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fatedrp · 2 years

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CREATURE LORE

VAMPIRES

Formerly human, vampires are beings with sharp fangs who sustain their elongated lives on the blood of mortals. In order to be transformed, a person must be bitten by a vampire and completely drained of life. If a person who has been drained by a vampire has not properly been put to rest with a wooden stake through the heart, burned, or beheaded, they will rise again within twenty-four hours and join the ranks of the undead. Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not immortal, but are granted an extended life and extended youth. Once bitten, the person will cease to age, though their physical appearance will change over time.

There are three stages of a vampire's life, each with its own unique strengths and shortcomings.

The first stage begins once a human is transformed into a vampire and lasts for roughly 30 years. Freshly turned vampires appear twitchy, with erratic movements and overly acute senses. Their new abilities take an adjustment period, and the younger generations often rely on their sires and other more seasoned vampires to help them learn steadiness in this new life. New vampires have stone hard skin that is cold to the touch, are unable to retract their fangs, and though they require the least amount of blood to survive their thirst is the strongest.

The middle stage of the life of a vampire is the one most fall into, and the type least likely to be indistinguishable from “normal” society. After about 30 years (though it could take much longer for more “savage and untrained” vampires) the body begins to settle, the senses finally something natural and the skin “learning to live” again with a new life source. Still somewhat cold to the touch, middle aged vampires feel and appear more like their human counterparts, able to retract their teeth and control their thirst more readily. These vampires require a modest amount of blood to survive, though as they age they will begin to notice their thirst growing, reaching a climax just before they enter the final stages of their lives.

Vampires who have reached beyond the 400 year mark begin to slow down, physically at least. They find they require much more blood to survive, and their once flawless features begin to betray them. Their movements become sluggish, their senses dull, but their mind becomes more keen than ever. Elder vampires develop a strong sense of preservation layer in their lives, feeling the end coming closer and knowing they must protect themselves. These vampires are known to be defensive and viciously territorial.

As a whole, most vampires are more secretive and capable of living under the radar, and the ones who aren’t are often taken under the care of those more seasoned. Because of this, the registries set in place for vampires are often inaccurate and not up to date. Much like werewolves, the ways in which vampires choose to live are varied; both solitary and cooperative modes of existence have been recorded. Covens have formed over time, which tend to be very insular and unwilling to interact with the wizarding world. There is some sense of superiority here, given many vampires have lived several lifetimes and seen the tides of the magical world come and go. Elder vampires are more likely to surround themselves with covens, needing the protection of the younger generations and easing their innate sense of paranoia. However, freshly turned vampires tend to prefer to stick to the one student-one teacher group, needing specialized attention in order to learn to better control their thirst and senses. Some covens have begun to cater to these younger vampires, specifically those who have aligned with the Dark Lord, as they have been manipulated to believe they are making a difference for the younger generation. In reality the Dark Lord sees them as the perfect savage foot soldiers and wishes to grow their numbers.

FACTS

The typical lifespan of a vampire is between 500 and 600 years.

Vampires have enhanced senses and speed, and the most powerful is their sense of hearing. A vampire's ears are capable of picking up the most subtle of sounds, even from great distances.

Their strength is comparable to any normal mortal their size, though heightened agility often helps in any hand-to-hand situation.

Vampires have a bite strength of 215 lbs per square inch, with powerful jaws and sharp fangs. Younger vampires are unable to retract their fangs, however as a vampire ages and they gain a better control of their thirst they gain the ability. Vampires no matter what age however will show their fangs when they have lost their mind to the thirst and must feed.

While vampires who were once magical retain the use of their wands and some special magical abilities, those who once had abilities allowing for physical transformation will lose them due to the new nature of their new bodies. This means that Animagi and Metamorphmagi will no longer be able to alter their shape.

For the most part, a vampire's magic will remain the same, though they are unable to ingest potions like normal witch or wizard. A potion will often cause extreme sickness in a vampire, even death if it renders them incapable of feeding for too long.

Vampires can walk in sunlight, as it has no effect on them. The idea that it can harm them comes from the fact that many vampires only ever travel at night in order to avoid detection and registration.

Healing magic does not work very well on vampires but they heal at an accelerated rate on their own, as long as they are fed.

The Killing Curse is ineffective against these beings.

Vampires cannot consume human food or drink, and will reject it as their body is unable to process it. They are able to drink the blood of any animal, though only human blood can truly fill them.

For a vampire, drinking the blood of another magical creature causes extreme pain and sickness. Sometimes fooled by those of partial status, even the smallest bit of tainted blood can make a vampire ill to some extent. However the same is not true for those who ingest vampire blood. Something of a “party drug” these days, “Red Crystal” is the name given to dried, crystallized vampire blood that can be taken by wixen and tainted alike (excluding vampires). Crystal causes a sense of euphoria, heightened senses, and an increased desire to eat and drink things high in iron. The effects last about four hours, and the hangover often takes people out for a full day.

WEREWOLVES

A werewolf is a wixen or muggle who transforms into a wolf-like creature during the full moon. The cycle of the transformations last the day before, day of, and day after the full moon. During this time, the mind is lost to the beast, those transformed becoming uncontrollable and detached from their human mind. The only way to maintain control of one's self during the full moon is with the use of Wolfsbane Potion, though the werewolf may remain unpredictable and prone to more destructive tendencies than their normal selves would be. In order to be turned, a person must be bitten and/or scratched by a werewolf while in wolf form. If the wound is not sealed with a mixture of powdered silver and dittany, the person will never heal and will die of their injuries within days.

Many werewolves are naturally drawn to their own kind, and packs exist all over the world. In most cases, members of a pack make up the same “sire pool”, meaning they have all been turned by those connected to the oldest branches of the cursed line. Werewolves are able to easily identify those turned by the same sire, or “descendants” of that sire, which is why they group together in this way. Even in human form it is easy for a werewolf to sniff out those with the same sire pool, and can be willed to return to their original creator, especially during the cycle of the full moon.

Though there are packs all over the world, it isn’t always in a werewolf’s instinct to be drawn to their own kind as a normal wolf would be. Some live in solitude, hiding away from the judgment of the outside world. However, as life on the outskirts can be dangerous, others choose to stick to their own kind and protect one another.

In general, werewolves have been highly stigmatized in wizarding society. They are a feared and rejected species, labeled vicious and dangerous by most. Many magical governing bodies have strict werewolf registries, meant to keep track of these tainted individuals for the protection of the community as a whole. In the UK, Lyall Lupin was instrumental in the creation of the werewolf registry. These prejudices hold firm among society today, and with the crackdown of muggleborn registration, werewolves are being more scrutinized as well. There is a way around – packs that are willing to bend the knee to the Dark Lord and offer their loyalty may receive protection from the Ministry. Many have taken up this offer, bringing in groups of wolves such as the Greyback Pack. Some come in unison, looking for a way to last through the war and darkening future, while other packs have splintered, some turning to the Dark Lord and others feeling it’s best to protect themselves, as they always have.

FACTS

Wolfsbane Potion is expensive and very difficult to make, because of this many are left without.

While in creature form, a werewolf appears like an oversized wolf, though much larger, and stands on all four paws. Their fur is typically close to the color of their natural hair, and their general physical structures resemble their human forms; a stout/short person will be a smaller werewolf while a taller/larger person would be bigger.

Werewolves have heightened senses even when in their human form, but they are at their most powerful close to the full moon. Their sense of smell is incredibly strong even in human form, and werewolves can smell other wolves, as well as any creature blood inside another person. Werewolves can detect scent at a range up to 4 miles (6.4 km) while in wolf form and 1.5 miles (2.4 km) in human form.

Though they do not have enhanced strength while in human form, werewolves are known to be physically more capable than a typical human, as their constant transformation causes the body to become more lean and muscular.

While in their creature form, a werewolf is stronger and more agile than a natural wolf would be. A werewolf can typically run at speeds up to 40 miles per hour (64.3 km per hour) and has a resting bite force near 450 lbs. As werewolves often reflect the physical traits of their human selves, people who are stronger or faster in their human forms may also be so in their wolf forms.

Upon returning to their human form, a person will only recall what they have done while transformed if they have taken Wolfsbane appropriately.

Female werewolves cannot reproduce due to the monthly transformations their bodies undergo. Male werewolves do not pass on the werewolf gene, though their descendants can sometimes be more "animal-like" in their mannerisms around the full moon.

Transformations are extremely taxing on the body and mind. Many werewolves resort to the use of pain relieving and beautification potions in order to pass through their toughest days without notice.

VEELA

A veela is a human-like being that has the ability to appear as an enchanting and beautiful person. Their nature is one of seduction, and they are known for their innate ability to entrance and draw others in. Veela are also noted for their fiery temper and pyromantic abilities. Like wizarding kind, Veela have a slightly extended lifespan, though they physically age much more elegantly than normal magical folk and don’t look quite as old in their upper years. For a full blooded Veela, this human form is only an illusion. Their true form resembles a bird-like humanoid creature with a sharp beak and scaly wings that erupt from their shoulders. Those with partial Veela blood are not able to fully take this form, however upon times of extreme anger, or sometimes deliberately with training and control, the partial blood person may display some of the physical qualities of that true form, such as appearing more bird-like or appearing to grow wings made of flames.

The pyromaniac abilities of a full Veela are much stronger than those of partial blood, however many still retain total control of flame without the use of their wand or other magic. As the tainted blood thins, the ability to produce the flame dwindles, but the control often remains through many generations.

Because partial Veela are able to blend in so easily, they often go largely unnoticed by the wizarding government as long as they stay in line. Theoretically, however, they must register their tainted blood status. Overall, partial Veela are treated much like other creatures, as lessers, but there is also an added wariness that comes along with the infatuation caused by these creatures. They are considered “dirty” and “naughty” creatures, not capable of being part of polite society.

Full blooded Veela are mostly confined to designated land given to them by their country's Ministry. Like giants and dragons, they are heavily regulated, and meant to be kept out of the general magical population. In recent years many of these habitats have been breached by Death Eater aligned Ministry personnel and deals have been made. Many Veela are angry and tired of being kept under such tight lock and key. They have been promised more freedom if they fight alongside the Dark Lord, and many who are locked away send for or give up the names of their partial-blood offspring in hopes of gaining leverage from the outside. The Death Eaters track these people down and offer them much of the same, freedom from registration and persecution from the Ministry if they fight for the “right side”. Some don’t care to fight for their tainted relatives but see a chance for themselves, while others feel for their Veela creators and hope to help them too into a better life.

FACTS

Veela come from all countries and can have any skin tone or hair color, as well as be any gender.

Pyromantic abilities are innate in the nature of a Veela. They are able to create and control fire to varying extents depending on the purity of their blood, as well as level of training.

A Veela is known to have the ability to entrance those around them with a dance composed of movements that are deeply rooted in their instincts. While a full Veela has more control over this dance, those of lesser blood may only be able to tap into this ability on occasion or not at all.

While normal fire can burn a Veela or part Veela, the fire they produce with their own magic does not harm them.

GIANTS

These mountain dwelling creatures are noted for their extraordinary size, with some known to have grown as large as twenty feet tall. There are many different types of giants from many different tribes, some more human-looking, and others more beastly. In general, they are clannish creatures, living in tribes and family units. Giants are more intelligent than most of the wizarding world will give them credit for, and often are not the hulking, angry creatures that they are portrayed as. Most tribes can live peacefully amongst themselves and each other, given the proper space and resources. However, with the growing Muggle and wizarding population around the world, giants have been forced closer together and have limited food supplies causing more conflict to arise. For the most part, giants are largely controlled by various wizarding governments, herded and watched closely so that none of the fighting crosses over the lines of their established sanctuaries. They are able to communicate; however, they have limited patience for wizarding kind. There’s been little by way of compromise between the two groups, and giants are treated much like a burden on the world. Recently, some giants have joined the cause of Lord Voldemort, being offered new territories and protections if they help lay his claim to the wizarding world.

Those with partial giant blood are not unheard of, and are often easy to spot. Traits like size and strength are often inherited with the giant’s blood. Because of their inability to blend in, part-giants are treated poorly, and often unable to do things normal wizarding folk can, such as attending schools or applying for certain occupations. However, this isn’t always true, and some part-giants have risen through despite their blood status to be something more, while others have successfully played off and hidden what they truly were to get ahead.

FACTS

Giant tribes hail from mountainous regions all over the world and come in all shapes and sizes.

Known for their immense strength, even those with only partial giant blood have this trait.

Giants have extremely dense bones, and can weigh thousands of pounds depending on their size.

Those with partial giant blood are prone to changeable temperaments and often find it difficult to control their anger.

Though giants do not have any inherent magical abilities, they do have a resistance to magic, including spells and potions. More powerful spells are needed in order to affect them, as well as stronger potions and in greater volumes.

A giant, as well as a partial giant, takes more food and drink than a normal human would due to their larger size. Because of this, substances that would inebriate them would be needed in larger quantities to have the same effect as on a human.

