guts so much;

Now, I said Griffith was a kid when he began, but even during the bulk of the Golden Age arc, Griffith’s only 19 or 20ish years old (depending on how long you want to say the post-recruitment, pre-snow duel part of the arc took). Of course that means a different thing in the kind of society/time period Berserk is portraying... but it doesn’t change the fact that he is still developing both physically and mentally. It’s not shocking that he would eventually run into something that would upend his priorities... especially priorities he had such a tenuous grasp on anyway. That’s pretty normal.

Speaking of which.

Again, Griffith’s very young. And he’s never loved anyone before. That experience, the first time you love someone, is always overwhelming and intense - it’s pure and unrestrained by experience or sadness. You haven’t yet learned how to love and lose with relative grace.

Complicating the issue for Griffith specifically is his extreme emotional isolation and tendency to suppress his needs, which makes Guts the only outlet he has - the only person he doesn’t have to front with. His best soldier, sure, but also his best (and only) friend, the person he most trusts, the person he has fallen in love with, and the person he would betray his own constructed value system (dream > all) for, because ultimately Guts satisfies Griffith’s actual needs rather than the ones he tells himself (and the world) that he has.

Losing him must have felt something like dying, especially because it seemed to be a direct rejection of all the things he’d been hiding from the world - the things that made him afraid of being “seen.”

It also meant being shoved back into the box where he kept his heart before he met Guts.

The Deluxe version changes that leftmost line again, this time to:

“I know how to cultivate the good will into trust or fellowship and the animosity into awe or possibly dread.”

And this is important because if you put it in the context of his behavior with, say, Foss it reveals that when he does that thing - the thing where he stares at someone and they feel their blood grow cold and are immediately terrified of him... that’s a thing he’s consciously doing. It’s not just that he is inherently a terrifying person, he is cultivating the animosity into awe or dread” for a purpose. And in the case of Foss the purpose was to frighten Foss into submission so he and Guts wouldn’t have to kill him. As evidenced by the fact that Foss is still alive and kicking.

Which reminds me, I seem to recall a time when someone said this is evidence of his arrogance because he thinks he’s special, but the thing is... that’s not arrogance. He is special. Not just because he’s the human that will one day become Femto but because he’s unreasonably brilliant, beautiful, charismatic and skilled in just about anything he’s ever tried. Is it arrogance to acknowledge that? I don’t think so, it’s really just an observation, and he has to know and see that in order to achieve what he’s trying to achieve.

I’d love to know how anyone reads this and says to themselves, Yes Griffith only saw Guts as a tool. He’s literally saying that the castle he’s chased his whole life loses its appeal in comparison to Guts. It’s always weird to see how people try to squirm out of this. “Guts outshines his dream because he needs Guts to achieve his dream.” Buh what?

Anyway, I’ve said a bunch of times that I don’t really get people who don’t think Griffith is in love with him... because I do kind of think that’s baffling. But it doesn’t bother me - hell, maybe I’m even the wrong one, I can acknowledge that. What I do find annoying and infeasible as an interpretation is the whole “sociopath who only had regard for others as tools toward achieving his dream” thing. I don’t think I’ll ever understand the appeal or even the rationale.

That said, a lot of it seems to come from thinking NeoGriffith and Griffith are the same “person,” which is like... NeoGriffith (and Femto) are aspects of Griffith’s personality isolated from the rest of him and shot through with the essence of “hell.” The fact that NeoGriffith prioritizes his dream over all things is because NeoGriffith is what Griffith himself always tried to portray and become - a largely emotionless ambition machine who isn’t held back by insecurities, regrets, fear or love. But the reason he needed to be freed from those things to begin with is because those things were so overwhelming to him that he lost his grip on them and they took him over and then crashed him into the rocks.

The design of the unforgiven strongly resembles the demon fetus which makes sense since said fetus was originally... not a fetus. I imagine it was originally just a minidemon/unforgiven before Miura got the idea to make it a corrupted baby.

I also think it’s interesting that the supernatural/demonic creatures already recognize and bow to Griffith when he is, for the moment, still only human. The world opens to make room for him, and everything changes, even the shadows - something that gets mentioned again after Griffith is reincarnated into the world.

Nothing to add to this really, I just love Femto’s title.

Guts is so often silent - in a lot of ways - from the outside - he’s as unreadable as Griffith, it’s just that we’re in his head all the time so he’s less confusing to us. Anyway, I do think he’s being silent because obviously he intends to leave. But I also think his expression reflects his ambivalence - the reluctance to leave the people who really are his home. Something he isn’t saying aloud because that’s how he is.