GOBLINS

Small, humanoid magical creatures, goblins are known for their high intelligence and cunning natures. Though some may find their language and culture primitive, they are extremely sophisticated creatures who have found their place in wizarding society through their own will and hard-work. They are excellent metal-workers, and as such create much of the currency used in the magical world. Witches and wizards often see goblins as inferior, and think absently that their arrangements and "freedoms" are satisfying the small creatures. Truthfully, goblins are a crafty and proud people who manipulate the system to their advantage. Goblins control the Gringotts Wizarding Bank, and few know how deep their tiny pockets actually run.

Goblins are short, have long fingers and feet, and are often quite pale as they spend little time outdoors. These characteristics are sometimes passed on to partial-blood offspring, most notably the tiny stature. However goblins for various parts of the world appear quite differently from one another in facial structure and body structure, some much more lean and taller, others stout and round. In most cases, goblins have large pupils, allowing more light to enter their eyes. They are able to see more clearly in the dark, but have a greater sensitivity to light.

FACTS

Gobbledegook is the name of the language of the goblins.

Due to their small size some would assume goblins need to consume less than an average sized person, however this is false. As diligent workers, often with harty bodies, goblins often ingest the amount of calories a person of a much larger size would. Their healthy appetites are often very refined, and goblin cuisine is thought of as a delicacy in wixen society.

A goblin's unique magic has no need for wands, and they have a natural gift for charm-work as well as the ability to manipulate metals. This unique magic is something of a mystery still to many wixen, and only those very trusted few are allowed in on the secrets of this ancient and innate magic.

GHOSTS

These spirit-type creatures are the imprinted souls of once-living witches and wizards. There is still much mystery surrounding how and why some remain tied to the Earth after death, and many have dedicated their lives to this study. Some are able to move relatively freely, traveling from place to place by floating. Other ghosts, however, are tied to certain locations, some by spells and curses, and others by something within themselves that will not let go. It is possible for a ghost to pass on, though the circumstances which allow this seem to be different for each spirit. Some may complete their unfinished business, while others may simply grow more ready to let go. Overall, ghosts are treated with a degree of wariness but not completely rejected from society as they typically cannot do too much harm. They tend to be considered “creepy” more than threatening.

Ghosts are visible to witches and wizards, and also to Squibs and muggles with tainted blood. Some appear in normal human colors, though perhaps more pale than in life, while others may appear greyish or even green. They are able to pass through solid objects and create disturbances in water, fire, and air. Not all ghosts have the ability to make contact with these elements, and some can even be so lost in their own drifting they may not recognize the outside world around them. The temperature is known to fall when a ghost is near, and sometimes flames will turn blue. Ghosts are weightless, and are able to float around, even fly through the air by manipulating the elements around them.

FACTS

Not all ghosts are trapped in one location, though they are normally contained to the region of their death, some more tightly than others.

Ghosts appear as an imprint of their soul when they pass, and not their physical self. Sometimes the markings from their death are carried over, sometimes they are not. If the method of their death had a significant impact on their being before death or somehow was representative of their soul, they are more likely to bear these markings in their afterlife.

On occasions, ghosts who misbehave will be purposely tied to a location where they can’t do too much harm or someone well trained can look after them. In the most dire of situations a ghost can be bound in a mirror, something that is still thought to be irreversible to this day.

Some spells work on ghosts, but the true extent of this is still being tested every day. The best known ways of dealing with an unruly ghost are to use either a magical light or a Skurge Charm to repel them.

Only magical people can become ghosts.

There is currently no known way to destroy a ghost.

When a ghost is in a frightened or anxious state, they excrete ectoplasm, a substance that is used in many Dark Arts practices. This is often the main ingredient when attempting to curse a ghost and bind them to a certain place. It is frowned upon to collect ectoplasm, and generally people are taught to quickly wipe it away or otherwise dispose of it. The pain experienced during the production of ectoplasm is said to be one of the only real physical pains a ghost can feel.

Ghosts cannot make physical contact with the living world, but interact with it through manipulation of elements. They can affect air, fire, and water, allowing them to float a book just above their hands and turn the pages for example. They could pass through water by controlling the elements around them to move. Ghosts can however make contact with each other as well as other spirits, as their forms are made up of compatible spirit elements that can make contact with each other. A ghost has little control over this "spirit element" other than in this context.

Some ghosts who become erratic, fractured, and/or lost to their own minds through time may begin to transform into what is known as a poltergeist. These spirits lose all sense of their former selves, and often become much more of a problem than they are worth. In general, poltergeists aren’t given much of a second chance. If they act erratically or unpredictably and cause harm to another they will be hunted for capture, placed in a mirror, and tucked away for eternity.

PARTIAL BLOOD CREATURES

Some creatures have the ability to mate with humans, and as such partial-blood creatures sometimes occur. The amount of creature blood often determines the level of shared nature; those of half-blood have more shared characteristics with both parents, while one of only quarter-creature blood would be more "human". Traits, both magical and physical, are adopted by most partial-blood people, though some are less noticeable. Partial-breeds are frowned upon in society in general, and most do their best to keep their creature sides hidden. Veela, male werewolves, giants, hags, banshee, and goblins can all mate with humans. Vampires have the complete inability to produce offspring, and as such there are no partial vampire. Female werewolves cannot produce offspring, and male werewolves do not pass on their traits to their children but can have offspring.

#fatedrp #fated #creature lore #site buzz #jcink rp

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samwisethewitch · 4 years

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Cults? In my life? It’s more likely than you think.

In my last post, I talked about how the Law of Attraction and Christian prosperity gospel both use the same thought control techniques as cults. I’ve received several public and private replies to that post: some expressing contempt for “sheeple” who can be lead astray by cults, and others who say my post made them scared that they might be part of a cult without knowing it.

I want to address both of those types of replies in this post. I want to talk about what a cult really looks like, and how you can know if you’re dealing with one.

If you type the word “cult” into Google Images, it will bring up lots of photos of people with long hair, wearing all white, with their hands raised in an expression of ecstasy.

Most modern cults do not look anything like this.

Modern cultists look a lot like everyone else. One of the primary goals of most cults is recruitment, and it’s hard to get people to join your cause if they think you and your group are all Kool-Aid-drinking weirdos. The cults that last are the ones that manage to convince people that they’re just like everyone else — a little weird maybe, but certainly not dangerous.

In the book The Road to Jonestown: Jim Jones and Peoples Temple, author Jeff Guinn says, “In years to come, Jim Jones would frequently be compared to murderous demagogues such as Adolf Hitler and Charles Manson. These comparisons completely misinterpret, and historically misrepresent, the initial appeal of Jim Jones to members of Peoples Temple. Jones attracted followers by appealing to their better instincts.”

You might not know Jim Jones and the Peoples Temple by name, but you’ve probably heard their story. They’re the Kool-Aid drinkers I mentioned earlier. Jones and over 900 of his followers, including children, committed mass suicide by drinking Flavor Aid mixed with cyanide.

In a way, the cartoonish image of cults in popular media has helped real-life cults to stay under the radar and slip through people’s defenses.

In her book Recovering Agency: Lifting the Veil of Mormon Mind Control, Luna Lindsey says: “These groups use a legion of persuasive techniques in unison, techniques that strip away the personality to build up a new group pseudopersonality. New members know very little about the group’s purpose, and most expectations remain unrevealed. People become deeply involved, sacrificing vast amounts of time and money, and investing emotionally, spiritually, psychologically, and socially.”

Let’s address some more common myths about cults:

Myth #1: All cults are Satanic or occult in nature. This mostly comes from conservative Christians, who may believe that all non-Christian religions are inherently cultish in nature and are in league with the Devil. This is not the case — most non-Christians don’t even believe in the Devil, much less want to sign away their souls to him. Many cults use Christian theology to recruit members, and some of these groups (Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses, etc.) have become popular enough to be recognized as legitimate religions. Most cults have nothing to do with magic or the occult.

Myth #2: All cults are religious. This is also false. While some cults do use religion to recruit members or push an agenda, many cults have no religious or spiritual element. Political cults are those founded around a specific political ideology. Author and cult researcher Janja Lalich is a former member of an American political cult founded on the principles of Marxism. There are also “cults of personality” built around political figures and celebrities, such as Adolf Hitler, Chairman Mao, and Donald Trump. In these cases, the cult is built around hero worship of the leader — it doesn’t really matter what the leader believes or does.

Myth #3: All cults are small fringe groups. Cults can be any size. Some cults have only a handful of members — it’s even possible for parents to use thought control techniques on their children, essentially creating a cult that consists of a single family. There are some cults that have millions of members (see previous note about Mormons and Jehovah’s Witnesses).

Myth #4: All cults live on isolated compounds away from mainstream society. While it is true that all cults isolate their members from the outside world, very few modern cults use physical isolation. Many cults employ social isolation, which makes members feel separate from mainstream society. Some cults do this by encouraging their followers to be “In the world but not of the world,” or encouraging them to keep themselves “pure.”

Myth #5: Only stupid, gullible, and/or mentally ill people join cults. Actually, according to Luna Lindsey, the average cult member is of above-average intelligence. As cult expert Steven Hassan points out, “Cults intentionally recruit ‘valuable’ people—they go after those who are intelligent, caring, and motivated. Most cults do not want to be burdened by unintelligent people with serious emotional or physical problems.” The idea that only stupid or gullible people fall for thought control is very dangerous, because it reinforces the idea that “it could never happen to me.” This actually prevents intelligent people from thinking critically about the information they’re consuming and the groups they’re associating with, which makes them easier targets for cult recruitment.

So, now that we have a better idea of what a cult actually looks like, how do you know if you or someone you know is in one?

A good rule of thumb is to compare the group’s actions and teachings to Steven Hassan’s BITE Model. Steven Hassan is an expert on cult psychology, and most cult researchers stand by this model. From Hassan’s website, freedomofmind.com: “Based on research and theory by Robert Jay Lifton, Margaret Singer, Edgar Schein, Louis Jolyon West, and others who studied brainwashing in Maoist China as well as cognitive dissonance theory by Leon Festinger, Steven Hassan developed the BITE Model to describe the specific methods that cults use to recruit and maintain control over people. ‘BITE’ stands for Behavior, Information, Thought, and Emotional control.”

Behavior Control may include…

Telling you how to behave, and enforcing behavior with rewards and punishments. (Rewards may be nonphysical concepts like “salvation” or “enlightenment,” or social rewards like group acceptance or an elevated status within the group. Punishments may also be nonphysical, like “damnation,” or may be social punishments like judgement from peers or removal from the group.)

Dictating where and with whom you live. (This includes pressure to move closer to other group members, even if you will be living separately.)

Controlling or restricting your sexuality. (Includes enforcing chastity or abstinence and/or coercion into non-consensual sex acts.)

Controlling your clothing or hairstyle. (Even if no one explicitly tells you, you may feel subtle pressure to look like the rest of the group.)

Restricting leisure time and activities. (This includes both demanding participation in frequent group activities and telling you how you should spend your free time.)

Requiring you to seek permission for major decisions. (Again, even if you don’t “need” permission, you may feel pressure to make decisions that will be accepted by the group.)

And more.

Information Control may include…

Withholding or distorting information. (This may manifest as levels of initiation, with only the “inner circle” or upper initiates being taught certain information.)

Forbidding members from speaking with ex-members or other critics.

Discouraging members from trusting any source of information that isn’t approved by the group’s leadership.

Forbidding members from sharing certain details of the group’s beliefs or practice with outsiders.

Using propaganda. (This includes “feel good” media that exists only to enforce the group’s message.)

Using information gained in confession or private conversation against you.

Gaslighting to make members doubt their own memory. (“I never said that,” “You’re remembering that wrong,” “You’re confused,” etc.)

Requiring you to report your thoughts, feelings, and activities to group leaders or superiors.

Encouraging you to spy on other group members and report their “misconduct.”

And more.

Thought Control may include…

Black and White, Us vs. Them, or Good vs. Evil thinking.

Requiring you to change part of your identity or take on a new name. (This includes only using last names, as well as titles like “Brother,” “Sister,” and “Elder.”)

Using loaded languages and cliches to stop complex thought. (This is the difference between calling someone a “former member” and calling the same person an “apostate” or “covenant breaker.”)

Inducing hypnotic or trance states including prayer, meditation, singing hymns, etc.

Using thought-stopping techniques to prevent critical thinking. (“If you ever find yourself doubting, say a prayer to distract yourself!”)

Allowing only positive thoughts or speech.

Rejecting rational analysis and criticism both from members and from those outside the group.

And more.

Emotional Control may include…

Inducing irrational fears and phobias, especially in connection with leaving the group. (This includes fear of damnation, fear of losing personal value, fear of persecution, etc.)

Labeling some emotions as evil, worldly, sinful, low-vibrational, or wrong.

Teaching techniques to keep yourself from feeling certain emotions like anger or sadness.

Promoting feelings of guilt, shame, and unworthiness. (This is often done by holding group members to impossible standards, such as being spiritually “pure” or being 100% happy all the time.)

Showering members and new recruits with positive attention — this is called “love bombing.” (This can be anything from expensive gifts to sexual favors to simply being really nice to newcomers.)

Shunning members who disobey orders or disbelieve the group’s teachings.

Teaching members that there is no happiness, peace, comfort, etc. outside of the group.

And more.

If a group ticks most or all of the boxes in any one of these categories, you need to do some serious thinking about whether or not that group is good for your mental health. If a group is doing all four of these, you’re definitely dealing with a cult and need to get out as soon as possible.

These techniques can also be used by individual people in one-on-one relationships. A relationship or friendship where someone tries to control your behavior, thoughts, or emotions is not healthy and, again, you need to get out as soon as possible.

Obviously, not all of these things are inherently bad. Meditation and prayer can be helpful on their own, and being nice to new people is common courtesy. The problem is when these acts become part of a bigger pattern, which enforces someone else’s control over your life.

A group that tries to tell you how to think or who to be is bad for your mental health, your personal relationships, and your sense of self. When in doubt, do what you think is best for you — and always be suspicious of people or groups who refuse to be criticized.

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fandom-scatteredthoughtsonpaper · 3 years

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Dark Obey Me AU Outline, Breakdown, Game Mechanic + Specifics, + Some Other Stuff

{Previous post}

Kickoff and Quick Summarization:

Leviathan won a new preliminary horror game with VR aspects from a contest to test the game out before its actual release and invited Mammon and Yuki (MC) to play. This experimental immersion becomes too realistic when Yuki's latent powers takes the experience of the game to new levels when the entire House of Lamentation is sucked into the virtualization. Yuki, now alone and confused to the rules of this blended world of reality and simulation, has to venture through the house and recover the brothers from the game's influence. The game seems a little rigged the more Yuki advanced, so is someone actually pulling strings off screen or is paranoia seeping in?

Type of AU:

Mirror Universe, Interactive AU (you can help build up the world of this event)

Potential tags:

Horror, Psychological, Bloody, Dark, Angsty, Possible Sexual Assault, Death Is Allowed, Bodily Harm

Brief (and Liable to Change) Explanation of How the Game Will Work:

-After the House of Lamentation is shifted and adapted into the game's world, the seven demon brothers are also adapted to the elements of the psychological horror genre and placed as progressively harder bosses that MC has to get through to advance the game and undo the effects of what happened.

-The brothers that MC has converted back to normal will stay on their side and aid them in rescuing the other mentally manipulated boys, some even serving as necessary requirements to further progress. They can roam around the house and their rooms can serve as a temporary safety spots, but MC has to be with them to ward off the game's influence from trying to appeal to their cardinal desires based on their sin they govern and controlling them again.

-MC can try to appeal to any brother at any time, but if they don't meet requirements the struggle will be a lot harder and the emotional toll will be more effective on the chosen brother. If MC fails to convert the brother, not only does the next attempt become tougher, but MC takes damage deemed appropriate by the game based on the sin of the brother.

-The only exception to this rule is Mammon. Mammon is basically the tutorial. He's a mandatory scripted event to teach MC how the gameplay will be, and how they'll make it further in the game.

-Each brother is equivalent as a boss. The only way to progress to the next milestone is to release the grip the game has on the brothers' minds, but it's not as simple as breaking a curse like MC can canonically do with their powers. MC has to make a connection to the altered version of the demons, and to reach that connection they have to tackle each brother's insecurities and issues. Not like resolve them entirely with a heartfelt speech, and voila, they're okay again, but really reach into their hearts and remind them that they're not what the game has turned them into, that they're more than their sins and valued individually by MC.

-Thus having the proper brother on MC's side makes that connection a lot easier when it comes to certain brothers. Once that connection has been made and the game has less control, then MC can use the pact they made in the real world as the final move to disconnect the hold the game has in the virtual world.

-Again, however, it's not as simple as a few deeply passionate words and the veils are lifted from the brothers' eyes. Certain items can be found in each bedroom that helps strengthen the pact to mean something aside from a vow between a human and a demon. Requirements are necessary for progress.

-The pacts MC has with the brothers is a key relevancy to progressing the game. Without trying to appeal positively to their insecurities/fears the game has a strong hold on their minds and the use of their pacts aren't as effective

Rundown of What I Mean:

Mammon is the first demon MC bonded with and that applies itself strongly to their connection and relationship, especially in this event. I might be biased here, and not to mention I'm trial and erroring the story with my MC, Yuki, but I believe Mammon has the strongest connection with MC because of how he feels for them, how empathetic he is, and how emotionally aware he can be.

Mammon governs greed and already easily succumbs to his wants in the real world, but as of now in the canon story, he's grown a bit away from his sin, because of his relationship with MC, like most of the boys have. He can put MC above his own desires, and that influence deals a lot with how MC saves him after he attacks them in their room.

Mammon wants to sell MC's body, bit by bit, blood, teeth, hair, organs, nails, etc., as a means to pull in some serious money in the black market. Greed completely takes over Mammon, and he has very little regard for MC's life. When MC tries to use their pact's powers on Mammon the first time not much is really done, because the connection wasn't made. However, being the tutorial, Mammon becomes less influenced quicker than the rest of his brothers. MC has to remind him he's not a total scumbag that loves only money while Mammon is choking them out. So time is of the essence, because MC is physically harmed in this reality and can die as well.

I'll have a rough draft of this scene up later to better explain the process.

So Basically:

MC has to find items or something meaningful to assist them in helping the brothers become aware while under the game's manipulation, and then making a connection to their actual selves that helps absolve the mind control before using the pacts MC has made to finalize the severance, although it's not totally gone.

How I Plan to Progress the Event (Susceptible to Change) and Suggestions That Have Been Implemented by Other People So Far:

-MC starts the event off at the Lord Demon's castle with Diavolo and Barbatos before returning to the HoL to play with Levi. Before MC leaves Barbatos gives them two coins and a cautionary warning [credit to @jinxed-rose ]

-The unstable powers of MC conflicts with the game and locks the HoL and its residents inside the virtual reality.

-The game treats the brothers as bosses and turns their worst qualities up to 11. The small glimpses of how we saw the brothers in the beginning of the game before warming up to the MC is how they're portrayed in the game. They're meaner, deadlier, and heavily warpped from their original selves.

-MC can physically be hurt and/or killed, so the more of the brothers they can rescue the easier the game will be to traverse.

-The brothers are ranked by the order of when they got a pact with MC. So the optional progression between the brothers would be Mammon, Levi, Beel, Asmo, Satan, Lucifer, and Belphie. The longer MC has been in a pact with the boys the easier it is to sway them out of their brainwashing, but it doesn't have to be in this order [credit to @felix-the-lemon-king ]

-Another option of progress with the brothers can be psychological fortitude. What I mean by that is the boys' durability to withstand breaking down from their insecurities being provoked. So Mammon's biggest fear is MC getting hurt so he's automatically the first boss and Lucifer would be among the last to confront because he's mentally strongest and that's where the issues would lie. [credit to 13ineedpills13 on AO3]

-Levi is an optional boss that can be done early or late in the game, it doesn't really matter. If MC goes for Levi first, he'll be relatively easy to return to normal, but if MC doesn't get to him until later then he'll be a lot harder to help. If MC attempts to rescue the others before Levi and succeeds the game will make him aware of this. Levi will get more and more enveloped by envy and jealousy and his insecurities will worsen, making it harder to appeal to him. [credit to @sunshine-apprentice ]

-The reason Levi is an optional boss to go after at any time is because he has a mystery that reveals itself later as the event starts ramping up and big reveal towards the end. It's not really a secret if you read the notes on prior posts, but shhh. [credit to @felix-the-lemon-king ]

-Lucifer is the assumed main person to look out for, because he is the elder, head of the house, and most powerful and sadistic. He watches from the shadows and sets up elaborate snares and ambushes to sike out and slowly breakdown MC. Beel is more frequent around Lucifer's bedroom.

Somewhat Established "Rules" of the Game:

-Each encounter with the brothers during the actual moments of fighting and struggling will be violent and dangerous. Injuries will be painful and won't magically heal after the fight is done. [credit to syvintri on AO3]

-Death is very much possible, but it's tough for the brothers to die. It's not that hard for MC though. So, perma-death is plausible, but it's evened out with the two coins MC gets from Barbatos.

-The end goal is in Levi's bedroom, but it won't be accessible until after the brothers have all been released from the grip of the video game.

-MC's room is the only actual safe room in the house, so it's basically the headquarters

-Beel is the guard that routinely patrols the hallways, but he can be lured away with food from an area for a bit of time

-Each brother's room has a way to help figure out how to un-brainwash the boys, but they are dangerous to go into

-Overcoming the boys' insecurities and sins are a key relevance in progressing the game

-Line up of the boys in order as bosses (potentially): Mammon, Asmodeus, Belphie, Beelzbub, Satan, Lucifer, Leviathan

Concerns and Questions:

There's still a lot of gaps and unfilled holes that I'm not entirely sure how to connect properly. Trying to figure out how to write the encounters between the brothers that are being manipulated and MC/the brothers rescued is going to be tricky. Making sure the boys' characterizations stay close to how they would be will be a challenge.

So my questions for you will help me figure out what people would like to see and also help me connect dots in the story and plot.

A matter to discuss, for instance, is what a comment said on AO3:

"I think them interacting in a proper manner storywise when they are brainwashed is impossible, and such a drag to read. They should only interact during battles, and after battles, as they go on and save the others."

How should I go about writing the progress of the story?

Should I write it like an actual fanfiction, all detailed and specific and going at a constant pace, or should I skip moments instead of writing every scene that could occur to stay fresh and steady-paced, or should I try to base the chapters like actual event lessons in-game where stuff happens briefly and isn't very long?

Or another comment:

"So maybe this is just me, but I think it'd actually be more horrifying if the 'game' wasn't perma-death. Especially if everyone remembered despite any sort of revives or resets and with in-game injuries actually being painful. There's a high potential for angst is all I'm saying. But I guess that lends itself better for a normal fic rather than a choose your own adventure thing"

How should I write the "fight" scenes?

Should they be brief yet detailed or meaty with the conflict as MC tries to resolve the situation before anyone gets too hurt oor would this be good moments for turmoil between the brothers to arise and brawls break out ooor... I don't know what else.

How would the angst and heavy trauma best be applied according to y'all?

What kind of angst would each brother go through as MC tries to rescue them?

Some other questions:

Is the line up of the brothers as bosses okay, or should they be reconfigured to make more sense? Should it be linked how psychologically weak to strong they are or how their sins correspond to the next?

What would they be like at their absolute worst? How far do you think they could dive into their sins if they didn't have morals?

How dangerous would the brothers be?

How would the game use each character's insecurities and fears as their driving point?

How would you like to see brothers interact with MC during the confrontation? Or with each other before/during/after?

If MC were to die what would be the best way to take them out that would really fuck up the boys and devastate the psyche? Any brother is liable to maim or hurt the MC, but which one(s) could actually kill them? Or if a brother took a hit meant for MC, who would be more inclined to step into the line of fire?

These aren't all the questions that I have knocking around in my head and stumping me, but they're the biggest ones. I would like to hear inputs from others, BUT PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE don't feel inclined to answer everything that I've listed. Those are just questions that I thought of and put on this post as examples of what I'm trying to figure out.

Finishing Off:

So yeah. That's the progress I've made so far, both on my own and from suggestions and opinions from other people.

I'd love to hear what y'all have in mind or would like to suggest or a take on a matter for any scenes, interactions, or whatever. Even if it's ideas of your own that relate to something that hasn't been brought up or mentioned, feel free to comment it or send me an ask.

Something this extensive will require a lot of thought and work to be done right, so that's why I had the notion of making this an interactive AU

So, if you're interested or wanna talk about the concept, hit me up! I'm dying just to ramble about potential stuff or read viewpoints about the brothers that you want to see happen or stances for whatever.

#obey me #obey me au #obey me dark au #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me levi #obey me beel #obey me lucifer #obey me leviathan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #jess writes

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child-of-hurin · 3 years

Note

So I’m thinking of a Narn AU where Húrin isn’t set on Thangorodrim and remains a prisoner in the fortress. His children are still cursed and he is still regularly shown images of them but it doesn’t take up all his time as it does in canon. I bring this up because I was curious what you think about how much of the bad things that befall Túrin and Niënor were explicitly planned before. Because I’ve always thought that the compelled incest part was at least in some way planned before and was very specifically about Húrin watching the ruining of his bloodline (which goes back to my other cursed HCs) in addition to the suffering it would bring his children.

Anyways no pressure to answer or anything I was just curious if this was something you had thought about

-@outofangband

(Disclaimer: I haven’t read much of the HoME besides what pertains the Narn, meaning I haven’t read any extended material on Melkor and so on.)

Honestly this is a very interesting question that I have posed myself before. It brings to mind this passage:

[Transcript:

Report of the Dragon-helm in the land west of Sirion came swiftly to the ear of Morgoth, and he laughed, for now (1) Túrin was revealed to him again, who had long been lost in the shadows and under the veils of Melian. (2) Yet he began to fear that Túrin would grow to such a power that the curse that he had laid upon him would become void, and he would escape the doom that had been designed for him, or else that he might retreat to Doriath and be lost to his sight again. (3) Now therefore he had a mind to seize Túrin and afflict him even as his father, to torment him and enslave him.]