Judeau’s stares kind of remind me of the way Griffith later watches them. Same reason, really. Same reason, different target.

Like, I get that this is supposed to be a sweet moment but whenever Guts gets big man overprotective of Casca I just think about how the original reasons she fell in love with Griffith was because he empowered her and set her free, whereas Guts is always kind of treating her like a little lady he has to defend.

And don’t get me wrong, I understand the difference from the guys - Griffith isn’t interested in Casca that way, so he’s a lot more like his normal self with her - the Do As You Will self. The person he is interested in is Guts and he’s pretty irrationally protective of him (although he still respects his abilities enough to put him on the frontline). Whereas Guts is being like BF protects GF with her. That part makes sense. What makes less sense is why that’s appealing to her. Which, I mean, is really just because she’s become a love interest at this point but meh.

So, this is one of the big moments when Guts starts to understand this slippery thing that is Griffith and his feelings. It’s kind of a step forward a step back with him, and sometimes two steps forward and one back and sometimes one step forward and two back. Like you had the “Do I need a reason?” moment, which was two steps forward and then Promrose, which put him back at the starting line. Then you have the Hawks saying Griffith self-destructed over Guts, and Casca saying the same thing - three steps forward. Here we have another one. I think he has one more before the Eclipse which then has a scene in it that kind of sends him backwards again but we’ll get to that.

For the moment though, here Guts is on that path, go Guts. His impression of Griffith - rather the impression he’s settled into post-Promrose, which is extremely influenced by his Gambino issues and general feelings of inferiority and low self-worth, intercut with those moments when Griffith revealed his insecurities and self-doubt, as well as his capacity for caring and selflessness - why would he not risk his life for Guts? Is he terrible because he orchestrated the deaths of people who were actively trying to kill him?

But more than that, he’s thinking about the specific moments when Griffith reveals himself to him, to Guts himself - punctuated by Casca’s declaration that Griffith can’t function properly without him which does, I think, imply that Guts is starting to realize that he, specifically, is someone Griffith truly does care about personally. But if that’s the case, then what has he done?

Gah, okay let’s talk about this for a second.

It’s stupid rofl. That said, I didn’t really take it as Casca’s nonvirgin status being immediately evident on her or anything like that. Rather, I think it’s a result of her changed focus. When she was living for Griffith, she was trying to be a perfect soldier - because she wanted to be his sword (in lieu of being his lover). Griffith had no romantic interest in her, but he saw her utility as a soldier and respected her abilities as a commander and so she focused on those things. At that time she even expressed resentment at having been born a woman, which makes sense considering how much abuse she took for it. However when she switches her focus to Guts, it changes her presentation because she’s no longer trying to put herself into the mold of a soldier and is allowing herself to be a woman with needs and a lover and a potential future that doesn’t involve conquering armies, and so her presentation changes.

So that’s really what I think is meant to be going on, that said it does come off very oddly and ultimately I think the way her character changes depending on who she wants to be romantic with the most is kind of annoying. Even if you were to say that she can let go of her need to put herself into a specific mold because she lets go of Griffith, it isn’t something that happens overnight. So... much like her willingness to leave the Hawks and Griffith behind without a second thought despite having dedicated her life to them until this moment, it ends up leaving the impression that she just defines her entire personality by the D, which I mean, is how she is written but I don’t have to like it.

Which kind of leads me to this:

The way Casca’s determination, her decision to focus on her feelings for Guts over her feelings for Griffith, starts to crumble the second Griffith’s shadow enters the room. Because as soon as she realizes that Griffith may not be able to achieve his goal through Charlotte, she immediately starts wondering if maybe she and Griffith have a chance after all -- and then she grabs onto Guts to break the feeling up... which doesn’t work but also it’s just more of how Guts and Casca kind of .... I don’t want to say use each other because I do think they have genuine feelings for each other but I guess take refuge in each other when their feelings about Griffith start to mess them up.

AND GUTS KNOWS SHE’S DOING IT?

He knows it, and he lets her do it? He even initiates it. Which actually may have been a bad idea since later on she ends up crossing a line with him arguably because she’s so comfortable using him to numb her Griffith angst.

Also I genuinely wonder/kind of suspect that he said this specifically to jar Casca off her tumble back into Griffithville.