My conclusions here are:

(1) Melkor’s ‘eye’, which Húrin had been forced to access as well, couldn’t penetrate Doriath under Melian’s power. Makes me think the whole time Túrin was growing up, Melkor had Húrin watch Morwen and Nienor’s growing misery in Dor-Lómin instead?

(2) Everyone has talked about this a hundred times because it is so incredible. So the doom was defeatable? So, cosmically speaking, there was some validation in Túrin’s methods of seeking war and power? Much to think about

(3) This bit is the only passage I can recall where instead of vague threats, the text gives us a concrete plan of Melkor’s for this family. When he sets Glaurung forth, we have absolutely no idea whether his actions were meticulously planned by Melkor, a mastermind, or just strokes of Glaurung’s own evil creative genius as derivated from Melkor’s will or whatever.

So. My opinion is that it isn’t a plan. First and foremost because I hate the anime villain type who was secretly controlling all the variables of the game, but also because I genuinely don’t get this aesthetic from Melkor/Tolkien. Melkor’s power is godlike; it doesn’t come from logic control over the material world, but from a more intimate relationship with what makes the material world itself.

Thinking of two events: one, when Melkor releases Húrin. Melkor has changed and posioned Húrin’s spirit, but Húrin isn’t aware of that. Húrin still hates Melkor, but, as we see in the Wanderings, he is still an agent of Melkor (to use a term @promin-blog used in [that interesting meta post you reblogged recently]). Compare that to Niënor, to whom something very similar happens: Glaurung poisons her spirit and then sets her free.

In my understanding, in neither of those two situations did Melkor or Glaurung know exactly what was going to be the outcome; they just knew it was going to be bad for their captives, and thus, good for them. Melkor is a being of chaos against the benign order of the world, so he fundamentally gains from an increase in the chaos, or a corruption in the order of the world. So when he explains the curse to Húrin, he says:

‘You say it,’ said Morgoth. ‘I am the Elder King: Melkor, first and mightiest of all the Valar, who was before the world, and made it. The shadow of my purpose lies upon Arda, and all that is in it bends slowly and surely to my will. But upon all whom you love my thought shall weigh as a cloud of Doom, and it shall bring them down into darkness and despair. Wherever they go, evil shall arise. Whenever they speak, their words shall bring ill counsel. Whatsoever they do shall turn against them. They shall die without hope, cursing both life and death.’

I take that at face value in terms of, this is literally how it works. He didn’t know exactly that Húrin would kill Mîm, bring the Nauglamír to Thingol, then fight with his once-beloved Haladin kin and cause their destruction, just like I don’t think Glaurung knew Niënor would find Túrin, fall in love with him and have his child. BUT they knew releasing these poisoned agents would benefit their cause one way or another. (I do think Melkor presumed correctly that Húrin might try to find Gondolin though! Hence the spies). So I guess I don’t agree with you that the incest was pre-planned, although I do think the ruining of Húrin’s bloodline was definitely a huge point that, in Melkor’s mind, was probably inevitable. If Túrin had, say, had a baby with Finduilas, Melkor would have gotten a hold of that baby too, at some point... I think when he says he is the master of the Fates of Arda, he means that his will has too powerful a hold over Arda to be broken, and not, necessarily, that he controls every detail of it.

That makes me think of that passage you mentioned recently in your blog:

“But ever the Noldor feared most the treachery of their own kin who had been thralls in Angband; for Morgoth used some of them for his evil purposes, and feigning to give them liberty sent them abroad; but their wills were chained to his and they strayed only to come back to him again” (”Of the Ruin of Beleriand”, p188, The Silmarillion)

It makes me wonder how many of these elves were, like Maeglin, aware of their own collaboration, and how many might have hated Melkor their whole lives while still being agents of his will 😬

It’s a super depressing thing, this possiblity that the Narn puts forth, of an otherwise free person being permanently and inescapably ruined for as long as you hold your material existance in this realm. It is the ultimate corruption of free will, because it means no matter which choices you make, they will always come to evil. You’re helpless: intent doesn’t matter, hard work doesn’t matter. I think it’s fitting with Melkor being a god, after all! That’s why it’s relevant that out of the five members of this family, only one is directly murdered by Melkor’s actions. The others take their own lives, although more indirectly in the case of Morwen - the only one who “was not conquered”. The rest of them, Túrin, Nienor, and Húrin, end up choosing death as an escape, and I think it is in a way because they ultimately understand that Melkor is playing on a godlike level that they, as mortals, cannot reach.

WHICH BRINGS ME TO ANOTHER DEPRESSING THING. We, as readers, have the benefit of knowing that Mandos exists and Eru exists and the Ainulindale happened. We have also read about Beren’s spirit lingering in Mandos waiting for Lúthien. So we ASSUME there is an afterlife for the second-born. We know Tolkien envisioned that, spiritual man that he was. But in the narrative, mortals themselves don’t have any reassurance of that!

So this exchange here becomes even more chilling:

So?

Did he lie?

#so did he lie? this is what used to keep me awake at night fam #did he lie?#melkor #the children of húrin #húrin #silmarillion #outofangband #btw menel we stan #i love the dantesque/medievalesque/aristotelesque touches of worldbuilding whenever Tolkien gives us them...#cw suicide discussion #a fairytale about slavery

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skekheck · 4 years

Text

All About the Seven Clans: The Dousan

This post contains everything I could find about the Dousan. Some information written here are from older material and may either contradict statements or is no longer relevant. I will do my best to string it all together as coherently as possible. If there is information that I am missing, please let me know and I’ll add it!

Clan Index: Dousan Drenchen Grottan Sifa Spriton Stonewood Vapra

Overview

An elusive clan that lived in the Crystal Desert, also known as the Crystal Sea and Desert of the Dead. Being the most spiritual of the seven clans, their lives revolved around Thra, its mysteries, and the cycle of life and death. For these reasons other gelfling clans were suspicious and even afraid of them. The skeksis encouraged this by spreading their own rumors and barred the Dousan from becoming guards at the Castle of the Crystal for they found their worship of death revolting.

The Dousan’s clan color was orange, their totem animal the Daeydoim, and their core elements were the skies, endless heavens and the studies of its celestial bodies, and lightning. Their sigil color was dark yellow/orange and their pennant colors were orange, blue, and yellow.

Characteristics

The Dousan had one of the most striking features among other gelfling. Their skin were mainly blue, but had hints of yellow that started at the forehead and could extend down the face. Eye color tended to be very light, almost off-white in some cases, sticking to yellows, greens, and browns. Darker eye colors were also possible. Primary hair colors were purple or white with strands of dark brown and/or white. It was commonly styled in braids, ponytails, dreadlocks, and sometimes a combination of all three. Some also preferred to shave their heads. In concept art, a Dousan’s wings were white with black spots.

As they were a minimalist clan, the Dousan dressed for function over appearance and adorned themselves sparingly. They wore long flowing cloaks that protected them from the weather and were light enough to travel. They were crystal-weaved from the crystals scattered along the desert which made the Dousan blend into its sparkling, ever moving sand currents. Much like their pennant, their clothing sported dark blues, yellows, and oranges although black, browns, and reds were also worn. It was common for Dousan to have head protection, whether it were hoods, headscarfs, or other head covering. Of the few accessories a Dousan had were their bone charms, attached with simple marble and string. Spiritual leaders carved their bones with geometric patterns.

Tattoos

Arguably the most prominent feature of the Dousan were their tattoos. They weren’t just tattooed on the face, but their bodies as well. Each tattoo told a story, usually of significant experiences from their adventures in the desert. It also doubled as protection from the Three Suns. Common colors were deep blue, green, and gold, found in abundance from the pollen and plants of crystal palms. Rarer colors were white and silver. If the Dousan desired these colors, they would had to go get the material themselves. This was one of the few instances of materialism they displayed.

The tattooing process was long and painful. It was performed with Crystal Skimmer scales, a mallet, and plenty of ink. The scales were laced with thousands of small spikes and could be cut and shaped into different patterns. The tattooer, which was always an elder sage from the Wellspring, would place the scale spines facing down and pounded onto the skin so it was kept in place. Drops of ink would then be inserted into an opening carved within the scale and then bled into the skin. Because the spines were not closely knitted, the process was repeated several times to get a rich solid color.

Connection With The Skeksis (and Mystics) and Belief System

They were one of the few gelfling clans far removed from skeksis influence. The Dousan even went as far as omitting prayer and rituals based around the lords which was considered heresy. SkekMal the Hunter seemed to have been the only skeksis that interacted with them, but his visits were rare. This doesn’t mean the Dousan were completely removed from their involvement with the Lords of the Crystal. They supplied them with incense and desert-specific animals such as the peeper beetle and guided the Hunter when he needed passage through the desert. Instead, the Dousan were influenced by the skeksis’ other halves: the urru.

There was conflicting information surrounding just how many were involved (either one or two) and the name(s) are not confirmed. However, according to Songs of the Seven Clans, “guardian” and “navigator” were named. Deduction suggests they could be urZah the Ritual Guardian and urGoh the Wanderer. It was also not exactly known why the mystics taught the Dousan as the mystic way was to observe not intervene. But the Dousan inherited their beliefs and adopted an introspective nature. They were taught how to meditate, guard rituals, and listen. They also had beliefs in sacred geometry, represented by the bone charms they wore. The Dousan believed they were given the responsibility by Thra to contemplate the mysteries of life. Much like the mystics, they surrendered themselves to Thra’s will and wisdom and never interfered in the grand scheme of things even if it meant losing the precious gifts Thra provided for them.

Then, of course, was their apparent worship of life and death. They believed the threshold between the two realms were very thin and thus created a tradition around the inevitable. That being said, the Dousan believed death was not the end nor should be caused for fear or sorrow. When life ended, it began anew in Thra’s lush beauty. For many Dousan, becoming comfortable with death was a lifelong spiritual pursuit. They were also the only clan who viewed Mother Aughra and the skeksis as mortal beings instead of immortal deities.

While the mystics taught the Dousan their ways, the clan eventually forgot who they were. Their likeness was illustrated within the Wellspring Cloister, but they were constantly misinterpreted as the skeksis (which was discouraged by elder sages). The Dousan had simply referred to them as ancient sages.

Lifestyle

When the Six Sisters were given their duties, the sister which would become the first Dousan maudra was given the heavens to study the suns, moons, and stars. It was there that they made their home in the Crystal Desert.

The Dousan were nomads. Living in an arid climate plagued by storms and sands that continuously shifted discouraged permanent settlement outside the Wellspring. They made their homes out of sand skiffs (also called sand ships), their trusted Crystal Skimmers, and camps. Because of this constant change and travel, the Dousan had particularly simple and immaterial lifestyles. They had very few possessions and only carried what they needed.

Due to the scarcity of materials, they used whatever they could find including the crystals found in the desert and the remains of deceased animals. They were particularly skilled in bone carpentry, utilizing bones and other animal remains for tools, shelter, ships, and instruments. Their preferred weapon was the bone dagger. The Dousan traveled all throughout the dangerous desert, but there were places even they refused to go. They believed the Circle of the Suns, a ruin located deep within the Crystal Desert, was cursed. The clan unanimously agreed to forbade anyone from traveling there.

Daily Routine

Daily work was put into two categories: body tasks and spiritual tasks. Body tasks involved food preparation, collecting water, seeking shelter from storms, scavenging, and other types of physical labor. They were assigned during specific times of the day or in cases of emergencies. The rest of their time were dedicated to spiritual tasks. Most of it involved meditation but also included minor things like incense making and fire burning. It helped remind the Dousan of their communion with Thra and the Crystal and reflect on their own mortality. These rituals helped the clan face the harshness of the desert, approaching dangers and finding the paths to precious resources.

Diet

The Dousan were mostly vegetarian but they weren’t strangers to meat. They refrained from eating diurnal animals and hunted nocturnal insects, birds, and other animals instead. Their primary source of food came from the flowers and vegetation that grew in the desert which, unlike animals, had no restrictions. Water was collected at night as that’s when desert dew was able to form and were collected in shallow water traps. Considering the environment they lived in, they rationed their food and water but doing so taught the Dousan about self control and restraint. Before eating, they would take a moment to acknowledge the plants and animals who gave their lives so that the gelfling could consume them.

Some notable Dousan foods were fruits found at the Wellspring. They had slightly hairy, leathery rinds with yellow meat. The taste was described as sweet with a “green” after taste resembling that of meadow grass. A delicacy among the southern xerics were raw spine flower blossoms drizzled with nectar from the flower’s pollen.

While not eaten for food, the urdrupe berries were another staple vegetation of the Dousan. They were hallucinogenic and when eaten helped one converse with Thra and see the future. Taking urdrupes was a notable occurrence among shamans.

The Xerics

The Dousan had a particularly large population, but rarely would congregate together and were always apart within the vastness of the desert. Therefore, a highly organized system of close-knitted groups called xerics were created. There were twelve in total, which were made up of 12 - 30 gelfling. Smaller xerics were solely reliant on sand skirffs while larger ones needed the aid of Crystal Skimmers, sometimes more than one. A Dousan was assigned to a xeric by the Dousan Maudra and her council of sandmasters and elders based on the gelfling’s aptitude and skills. When a gelfling was assigned a xeric and left the Wellspring it was an important day and often celebrated. Each gelfling were given specific roles depending on the size and territory of that xeric.

Sandmaster: Also referred to as a captain, they were apprentices selected and trained by the Maudra. They often made decisions and acted on her behalf as well as commanded over their assigned xeric. The sandmaster carried a horn made of bone that would summon the Dousan together in emergencies. They also carried a smaller bone-like whistle to command their Crystal Skimmer if they had larger xeric. They held the highest rank above the other roles in the xeric unless the Maudra was present.

Second sandmasters: Dousan who worked and trained under the sandmaster should they need to take over. They also served in the xeric’s council, making decisions along with the sandmaster and elders before action was taken. True to their namesake, there were two of them and they held the second highest rank in the xeric.

Guardian: Gelfling that were given this role were usually the elderly members. They were ritual guardians well versed in meditations and practices observed and performed by the Dousan. They were in charge of delegating daily spiritual tasks and acted as mentors. Being a well respected member of the xeric, they held a similar ranking to the second sandmasters and served on the sandmaster’s council.

Pilots: Important sand sailors who worked in and out of transit. They were in charge of controlling sand skiffs. They seemed to be specific to smaller xerics.

Navigators: Similarly as important as pilots although they were found in all xerics. They were readers of the skies and kept an eye on the constantly changing dunes. Some navigators were far-dreamers.

Crystal Skimmer Trainer: A role only found in larger xerics. An offset of normal pilots who directed and trained with Crystal Skimmers. It was said it took a great deal of bravery and fortitude to build strong bonds with Skimmers as they were headstrong but otherwise loyal. During bad storms, the Dousan would climb into a Crystal Skimmer’s mouth for safety. They would also use the insides of the beast’s gums to store supplies.

Sand Sailors: Also called Sand Mariners, these were ordinary ranked Dousan. Sand sailors was also synonymous for the entire xeric crew aside from the sandmaster.

Dousan Song and the Language of Silence

As with all gelfling clans, song was an important part of the Dousan’s culture. It was said that theirs were unequaled as it invoked the very song of Thra and knitted the realms of the living and the dead together. The Dousan believed they were carried to them by the winds of the Crystal Desert.

But the strangest thing about their songs was plenty of it were silent. Even outside of that, the Dousan rarely spoke with their mouths. Rather they used a form of sign language called vojeye and communicated with each other with quick articulated hand gestures. It benefited both the body and spirit. Speaking would take away too much moisture so not talking conserved it. The sign language granted them a greater spiritual connection, being undistracted and always listening, they were able to hear Thra. Even in environments like the Wellspring, the Dousan preferred communicating in vojeye.

They also sung in vojeye. When a songteller, an uncommon role in the clan, “sings” they did so in a flurry of hand gestures. It became a beautiful fluid dance where entire stanzas and verses were told without sound. Much like many things in their culture, their songs were highly protected. On the rare occasion a Dousan sung instruments weren’t always involved. The songteller would simply use their environment or own body to create sound, like tapping their fingers against their knee. The only other times Dousan sung out loud were at funerals and the chants and prayers heard within the Wellspring Cloister.

Day of the Dying Sun

The most sacred Dousan holiday was celebrated when the Dying Sun was visible in the sky. The Dousan would gather in threes, removed their head coverings, and performed what was called an empty dreamfast. It was a dreamfast with no memories or voice, instead a shared meditation in silence. It would last until the Dying Sun dipped below the horizon. The Dousan saw the Three Brothers as representations of life and death, with the Dying Sun represented as the journey to death. They believed that by empty dreamfasting they shared the journey of the Triple Sun’s dying incarnation, better preparing themselves for the day they too would make that journey.

Trial of the Daeydoim

The trial was inspired by a re-imagining of Raunip’s story, something that the Dousan deeply related to. A star that fell from the heavens was given a name by Aughra and believed it was a native of Thra until it learned the truth. In contemplation of everything it learned, it wandered the desert for all eternity to find its final resting place. From its footsteps sprouted the Daeydoim.

The challenge was performed only twice in a Dousan’s life: once as a youngling when they were preparing to leave the Wellspring and second as an elder when they retired from their xeric. They would go out into the desert with nothing but a red sheet of clothing, leave the Wellspring in the dead of night, and not return for three days. If they returned, they were rewarded with milk from the Wellspring Tree. If they were a younging, they were allowed to stand by the Maudra and council to be assigned their xeric and role. If they were an elder, they were granted their “Last Home”, a hut by the Wellspring and a seat at the elder’s council. It’s unknown what the Dousan do during the trial and not all return.

Dousan Funerals

While funerals performed by other clans were somber, the Dousan’s were livelier. These were one of the very few times instruments and verbal singing were performed. The deceased would be buried underneath the soil of the Wellspring Tree and their belongings be piled into a pyre. The Maudra lights it and the other Dousan would celebrate the life of the fallen through songs and dance. The members of the deceased’s xeric would sing about their favorite memories about the gelfling. What remained of the deceased’s belongings were scattered among the sands of the desert by wind, signaling a final farewell.

Incense

The incense made by the Dousan were highly sought out by the other clans and could be found all throughout Thra. Even the skeksis used their incense during their own ceremonies. Its aroma was described to be savory and heady and produced a blue smoke.

Incense making was reserved only for elders at the Wellspring. The incense took the form of palm-sized chips which were burned in torch wells under enchantment until their signature blue smoke filled the air. Traditionally, the incense was made from dried bark from aging parts of the Wellspring Tree. it was grinded into fine powder and compacted into bricks using sticky sap also found from the Great Tree. It was left out to dry in arid conditions where the fine dust dried rapidly and hardened which was then carved into chips.

The Wellspring and Oszah-Staba

The Wellspring was the hometown of the Dousan. It was an oasis found within a valley far up north of the Crystal Desert and nestled around the Claw Mountains. It looked like a dense jungle with amber red and gold trees and a large lake with the Great Tree towering over it. The Dousan’s communal hearth was located near the back end of the lake. Tents, canopies, and Last Homes resided near the lake’s edges many of which were temporary. Only elders and younglings who had yet to be assigned to a xeric lived there. Most other Dousan only arrived to trade, refill supplies, or had wounds tended to. Only times when all Dousan congregated at the Wellspring were for emergencies or certain celebrations.

The Oszah-Staba, or simply the Wellspring Tree, was the Dousan’s Great Tree. It was characterized as an upper canopy of enormously broad leaves that provided shelter to travelers and prevented storms from reaching the Wellspring. It also produced a white milk from its leaves when cut which had lightning repellent properties. Dousan would smear this liquid on their clothing and skiffs for protection.

In the J.M. Lee book series, the Wellspring Tree was barely a waterlogged tree trunk beneath the lake. All the Dousan believed it had died except Periss, who kept insisting it wasn’t. When Periss helped Naia and her group to the Wellspring, he had them assist him in reviving the tree. With the help of Amri, Naia’s healing, and (with convincing) the entire Dousan clan, Oszah-Staba was revived and sprouted back to its former self just in time to dissipate the incoming storm that would had otherwise destroyed the Wellspring.

The Wellspring Cloister

Walking down a promenade hidden under the sand lead to the Wellspring Cloister that lied within the crags of the Claw Mountain. It was a temple carved by the Dousan over hundreds of trine. The entire cliff face as well as its insides were etched with figures and pictographs. It was written record of the Dousan’s wisdom, which included illustrations of the passage of time and the clan’s history. Among its notable illustrations were of gelfling, storms, the Wellspring tree, and the mystics. Within the temple was a large effigy of the Crystal of Truth, which was the size of an average gelfling. The Dousan would come to the Cloister to pray and at least three would be found there at a time.

Relationships With Other Clans

Due to cultural differences, the Dousan rarely leaving the desert, and misunderstanding, other clans were highly suspicious and generally found the Dousan morbid and creepy. Many of the stereotypes revolving the clan were most likely perpetuated by the Skeksis, but these beliefs were held through the Gelfling Rebellion as well. The Dousan’s quietness and being highly protective of also created the assumption they were aloof and unfriendly. However, the Dousan never prioritized their traditions over connecting with outsiders. They just had an individualized connection with Thra that was sacred to them and them alone so they never felt they needed to explain it to others. They were otherwise friendly with other Gelfling.

That doesn’t mean they didn’t share the clan-first mentality. Taking a mate from another clan was seen as a capital offense. At least before they were taught by the mystics they treated gelfling who committed this crime more brutally, going as far as to hunt them down even when they left the desert.

The only true clan relationship the Dousan had with was the equally nomadic Sifa. On the rare occasions they left the Crystal Desert, they would go to Cera-Na and trade with them. It was noted that every time the Sifa’s mother ship, Omerya-Staba, were audibly amazed at the sight of it. They dedicated a song to the vessel titled “the Sifa Mother of Sa-Schala”.

Aside from Cera-Na, Dousan travelers were also spotted in Ha’rar’s port markets but these visits too were infrequent.

Legacy and Connection With the Firelings

The Dousan may be the only known surviving clan after the end of skeksis rule. A village within an unspecified forest was founded by Chal the Explorer, an exiled Dousan early into the Age of Division. While not clearly indicated, the inhabitants may have been descendants of the clan and practiced aspects of their culture although plenty seemed to have been lost. It’s unknown if this village was kept a secret during the Age of Division and gelfling lived there, it was the origin place of another clan, or the descendants found out about it and settled.

Other descendants of the Dousan were the firelings, or at the very least the first firelings, as Chal was the father of Cindrah. They remained untouched by skeksis influence and were able to flourish during the Age of Division. There seemed to be small evidence of some of Dousan culture as the firelings had a group system similar to xerics early on in their history.

Notable Dousan Members

Rek’yr: The charming and slightly rebellious sandmaster from the late Age of Division. He was the captain of the southern xeric and former guide for the Hunter. He helped the gelfling resistance by guiding the gelfling to the Circle of the Suns with his Crystal Skimmer Bennu.

Maudra Seethi, the Skin Painter: The Dousan Maudra during the late Age of Division. She took the legacy of funeral rites seriously and made it her duty to pass them on to the next generation. Her transcendental dream-etching were said to be glimpses into the afterlife.

Periss: Younger brother of Sandmaster Erimon. Because he had conflict with the Dousan ways, he ran away and became a thief who wandered around Cera-Na and Ha’rar stealing all the riches he could find.

Erimon: A well respected sandmaster who commanded over a smaller xeric. He constantly butted heads with his brother over their ideologies and always had to fix the messes he made.

Chal: A significant member of the Dousan who lived early on in the Age of Division. An explorer who was cast out by his clan for being eloped to a gelfling from another clan. He discovered Mithra and the future home of Kensho and was the father of the first fireling.

Kataal: A Dousan who lived early on in the Age of Division. He and his xeric chased Chal across Thra to punish him for committing heresy.

Maudra Io: A Dousan Maudra from an unknown time period within the Age of Division. Her Skimmer, named Urami, was famous for its lineage went back to the Skimmer of the first Dousan that entered the desert.

Kensho: A descendant of the Dousan born in the Age of Power. Once an acolyte who made himself an offering to save his clan, his destiny became intertwined with the fireling princess Thurma who got involved with the re-breaking and re-mending of the Crystal of Truth. Later he gained the power of absorbing the darkening and became the leader of the Gelfling Nation.

Kolba: Another descendant of the Dousan and mother of Kensho in the Age of Power. She resided in the village founded by Chal.

[Sources: Song of the Seven Gelfling Clans, The Dark Crystal Age of Resistance, Inside the Epic Return To Thra, Official Dark Crystal Website, Song of the Dark Crystal, Tides of the Dark Crystal, Heroes of the Resistance, Author Quest: The Gelfling Gathering, Power of the Dark Crystal, the Dark Crystal Bestiary]

#the dark crystal #dousan #gelfling #all about the seven clans #dark crystal #my posts #long post #this is over 3K words enjoy LMAO

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avas-inner-demons-are-babies · 4 years

Text

Ohana

Ship: None (Though you may take implications as you please)

Summary: Leif has always insisted that he should be allowed to do things on his own. Well, now he’s on his own and honestly...he isn’t enjoying it. Perhaps a bit of new company can help him sort out his feelings.

A/N: Hey everyone! World’s most confused college freshman here, bringing you another MID fic that took waaay to long to get typed up. Legitimately, this has been sitting in my Google Docs for months, just taunting me. But there’s been a little less stresso in my espresso lately, so I took time to actually make myself sit down and get it done. I may not ship Ava and Leif personally, but their dynamic is just *chefs kiss*. I’ll never get over that whole “If you promise not to kill me then I won’t leave you behind.” “You’re with me till you die” scene. It makes me feel things. But anyways, this is nearly 14 full pages in G-Docs, and I hope you can all enjoy!

A/N 2.0: So apparently one of the cons of staying up late to finish a fic is forgetting to attach the actual fic itself to the post. My bad guys, here she be.