Which doesn’t work. The thing is, I don’t disagree with her logic about why bringing Charlotte on the run would be a terrible idea. But the decision isn’t coming from that logic - that’s why she looks shifty and has those sweat beads. It’s why she can’t look at Charlotte when she’s giving her reasoning. She’s right, but the decision doesn’t come from the logic she’s giving, the logic is thought up to justify the fact that she doesn’t want Griffith’s girlfriend with them. And ultimately the fact that she understands Charlotte’s feelings for Griffith is the reason she relents.

And there’s the line-cross. I just think... its a human moment for her but it’s also genuinely a dick move to complain to Guts about your feelings for Griffith. And it does seem to be a step too far, because that’s when he goes from quietly accepting and even encouraging her distract herself from all that to shutting her down and pulling away.

A truth that persists far beyond the Golden Age - he’s still struggling with Griffith vs. Casca to this day.

During the rescue mission there’s kind of obviously more emphasis on Casca’s romantic angst over Guts vs Griffith but the rest of the damn series is about Guts’ issues with Griffith so, you know, wait for it. For the moment, he’s just like “You’re obsessing over Griffith but I can’t complain because I am also doing that.”

A sidenote: I lvoe Charlotte and I think it’s sweet how devoted she is to Griffith - the point where the promise of being with him can give her the strength to do dangerous things she never would have done otherwise. Even after he turns out to be horribly maimed she still loves and tries to protect him from the King. She’s a badass.

Nothing to say here, but Miura sure knew how to twist that knife huh?

And then in the next minute he reminds me that half the reason Griffith has the issues he has and does the things he does is because the Hawks... I mean I talked about this last time I think and I’ve got more ranting to do when Griffith is back with the team, but I legit can’t shake the feeling that he’s barely human to them. Not in a way where like, they look down on him as subhuman but in a way where they see him as other than human. For most of the golden age that’s a “positive” thing - they think he’s superhuman. But because they already don’t see him as “normal” but rather as an other and a symbol, that switches very quickly to treating him like a doll or something once he loses his power.

Anyway that’s a bit of a tangent but ultimately while I don’t doubt they adored him they also really didn’t think about his humanity or needs.

A while back Miura said in some interview that he ended up reusing the same apostles because coming up with new designs all the time was kind of a lot. It is, to me, one of the best outcomes that taking the easy route has ever had, because it turned the apostles into characters instead of monsters. And that ends up laying the groundwork for a lot of what’s to come... in really interesting ways.

Because on one hand if you see them consistently and they become “people” to you then it’s interesting to kind of follow their lives right? The way some of the end up in the reborn band of the hawk protecting humanity and all that. It brings them depth and gives some weight to what Neo!Griffith is doing with Falconia.

At the same time, seeing the same apostles who slaughtered the first band and ate Guts’ hand off and assaulted Casca running around as knights in service of the realm is kind of... chilling, and helps the feeling of moral ambiguity around Griffith in his reborn form.

And last thing before I go....

The Gaiseric story.

I think at this point most people know the main theory is that Gaiseric became the Skull Knight (and the later mentioned Sage in the Tower became Void). I’m not going to say it’s definitive, I mean hell maybe Gaiseric is Void and the Sage is Skull Knight who knows (I don’t think so rofl) but it’s interesting how Miura draws a comparison between Gaiseric and Griffith when Gaiseric is presumably not the Godhand one.

I mean I don’t think these parallels need to be exact - if they are it becomes a little cheesy, but it’s interesting.

Which brings me to this thing, the story of Midland Kingdom’s fall, which is sort of obviously a result of the ascension of a Godhand who sacrificed the Kingdom to rise. Probably Void.

The fact that the five is corrected down to four angels/Godhand members indicates to me that Void was probably the final member of the previous Godhand cycle - the Femto so to speak. So that always makes me wonder... because Miura had said that what the Godhand wants is tied to Void and because the time of the Midland Kingdom is dated back to roughly 1000 years ago (the amount of time between Godhand flesh incarnations)... does that imply that Void was the last one incarnated?

This is kind of the edge of a larger series of thoughts around the Godhand and the cycles and ages of humanity but I guess what I’m wondering is....

do we have a situation where the fifth member of a Godhand set becomes incarnated and then sets humanity on the path it’s meant to follow for 1,000 years before returning to the noncorporeal realm as the senior member of the next cycle?

BECAUSE I FEEL LIKE THAT MIGHT BE THE CASE and if so it may not be a coincidence that Void and Femto are the ones with a lingering sacrifice in the world ala Skull Knight and Guts... and it would explain why Skull Knight targeted Guts as someone who could and would survive the Eclipse.