In his couple hundred years of living, Leif can proudly boast that he has done many, many things; some very common for Daemos of his age; others common to those much older than him; and there have even been a few select occasions when he has done things that even the most aged and experienced elders cannot ever claim to have done (getting exiled, befriending a prince, travelling dimensions to a world full of humans, befriending a human, living with a human, laughing with a human...the list seems to grow daily now).

However, out of all the various activities that he has taken part in throughout his life, he can safely say that people-watching has not been one of them. Back on Daemos, staring- like most other interactions, whether they be direct or otherwise- often resulted in battle; which, in turn, resulted in a lot of shouting and blood-shed. It was a silent show of disrespect and of challenge; and only idiots and warriors sought out battles willingly. And while the title of ‘warrior’ technically goes hand-in-hand with Leif’s recently earned place as a knight, the position is just that- recently earned. And despite what some may say, he is not an idiot. Considerate? Scholarly? Absolutely not. But street-smart and clever? Let’s just say he hadn’t become an infamous assassin by running solely off of reckless impulse and uneducated whims. But now, here on Earth, almost all of those skills have fallen into uselessness, and he can people-watch without any real concern for his life.

And by the Gods is he watching.

He is watching and scanning and listening and praying. Praying for a familiar face. Listening for the sound of a high voice discussing things of no importance, or for a loud, bratty complaint about anything at all; for a gentle-but-stern reprimand laced with patience, or a subtly nervous acknowledgement of some strange discomfort; even for a soft-but-proud observation of something completely obvious. Scanning for a flash of hot pink eyes or a bobbing carrot-top head of hair or a giant amidst the crowd of short humans. Watching so intensely for all of these things that the rest of the world seems to have filtered down into a watery hum.

To put it quite plainly, Leif is lost. Very lost in a very crowded place, with no idea where his group has vanished to or where he himself should (or even can) be. It had been fun at first; being able to do as he pleased; wandering wherever his whims decided to take him, stealing food from a group of small humans, kicking over trash cans, and just overall being a minor nuisance. But invigoration tends to fade very quickly when one is travelling a lot of unfamiliar terrain, and as it goes, so too does energy. It doesn’t help that they’d been at this “music festival” -as Ava had called it- for quite some time before he’d broken away from her and the others, and admittedly, he is starting to feel the strain on his feet from all the walking. In addition, the ridiculously large gathering of humans that bustle around him is beginning to leave him overwhelmed. And on top of that…

“...it’s starting to get cold” He pouts internally, suddenly rather grateful for the double-layered, long sleeve human shirt that Ava had gotten him. Ever since the Fall Festival, he’d noticed the air outside growing chillier by the day. It was starting to get to the point where their thoughtful human host unusually protective prisoner was considering going back to the Sacred Ma’all and obtaining them some “coats and hats and stuff”, to quote her specifically.

As a particularly nippy gust of winds arrives, lashing the tips of his ears as it dances through, he finds himself wishing desperately for these objects that he can not even properly picture.

Looking up at the sky, Leif can just make out the thin line of orange coating the horizon as the sun begins its lazy descent. Eyes narrowed, he decides to take a break. Plomping himself down on a nearby bench, he sighs, combing his fingers through his absolute mess of a mane.

“Ava promised.” He whispers, “She promised. They’ll be back. They have to come back.”

The city-dwelling regulars that skitter past him hardly spare a glance for the strange, mumbling man on the bench. It’s nothing they don’t already see on their daily commutes, and most would not blame them for their experienced silence. But Leif, who has no way of knowing what they know, takes their purposefully imposed ignorance as a personal offence. He feels segregated from their reality. Invisible.

Alone.

Leif hisses in a sharp breath as the word taunts him. Pressing his head into the palms of his hands, he represses a shudder. He should be used to this by now; being left to his own devices. How many times now has it been? How many betrayals and abandonments? Four? Five? More than one person should be able to count. He has been able to handle himself just fine before. So why now? Why now is he having such issues with finding his own way? He might call it ironic if he knew the meaning of the word.

“It’s because you got used to the cushy life.” A small voice in the back on his thoughts croons, “You liked being chummy with the Prince and his guard dogs. You liked that there was always food at the ready, and that you never had to worry where you were sleeping next. You liked the stability. The safety. And in time, you even came to like the laziness that this new world allowed.”

“That’s not true!” Leif barks back, not realizing how loud the proclamation was until several humans passing by wince and stumble as their paces quicken. He is sure to lower his voice as he continues to mumble to himself, “I can still take care of myself. I haven’t gone soft. I can do this.”

Taking in a long deep breath, he steels his will against the unpleasant thoughts racing around in his head. He bows his head and closes his eyes. When he opens them again a few ticks later, there’s a clear change. They’re collected. Focused.

“Yeah. Yeah, I can do this.” He reassures himself, feeling some of that original vamped-up feeling return, “I’m a Daemos dammit! I don’t need some human to hold my hand! I’ll find my own way home! And then.-then I’ll kill them! I’ll kill them for leaving me!”

The mental pep talk does great things for Leif. Now enraged and brimming with confidence, breathing heavily and nearly quaking with the emotion of it all, he puts on a sneer and glares out into the crowd. His fingers flex as he summons forth his sickles, ready to swing them out at any unfortunate soul that crosses his path. He stands, his knuckles white around their hilts. The dying sunlight has no effect on him anymore. His goal is apparent in his mind. He is prepared. Determined.

He takes one strong, bold step forward…

...and is subsequently swept off his feet by the force of a group of teens pushing past him.

Nearly losing his balance, Leif’s arms flail in an attempt to regain his balance, and he immediately bumps into a young couple. As they turn on him with vicious glares, he steps away from them. Disorientation takes this chance to rush through his system. As he fumbles about, one of his sickles manages to catch on the shirt of a small child toddling by with his mother. Leif jerks one direction while the boy jerks in the other. A shirt sleeve tears, and the little one goes sprawling to the ground. An ear-piercing shriek explodes from tiny lungs. All heads turn in their direction. Wide-eyed Leif throws away his weapons and presses his hands against his sensitive ears. While staggering away from all the attention, he runs into yet another man who- being caught completely off guard- falls back into someone behind him. As the domino effect continues, the noise and panic cause the poor Daemos to go into full flight mode. Gritting his teeth, he gathers just enough control to take a flying leap over the top of the completely bewildered mob. He lands back near the bench and grasps it tightly to keep himself from falling to his knees. As he takes a seat once more, the humans are all glancing around and shouting at each other in offense. The child continues crying.

Thoroughly defeated, Leif allows his head to fall back as he slumps down into the wooden comfort. Then, he lifts it back up only to cradle it in his hands. The unwelcome tears brought on by pure fear sting at the corners of his eyes. Releasing a shaky sigh, he finally gives into the thought that he has so far been refusing to voice.

“I’m doomed.”

***

Soaring high above the head of one particularly shaken Daemos, a careless pigeon makes its way around the festival with ease. Drifting aloof above the sea of hundreds of singing and laughing humans, it follows the breeze along the street and down towards one particular block, where a vendor has been handing out pretzels. And at this moment, it just so happens that a young woman, with flowing dark hair and vibrant pink eyes, has just dropped the remaining half of her salted treat on the ground. The pigeon is quick to join several of its other brethren in tearing at the free meal to pieces, completely unaware that shock is what delivered this wonderful treat to them. Although, they learn very soon after, as said young woman lets off a loud, horrified shout. Grey feathers go flying as the band disperses in a threatened rush.

The group of men trailing behind the woman jerk in surprise.

“Princess Ava? What’s wrong?” The youngest, a concerned looking redhead, calls out.

Ava stares at her companions with a feverish look. Pointing at each of them individually, the others can hear her counting them, over and over again.

“One, two, three, four...two, three, four...three, four, four, four! Why are there only four of you!” Her voice raises in both pitch and volume, “Where’s Leif?!”

Her words seem to settle with them all at the exact same time. The tallest of the bunch, Pierce, begins flickering his gaze from face to face, searching for the former-assassin in the horde of people around them. Rhys, Noi, and Asch all turn off in different directions, then come back and share a look. They all focus on Ava, who has turned to the ground with guilt-ridden eyes.

“How could I...he was just with us not too long ago, right? Right?” Her frantic question is only met with uncertain silence from her companions. Rhys goes as far as to look away, nibbling on his ice pop, “Oh God. We have to find him! Leif!”

Ava begins pushing her way through the crowd, crying out to her missing friend. The boys stick to her like frightened ducklings as they mimic her steps. Their screams rise above the swell of music and voices.

“Leif, where are you!”

***

As his friends begin their desperate hunt a few streets away, Leif finds himself aimlessly ambling along through the park. He has discovered that there are less people back within these tree-sheltered pathways and he is grateful for it. He is on the hunt for something, although if he were asked he would not be able to say exactly what. Shelter? Company perhaps? A sign pointing home would be nice, but he can’t really read all that well, and he doubts that there is one around regardless. For a natural-born hunter, he certainly does have an awful sense of direction.

His fingers tap against his thigh as he walks. On occasion, he mumbles curses at himself for getting stuck in this situation. The night sky is clear and bright, and more than once he finds himself staring up at it, feeling as though the stars are laughing at his plight. Gaining a little comfort in the embrace of the shadows, he sticks to them, glancing over every now and again to see a straggling human stroll by. He passes the fountain where he and Ava had encountered the threatening ‘clique’;passes a large stone statue of some long-dead human frozen in time; passes what looks to be a small garden area, where brightly colored flowers glow in the moonlight.

Eventually, Leif reaches an area that he first assumes to be abandoned. The quiet and empty wrap around him like a blanket. His only company seems to be the soft glow from the scattered lampposts. The peace here cradles him in its arms and promises him safety. He’s almost relaxed, resigning to spend the night in whatever tree provides the most cover and warmth, when suddenly-

“Heya there compadre.”

Leif startles back several feet and does a neat little twirl to face the direction of the slow and kindly voice that had called out to him. How he had missed the strange human before him in his first look around is beyond Leif, but he certainly sees the man now. He sits leaning against the nearest tree with an air of remiss and a smile on his face. Upon seeing Leif’s reaction to his greeting, he puts his hands up in reassurance

“Hwoa there! Didn’t mean to startle ya friend. Just couldn’t help but notice that you were lookin’ a tad lost.”

“We’re not friends.” Leif interjects so instinctively that he nearly cuts the stranger off. Then, catching his own tongue before he says anything truly offensive, he reroutes with, “But...yeah, I am lost. I got seperated from my group a while ago and haven’t been able to find them since. And I’m not very familiar with your kingdom yet, so I can’t just go back home.”

Thanks to the poor lighting between them, the Daemos misses how the stranger’s eyebrows quirk a little at his self-correction (and yet not the use of ‘kingdom’?). But as he makes his way over to this new human, Leif does begin to take in the man’s overall messy and unkempt appearance. His long, auburn hair is wrapped up into an extremely makeshift ponytail, the length of which surpasses even that of Pierce’s or Ava’s. The many rebellious strands held back out of his face by a thick, green fabric headband that’s stretched across his forehead. It must have been made to match the long, tassled poncho that he wears, their colors the same. Beneath it, he only seems to have a miserably stained grey shirt, and pants so baggy that Leif can not imagine them being comfortable. His skin, which at first appeared to simply be naturally dark, is actually merely a deceptive tan which highlights every freckle, scar, and wrinkle. Leif is sure that if he were to touch the stranger, he might have an almost leathery feel to him. Teeth no whiter than a well-worn paperback fill in a broad smile that brings to life the creases around the edges of both the stanger’s lips and eyes. Eyes that are brown like a healthy farm soil, and seem to hold a level of spirit and life that Leif can never recall having seen in any other person before. It’s unfiltered blatancy is surprising to him.

“Well ahh, what’cha waitin’ for?” The stranger suddenly picks up the conversation, scooching slightly to the right and patting the ground beside him, “Come’n take a seat. We can vibe while the universe carries the train of life down its long tracks.”

Leif hesitates. The human before him might be a stranger, but he emits an image that reminds the Daemos of the forest spirits that could be found back in his own world. The Earth seems comfortable around him. If one squinted, it would almost seem as though the tree’s trunk and roots had warped to form a throne around him.

“He seems like a powerful sage. I should stay. Maybe he can help me.”

Nodding to himself more so than the man, Leif takes his place on the grass. This results in a wide, toothy grin on behalf of his companion, and being so close now, Leif is able to notice how one of his canines is missing.

“Joyous day! You’ll be the first bit of company I’ve had in a long time my fellow wanderer. Say now, what’s your name?”

“They call me Leif.”

“Leaf? The name of a freelancer. A young man born for travel and change. A soul that dances in the wind, its colors ever uncertain.” The man’s smile softens and his eyes stare off in Leif’s general direction, and yet seem to be staring at something miles away, “You and I, I’m sure we’re the same. I’ve had many a name myself, but most around here know me as Jingle. It’s a pleasure to meet’cha.”

Jingle holds out a hand and they shake. Leif has seen this done enough times on the tee-vee to be able to properly pull it off, even if he doesn’t quite understand the significance. Then, glancing over his shoulder, Jingle proceeds to reach back and pull, from behind the tree, a forgeign looking object.

The thing is clearly made from some kind of light and polished earth wood. Its beige surface has been very delicately carved with a swirling, wave like pattern that decorated almost the entirety of its pear shaped body. A large round hole rests a little ways above the bottom. Stretched taut up its middle and along the long arm protruding from the top are six silver strings, wrapped at both ends around small metal nubs. At the head of the arm are six knobs all turned in various directions. None of the silver pieces shine, and in fact seem quite well worn. Nearly all of the impressive wood surface is riddled with scratches.

Jingle positions the thing against his chest.

“What is that?” Leif asks, eyeing it with unease.

“This here is my trusty guitar Taylor. I know she isn’t much compared to those clunky metal demons they’re selling out there-” Here, he nods his head out in the direction of the still-ongoing festival, “-but she does me just fine. So long as I keep her pretty, she sings like an angel.”

“It...sings?”

“As sweet and humble a tune as you might ever hear. Here, have a listen.”

With his nimble fingers already poised to play, Jingle wastes no time in coaxing a tune out from the air. From the first pluck of a string, Leif finds himself utterly enraptured. Each swift movement of the human’s hand brings forth another new wave of sound so soft and breathtaking that the Daemos doesn’t even know how to process it. It is as if Jingle’s soul is completely in tune with the instrument in his grasp. Leif sits stunned, feeling the music tempt his very heart and bring prickles to his skin. A minute passes, and he soon finds himself lying completely relaxed against the tree trunk, eyes closed, and merely absorbing.

Jingle plays for some time, and for that time the two are in their own universe. It is very dark now, and Leif can feel his mind just starting to slip off in unconsciousness. His body is heavy. Connected to the very grass he sits upon by an unnamable force that he chooses to call exhaustion. When his company eventually brings the song to an end, it takes Leif a few moments to reconnect with reality. Green eyes blink several times, and turn to find that Jingle is already watching for his reaction.

“That was amazing.” Leif breathes in as soft a tone as he’s capable of.

“Jus’ like I told ya. Voice of an angel.” Jingle hums, parroting his earlier words. He shifts to place Taylor on the ground beside him. When he turns back, he finds Leif staring into the space above them with a small frown on his face, “My friend, what troubles you? The world weighs heavy on your shoulders tonight.”

“I’m not sure. I just…” Leif trails off, searching within himself for an explanation for the crushing weight in his chest, “I think I miss my friends. I keep wanting them to be here, but they probably already left. I don’t think they’re coming back for me.”

They sit quietly for a few minutes. Jingle peers off down the park path. Leif clears his throat in a battle against the tight feeling that fills it. He jumps when a gentle hand lands on his shoulder.

“Lighten your soul wanderer Leif. Everyone leaves sooner or later, but just because they’ve left doesn’t mean they are gone. Pray tell, what doubts whisper in your ear tonight?”

“Eh?”

“Why do you assume so quickly that your friends won’t return to you?”

“Oh. The way you talk is really weird, you know that?”

The human man only smiles at him, patience and expectancy in his eyes. He makes a light gesture with his hand, urging Leif to continue. And after several seconds, he does with a tamed sigh.

“I’ve had a lot of people tell me that I cause more trouble than I’m worth.” The simple admission seems to close a giant force around his ribs. As it squeezes painfully, he finds himself emptying more words than he ever knew he had been filling up with, “I know I tend to go overboard most of the time, but I never- no, I guess just lately- I mean, I haven’t been meaning to cause problems recently. Everything is just so...so calm here, and I don’t know how to live like that. Back on- I mean, back where I’m from, peace and quiet always meant something was wrong, and we hardly go anywhere or do anything, and I just get so bored! I hate just sitting around and doing nothing, but it seems like that’s all the others want to do anymore. And I know I could probably just go out for a while on my own and burn some energy but your world is so big and I just...I don’t want to end up on my own again.”

He gives a forced and pitiful huff of laughter.

“Although I guess it’s too late for that now. I’m sure they probably already went home and forgot about me. They’re probably relieved to get rid of me.”

Leif hadn’t meant to let that flooding fear leak into his words. Or that harsh scratchiness of his throat, which left breaks in his sentences. The uncomfortable rhythm of his heart and the mild shaking must be showing through as well now. It makes no sense to him. He’s only felt this terrified once before- the day they had lost Ava at the Fall Festival. And although the circumstances now are similar, he can not imagine what it is about this strange human that seems to make those insecurities rise up in ten-folds. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t have the others with him now. Maybe it’s because he really has no idea where to go from here.

The panic had set on him so fast the Leif didn’t properly notice it until it was being chased away by the strong and defendant strums of a guitar. The first twang brought him to a jerking halt at first. But as the singing notes continued, his mind returned to the harmless reality. He came back to find himself looking at the stars.

Jingle- as if noticing Leif’s inner plight- had picked up Taylor once again.

“It is not so easy to forget one’s friends.” He murmurs as he plays, “Do not so swiftly dismiss your own worth my snowy-haired partner. If the universe truly believes you were meant to be with these people you seek, then it will surely guide them back to you. And it sounds to me that affection has already been allowed to roost deep in your soul.”

The younger has nothing to say to that. He only closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and nods. Drawing his knees to his chest, he crosses his arms and lies down his head. All these new emotions are exhausting.

***

Ava slumps down against the frigid stone of the fountain, pulling her knees up and hiding her face in them.

“I can’t believe this.” The muffled moan that escapes her is full of pain, “How could I lose him? What kind of friend am I? God, he probably thinks we abandoned him.”

“I don’t get what you’re so worried about.” Asch harrumphs, doing a single lap around the structure before taking a seat on its edge, “We haven’t encountered anything dangerous since we’ve been here on Earth. Leif can take care of himself for one night. Why can’t we just go home? It’s cold out here and I’m tired!”

Despite his childish whining, he at least has the decency to look sheepish when she turns to glare at him.

“Well if that’s the case Asch, why don’t we just leave you out here tonight? You’re always going on about how you’re so much better than Leif anyways, so if he can make it out here on his own, then clearly you can too.” During her short reprimand, Ava stands and crosses the few steps between them. Her eyes hold a level of rage that the Daemos can never recall having seen on her before. And despite the fact that he could easily beat her in a confrontation- physical or verbal- he feels himself shrinking in shame before her petite frame.

With a satisfied huff, Ava walks several paces away. In the short time it takes her to regain her composure, her anger morphs instantly into guilt. Her posture slumps as she glances back at Asch, whose hurt expression is turned towards the concrete.

“I’m...I’m sorry Asch.” She sighs, “I didn’t mean that.”

“I know.” Comes the humbled response from behind her.

“I’m just really worried about him.”

“I know.”

The next few minutes are shared in silence. The other three Daemos choose not to express a word on the exchange just yet, only shuffling about in their own thoughts. There is a level of complete loss between them. No one wants to leave Leif behind-- but Asch isn’t the only one whose focus and determination is beginning to wane.

A particularly nippy breeze blows through, causing Ava’s already shaking body to jitter violently. In a second Pierce seems to simply materialize beside her and pull her sniffling form into a warming embrace.

“Perhaps Prince Asch is right. We should go for now.” He suggests quietly as she leans into him.

“But Leif-”

“-Will be easier to find tomorrow when it is light out.” Rhys jumps in, “We are all concerned Princess Ava, but Asch does have a point. It is unlikely that Leif has found himself in any sort of real danger, and even if he has, he is a trained warrior. None of us are suggesting we abandon our search completely, but we are all at our limits. Even if we were to find Leif tonight, at this rate we may all end up sick by the morning. Please, we will follow you no matter your choice, but think reasonably.”

There’s a gentle hint of pleading in his voice that prevents Ava from denying his claims outright. She looks between all of them in turn, searching desperately for some counterargument that never comes to rise. It doesn’t take long before she finally lets herself really take in the heaviness of her own body; the stinging left in her feet from walking for so long; the need to close her eyes and rest that is becoming harder and harder to fight away. The boys watch with patience as her mind wears itself down, and they don’t miss the surrender that wins over her stature. There’s a quiet breath, then:

“...fine. Let’s just go home.”

Dear reader, have you ever managed to convince someone you love to do something they don’t want to, only to be hit with a horrible wave of guilt when they give in and agree to go through with it? Have you ever wished you could travel back in time just a few minutes, if only to stop yourself from being so damn persistent? If so, then maybe you can imagine how the Daemos boys feel at this point in time. The deep disappointment they observe in Ava’s eyes as she pulls herself from Pierce’s arms is enough to make their very souls wince. Three sets of eyes meet as their minds change almost unanimously, and Rhys can tell the other two are waiting for him to come up with some sort of clever escape. And being the man he is, he complies.

“Well, ah-just a moment Princess Ava. We...we haven’t heard from Noi yet! A decision such as this should be agreed upon by everyone present, yes? And perhaps if he believes we should stay out. Noi?”

Rhys shifts, hoping to prompt Noi into insisting that they stay. But the younger Daemos- who has been noticeably absent from the entire conversation- doesn’t appear to have even noticed his name being called. In fact, he likely missed the discussion as a whole, seeing as how he stares off down one of the darkness-swallowed paths with fully focused attention. His amber eyes sparkle with wonder. In listening closely, one may have heard him humming.

Debate temporarily forgotten, Ava and the rest focus on him with quirked eyebrows and tilted heads.

“Uhh...Noi?” Asch beacons tentatively.

“Do you hear it?” Noi whispers in response, to all of them and yet no one in particular.

“Hear what?” Ava asks, frowning, “I don’t hear anything.”

Pierce steps forward and rests his chin atop her head.

“I hear it.”

“Me too.” Asch adds after a moment.

“Me as well.”

“Wait, seriously, what are you guys hearing? It’s just quiet for me.”

“It’s music.” Rhys says, “Different from what the humans at the festival were playing. It’s quieter.”

“Softer.” Pierce adds, and the scholar nods.

“Earlier there were voices too.” Noi finishes.

“Wait, voices? But who else would be out this la-” Ava’s eyes spark up wide. Before the guys can even hit the same realization she has, she’s already gone; taking off with flying feet and a new swarm of adrenaline buzzing through her veins. “LEIF!”

“Princess Ava!” A chorus of Daemos voices rise up through the night, and they sprint, one after the other, along her trail. Her voice bounces off the surveying trees.

“Leif!”

***

“Leif!”

Two men sitting beneath a canvas on moonlit leaves jerk their heads up in unison. The elder lowers his guitar and puts on a muted, knowing smile. The younger goes tense as he strains his ears for the echoes of the voice that had rushed at them in the night. His green eyes go wide as can be, quite literally glowing with hope. He places one, prepared hand on the ground…

“Leif!”

Springing to his feet faster than should be natural, he runs only a few paces forward.

“Ava?” He breathes. The sound of rushing feet pouding closer out of the darkness causes him to gasp and with the new air in his lungs he shouts out, “Ava! Ava, I’m here!”

Leif steps into the light just as his human friend barges into its threshold. He’s tossed off his already imbalanced feet as she tumbles with a football-tackle force into him. They go down together onto the rocky ground. Ava clings desperately to his shirt, as if afraid he will vanish into thin air at the impact. Before either have fully taken to their jarring landing, he finds her burying her face into his neck, sobbing almost hysterically with relief. Her sporadic hiccups seem to be contagious, and for the first time since quite possibly his toddler days, he finds himself holding onto another person like a lifeline and shedding tears that he hardly cares if others see.

“I’m so sorry.” Ava manages through uncontrollable gasps, “I’m so, so sorry Leif.-”

“It wasn’t your fault, I’m-”

“-I didn’t mean to leave you. I just turned around and you were gone and-”

“-the one who walked off. I’m an idiot for thinking-”

“-we looked everywhere for you! We almost went home-

“-I got so lost without you-”

“-I didn’t want to, but Noi heard you and I’m just-”

“-I’m just-”

“-So happy you’re back.”

The unorganized scrambling over each other’s apologies ends with synchronization. Still sniffling, Ava lifts her head from his shoulder and meets his gaze. There’s a pause. Then broad, toothy smiles replace quivering frowns, and their foreheads press together as they share a laugh.

It’s around this time that the other four Daemos reach their position, only to find their newly reunited friends on the ground, trying to hold back bursts of giggles. The picture absolutely throws them. More so because of Leif’s bubbly demeanor than Ava’s, though both are certainly a sight to behold-- with tousled hair and dusty clothes, goosebump rippled skin now detailed with red marks where they had slid against the concrete. And yet the two grin and carry on in that way that can only be done after one’s stress-forced sense has left them, their cares evaporating into thin air. Earth truly must be turning them soft, because the once strict and stone-cold warriors- upon surveying the scene- give genuine smiles of their own.

It takes a little bit of time before the pair actually settle down enough to sort themselves out and stand once again. Even then, Ava makes sure to link her arm with his, swearing inwardly to never let him out of her sights again. Leif on the other hand, does his best to recollect himself, not wanting to give the others any more reason to pester him later about the blatant displays of emotion. He hides his flushed face in his sleeve, pretending to wipe a smear of dirt off his face.