And that brings us to the end of this chapter. Next time.... Griffith’s return.

#berserk #berserk meta #rambles about berserk

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mrdarcysdadbod · 2 years

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Anyway rewatching LBD as an adult let me articulate some of the reasons I actually don't like it that much and think it does a disservice to the character of Lizzie specifically, and it has a lot to do with the medium and the framing device of "vlog made as a grad school thesis project and posted on the internet" and YES I know I'm overthinking this but I used Emma Approved in MY undergrad thesis project so I'm allowed to overthink it.

Anyway the issue is that, fundamentally, Austen in general and Pride and Prejudice in particular are very occupied with public vs private spheres. Pride and Prejudice does a LOT of ruminating on the differences in people's public and private behavior, what kind of behavior is appropriate or acceptable in public, the exclusivity of increasingly private spheres, confidence and intimacy, I could go on! And I think that adapting P+P as a vlog, publicly posted, is an interesting choice, and one that could have been carried off well if it was done in a METICULOUSLY thoughtful way, but it just... Wasn't.

Which brings me to the character of Lizzie. Lizzie in the book is HIGHLY concerned with propriety and appropriate public behavior. It's why her family is so embarrassing for her, and part of why she dislikes Darcy so much- he's not observing appropriate niceties for a social occasion. He's having a private conversation- "not handsome enough to tempt me"- in a public place. She's actually really private as a person, and she keeps a lot of secrets and doesn't really share with people aside from Charlotte and Jane (and sometimes not even them!)

Which makes some of the decisions made, in universe, by Diaries' Lizzie... Bizarre, at best. From a meta perspective, yeah, we have to get the whole story, but from an in-universe perspective, some of these conversations are absolutely not things that should be filmed, much less posted publicly for strangers to watch. And the weird part is that they call attention to this, with the repeated plot thread of keeping the videos secret from one person or another, and Lizzie being like "haha wouldn't want them to see this!" Then why the hell would you film it, edit it in, and post it?? Publicly? On the internet???

And like, that's without getting into the fact that this is supposed to be a thesis project for grad school! I literally cannot imagine a professor watching these deeply private conversations, often filmed without the participants' consent or knowledge (the running... Joke? of Bing thinking they're making video letters for Charlotte) and thinking this is acceptable OR appropriate, much less giving her academic credit. And, like, MAYBE if they were livestreamed, but they're not! They're edited. Lizzie edits them herself for most of the series, and that's- like, fuck, I mean, just thinking about some of the things she leaves in, on purpose? Lydia finding out about the sex tape? Like I know it was supposed to be to "prove" Lydia didn't do it on purpose but it would be just as easy to cut the part where she assumed Lydia DID consent and just be like "oh she must not have known" and not expose a humiliating and traumatizing moment to her alleged thousands (?) of viewers, who do not know them and are only watching this for entertainment. Like, sure Lizzie "learns her lesson" or whatever, but I feel like someone getting a GRADUATE DEGREE in mass media communications or whatever should be a little more sensitive to privacy. (Which, as a viewer who's thinking about this, makes ME hyper aware of the implied voyeurism of the whole affair and just makes me wanna turn it off and apologize lmao)

Anyway all this to say I think it's still interesting and it does some things that are really cool (I think Charlotte and her storyline w Mr. Collins really are the best element they changed and updated) but I just think it was biting off more than it wanted to properly chew in terms of the meta-narrative. It could've been a really interesting meditation on privacy in the internet age, but it wasn't interested in doing that, so it ends up just being... Fine, on its own, and deeply uncomfortable if you put any further thought in.

#now the real shade is in the tags: i also think the actress for lizzie was by far the weakest actress on the show #also the (?) re thousands of viewers is like... in universe who the hell would watch this lmfao.#like we the Actual Viewers are invested bc it is Pride And Prejudice and we know there's a story!#but lbd lizzie just isn't. interesting. or charismatic. like i cannot imagine people being invested in these in universe.#but i guess people are into weirder and stupider shit irl so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯#lizzie bennet diaries #mr darcys charming long letters

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slashbitch2 · 3 years

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it's just like seeing her for the first time, again

just some pure self indulgent fluff

Agatha had been your closest friend since you were old enough to understand the concept of friendship. You were inseparable. There were no secrets between you. Every milestone you reached, you reached together; the first successful hex, the first time you ventured into unfamiliar land, even your birthdays were separated only by a couple days.

When you were struggling with your studies, Agatha would spend all night by your side explaining the subject in greater details, and vice versa for the few times she fell behind. So it came as no surprise that you were both top of the class, slightly isolated from your fellow witches. This segregation never bothered you, however, as you were more than happy spending all your free time with Agatha.

Take today, for example: the weather was perfect and you had nothing better to do than laze around for the entire day. The ground was dry enough to lie down on without worrying about ruining your clothes, and the midday humidity was accompanied by a light breeze. Perfection. Especially with Agatha lying beside you, who would occasionally shuffle around or sigh. She wasn't great at relaxing, her mind too restless to take a break.

"Did you hear about Charlotte?" She asks suddenly, turning to look at you.

You sigh. So much for peace and quiet. "No. What did she do?"

"Mother caught her sneaking away to the village last night. Gave her such a fright that she confessed everything."

"Confessed?" You repeat the word frowning. While outings to the village were few and far in between, going without permission was hardly the end of the world. It was one of the lesser rules: advice rather than a punishable offence.

Agatha grins, finding a cruel sense of amusement in the girl's mistake. "She was courting a boy in secret. Snuck away to meet him every night."

Unlike your friend, you understand the girl's craving for romance, sympathise slightly with her suffering. "Was his memory wiped?"

Agatha nods. "And she was devastated about it. Even begged to have her own memories removed too."

"That must be awful." You murmur. "To experience such loss."

Hearing movement to your side, you turn to see Agatha propped up on her elbow, fixing you with a puzzled look. "What's gotten into you?"

"I guess..." You stare up at the sky, unable to cope with her intensely perceptive glare. "I can understand why she would pursue a relationship. Why she'd want a life separate from the Coven."

"So you want an escape?" Despite the considerate words, Agatha sounds surprisingly offended.

"No!" You quickly correct yourself, unwilling to upset your friend. "I mean to be in love. Experience intimacy and all of that..." You shrug it off, embarrassed by the confession, but know Agatha is the type of person to file the information away for later. She never forgets anything.

"Oh."

Common sense tells you to stay silent, but curiosity wins, prompting you to ask in a low voice. "Have you ever-" You swallow, blushing lightly at the question. "kissed anyone?"

"No." She scoffs. "I would've told you if I had."

"Right." You wring your hands together, a strange tension lingering from your inquiry. Instead of focusing on the bizarre silence, you opt to direct your attention to the branches of the tree above, content watching the leaves flutter in the wind.

"Do you want to?" Her question does nothing to ease the tension. You can still sense her eyes on you, and for some reason, it causes you to flush.

"Yes..."

“Alright.” Agatha sits up, looking down at you expectantly. “Close your eyes then.”

Oh. She'd been offering rather than inquiring. You'd misunderstood what she'd asked, yet looking up at her, it becomes impossible to say no. You like to think it's because the opportunity is too good to pass on. But in reality, you're convinced by the soft appearance to her eyes, the way they scan your face with uncharacteristic uncertainty. And the way her lips are parted slightly, tongue resting between her teeth as she waits for you. It's Agatha's whole demeanour that lures you in. Like you were seeing her in an entirely new light.

You sit up, shuffling back to rest against the trunk of a tree. She lurches forward too fast for you to comprehend, then hesitates, leaving you holding your breath. One hand raises to brush a strand of hair out of your face and you exhale. She's sitting close enough for you to see every detail on her face. From the almost imperceptible scar along the bridge of her nose, to the many shades of blue filling her eyes. She's perfect.

The first caress of Agatha's lips is tentative, neither sure what to do, though it feels right nonetheless. Barely a second apart and you're already craving more, returning with confidence. She shifts her hand to hold the side of your neck.

“Tilt your head a little.” She purrs against your lips.

You oblige her wish and lean to the left, your lips subconsciously opening. In response, her tongue slips into your mouth and you gasp, eyes snapping open. Although upon catching sight of Agatha, who was pouring her heart and soul into the kiss, you relax. You take the time to savour the moment, to savour her. She tastes uniquely like herself, otherwise indescribable.

You feel a pleasant burning in your stomach when she moans softly, which endures even as you break away. Neither of you say anything, preferring to stare at the other in an appreciative silence. Her thumb begins gently tracing circles along your cheek. You soften at the touch, falling further forward so there was as little distance between your bodies as possible.

Agatha was your closest friend, and so much more.

#agatha harkness x reader #agnes x reader #agatha harkness

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