‘It’s nice to see you again.” Rhys says with only a hint of scolding behind his words, “Though if you ever run off like that again, you’re finding your own way home.”

“That’s fair.” Leif replies with a shrug of his shoulders. He doesn’t miss how Ava studies his reaction from the corner of her eye.

“Did you miiiss us?” Asch drawls mockingly, stepping forward with a smirk on his face. Despite the remark, he gives Leif a friendly knock on the shoulder- a habit he’d unknowingly picked up a few weeks ago.

Leif only scoffs, but it tells them all they really need to know. He looks downwards briefly and mumbles something that only the young Prince seems able to hear. Asch blinks in recoil, then replaces his cheeky grin.

“What was that?” He asks incentively, “I don’t think we all heard you.”

Leif growls a low growl.

“I said-ugh-thanks for...looking for me.” Then, adding on more softly, “It’s nice to know you guys actually cared enough to find me.”

“Well duh.” Ava’s response causes him to lift his head in her direction, “I made you a promise didn’t I?”

His mind flashes back to that day they were shopping for decorations. He’d almost convinced himself it was a dream.

“Yeah. I guess you did.”

“Besides-!” Suddenly, Noi appears in front of him, beaming in the friendly boyish way that used to get him mocked back on Daemos, “You’re one of us! No man left behind, right?”

“I-”

“Exactly.” Rhys cuts him off in affirmation, “Despite your chaotic personality and violent tendencies, you are still an important part of our group.”

“You-”

“Yeah.” Asch sighs, carefully selecting his next few words, “I’m not sure where we’d be without our healer honestly. And...I will admit that you’re the only one here who’s any fun to spar with.”

“Yes.” Finally, Pierce, “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

As Leif gapes at all of his friends in turn, something new solidifies within him. See, when Asch had saved him from execution all those years ago, the Prince had earned his life. And with that, over time, there came undying loyalty. But it was always saved for Asch alone. The others had been tolerable companions at most, at least until they got to Earth.

Then came along Ava, who unintentionally became their focal point. She was important to him- to all of them. But he wouldn’t have died for her. Not at the start. That problem arose when she became fond of them, and they- in turn- of her. It only took a couple weeks after Leif had admitted to himself that she was actually rather preferable company, that he seemed to swear away to her the same things he had gifted Asch. His life. His loyalty. Fresh off the line went his affection as well. And although at this point, he was close to the other Daemos, he still felt separate. A product of his own mind and the upbringing that was so very different from their own.

It’s taken until now for that last link to click into place. That camaraderie which he’d been lacking now swarms through his morals and rearranges itself among those mental pieces. He feels some of his outlooks shifting. Most importantly, a single, powerful thought plants itself in his mind and takes root.

“They want me.”

His chest swelling, the most Leif can manage is, “Thank you.”

The sound of quiet shuffling a few feet away accidentally breaks through the touching moment. The emotional bunch all turn their attention to a man standing like a startled cat beneath a nearby tree. Clearly, he had meant to scuttle away unnoticed.

“Who is he?” Noi asks.

“Oh that’s Jingle.” Leif tips his head in the direction of the musical man, who has gathered his meager belongings in his arms. At the mention of his name, he winces slightly and gives a wave, “He’s been letting me sit with him. He's pretty cool for a human. The way he talks is weird though.”

Now, Ava, the Earth and city specialist of the group, immediately recognizes Leif’s apparent companion as a member of a nomadic homeless community that had just taken its annual place in one of the far back corners of the park. She’d never spoken to the man in true conversation, but she can recall exchanging a few words with him last year after she’d heard him playing the exact same guitar he now cradles to his chest. He had an impressive talent that convinced her to deliver him several dollar bills and whatever meager change she managed to hold onto after her sparse commutes to the mall or grocery store. She can vouch for the fact that he does say some fairly strange things on occasion. However…

“Hey, you’re that chill guitar man I met last year.” She says, hoping to spark some comfort in his cautious air, “Have you really been hanging out with Leif this whole time?”

Jingle nods, shifting into a more permanent stance.

“You didn’t have to do that. But I’m thankful that you did.” She smiles warmly, “Honestly, I was worried he might have gotten himself into trouble.”

“It was no problem young miss.” Jingle makes the effort to reply, “I’d seen you all together early in the day, and happened to catch my fellow wanderer out on his own. He looked like he could use someone to hold him steady until his world righted itself again.”

“Ah...yeah. I don’t doubt that he did.” Digging into her pockets, Ava pulls out five dollars- the sole remnants of cash that was pretty much all spent on food, “Here, please take this. It isn’t nearly as much as you deserve, but it’s all I have.”

The older human steps forward to accept the money from her outstretched hand with a grateful expression. Immediately after pocketing it, he spins back around in the other direction and walks away into the night. Ava silently determines to continue her tradition from before if she can manage to find him again in the coming weeks. But before any of that-

“Come on you guys. Let’s get home.”

#aphmau my inner demons #aphmau mid #mid ava #mid leif #mid noi #mid asch #mid rhys #mid pierce #mid fanfiction #aphmau fanfiction #there's also a sort of OC in this one #Which is really just a humanized version of Jingle from Hamtaro #because #a- childhood #and b- he was exactly the type of character I wanted for this fic #there's also a hint of dance man from Wandersong in him as well #please forgive me #I just live for vibing nomad characters #Thank you all for reading!

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hedjblogr · 3 years

Note

If you count your Clones as your own characters, what is their preferred day to wind down after a stressful day? What kind kind day is stressful for them? If you don't, the same questions but for your sylvari. - moonlit-grove

CRACKS MY KNUCKLES this is gonna get long i am doing ALL my clones i made in GW2 not just my GW2 character ones

so in birthday order:

oh god ahah sometimes i forget i have a character called Armored Temmie. they are VERY stress when they cannot pet hoomin......... petting hoomin.... reliev STRESS!!!!! (in seriousness, being a temmie is very hard when you work at an interdimensional café and your boss is having you deliver donuts to scarlet briar in an attempt to divert the course of history. helping people out outside of work helps them wind down immensely)

Steben Uwuninu is just a lil boy! he’s a lil mans! (he’s a pre-Lapis Steven Universe AU i RP with a buddy, some tragedy in his backstory but he has the best family) sometimes he gets stressed when there’s a problem he can’t solve, and likes to unwind with video games, making music and exploring!

Tesco Value Eir (my first GW2 character clone!) is stressed out by the burden of her legend even if it’s not technically hers and likes to unwind through some lower-stakes hunting, or by doing some ice carving. and petting her many, many dogs, all of which are called garm. :thonk:

oh hey we’re getting into the Legacy of Kain clones now (the next 3)

Scion Kain gets stressed out when Raziel is getting himself into trouble (this happens often) and when things stop going to plan (this happens more often than he’d care to admit). he de-stresses by being a pain in everyone’s ass, reading and discussing ancient cultures and philosophy, going on rampages, and spending quality time with Raziel (which often just means being his personal pain in the ass)

Priestess Umah is just stressed all the time because the weight of vampirekind rests on the shoulders of a TOTAL ASSHOLE,,, but she unwinds through gentler exercise (soft martial arts type stuff), meditation and a bit of light reading. despite being fucking stacked and fighty as hell she prefers mental pursuits

Dionisie Audron is a weird one bc he’s both a clone and an OC for reasons i can’t go into 🤫 but i’ll talk specifically about the clone side of things. he finds it very stressful when people are not taking their jobs seriously and being thoughtless... and he finds massages, reading, and meditation very relaxing. also baths! he loves baths. nice smelling bath with some candles and incense and the stress just melts away

Goodwill Trahearne is my trahearne clone and while i don’t have a ton of stuff down for him, the most stressful days for him are the ones where it’s made clear just how much is expected of him - when the day’s work is through he likes to settle down with a good book, maybe pet a sylvan hound, and fall asleep in his chair because he stays up way too late and forgets to sleep until his body forces him to

Discount Canach is my canach clone, who i do have very solid answers for. his biggest stressors are when he can’t control a situation, when it’s completely out of his hands - for example, when a certain IDIOT TRIBUNE decides to RUN IN SWORDS BLAZING and NOT STOP AND THINK OF A PLAN. and he also gets stressed out when a planned controlled situation falls apart despite his careful planning. this can be something as big as a mission or as small as a half hour delay getting something/someplace on his worst days. he can be very high strung at times; the worst part is he’s very conscious of this

if he gets a chance to unwind after a day that’s just completely fell apart, one way he blows off steam is through snark actually! mutual snark is the best. it’s like a gentle venting of pressure. this man’s a damn pressure cooker, if you take the lid off too fast he’ll blow. gotta let him vent gently and slowly. he’d never admit it aloud to many but he also likes bathing, even if that means having water dunked on his head/ (people like doing this to him for some reason. something something watering their cactus.) he hates it less than he lets on. physically cooling down cools him down mentally too!

wew sorry that one got massively long but listen i have a lot of thoughts and feelings about canach specifically

OKAY next clone is Rythunk Brimstud who’s a rytlock clone... ish. i’m still playing with this idea rn but i actually had the idea that he might be one of rytlock’s younger cubs in an au where rytlock dies for some reason?? and he ends up invoking him as a spirit through the mists. and gradually uh. letting his late dad take over his body so he can continue his work because he feels like the world needs rytlock more than they need rytlock’s cub. 😥 (rytlock isn't actually super happy with this!! he's kind of pissed!! it's a constant struggle)

but yeah uh rythunk finds that whole living up to expectations thing stressful. he’s charr, and in the thick of it, and having to be both himself and his dad. every day is stress. he likes playing guitar to destress, and he’s actually pretty good at it! so a day where he can get a lot of guitar practice in is good, maybe just find a nice cliff and jam out to no one in particular

next on my clone list is Could Be Caithe... any instance where she's expected to work with others is stressful even if she's trying harder now, trust is a two way street and she's painfully aware she has not earned everyone's trust back yet and may never. and relying on others is hard.

but, if she gets to spend time exploring with no stakes, or listening to music, or any time spent with aurene - that's something very relaxing and relieving to her

Maybe Malomedies is my next clone - and to elaborate, he's somewhat divergent because he was blighted by Trahearne as a result of dying due to a series of very unfortunate events :> which is why his colours are off the shits and he looks quite different from his canon counterpart

his interests are much the same though! he loves stargazing, talking to others about the machinations of fate and the different constellations he's discovered and what they mean - in his own culture and other cultures! and different constellations other people have discovered too!

forgiving as he is, anything that brushes too close to his past trauma still causes stress. he can't set foot near inquest anything, and it's good to have patience with him if he's near or in any asuran settlements. it's gonna be a bad day if he has to deal with anything like that, or anything related to the branded for that matter. certain visions can also just set him off to a really bad start as well; he's had a habit of seeing deaths lately. :-)

and my last real clone, Precocious Aurene. she's actually a sylvari avatar for Aurene to explore relatively incognito and spend time with her family without causing a stir! and to just kind of... be a kid.

while in this avatar, it's stressful if people start getting hints of who she is or guessing - because the last thing she wants is for it to get out that she's doing this at all. and if the All is particularly loud, or an area is particularly intense with magic, it can become a little overwhelming for her

however part of the beauty of this disguise is it IS her stress relief - she doesn't have to be an Elder Dragon. she can just be... herself. she can just be a kid. she can experience the world like everyone else does, and anything she can do is wonderful

ooookay i think that's everyone! 8)

#hedj talks guild wars #needed this ask because i woke up miserable today wheeeee #Anonymous #i don't know if i 100% properly interpreted this question but have this tasty lore anyway

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floof-reppu · 4 years

Text

Seven Minutes in Heaven

Yet another BNHArem server collab

Want to read another one? Click Here!

Fuyumi Todoroki x Fem!Reader

WARNING: SMUT AHEAD

Word Count: 3.9k

A/N: I’m just gonna say this now... I’m setting a new standard. There’s legit no such thing as Fuyumi Todoroki x Reader smut on Tumblr until today. Honestly, I was half surprised and half not surprised. There was BARELY anything on her in the first place. I wish she would get the love she deserves, especially after everything she went through. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this!

And with shaky hands, you slowly started to open the box.

There was quite a bit of volume to it, but inside was… something you didn’t expect to find in such a ludicrous manner. A lesson planner with the printed name of a local elementary school written on the front peeked out at you, and you lifted it out. You saw there was a keycard with a note attached to the bottom, which read the following:

‘This seems like a very personal yet informal way to extend my greetings, but I’m sure you’ll be surprised at who’s on the other end. The address should be written on the first page, and the keycard should let you inside of the front entrance. The rest of the planner is left blank (for interpretation, of course)! I can’t wait to meet you tonight.’

Well, if that didn’t spell anonymity, you didn’t know what did. Opening up said planner to the first page, the address of the elementary school was written, no name attached to the front. A room number and the instructions of knock once, then twice was towards the bottom of the page, and you couldn’t help but wonder… were you really going to be having a one-night stand in such a public place? Wouldn’t you get caught?

There was only one way to find out.

Oh god, you were really doing it.

The keycard beeped against the electronic lock on the door, green light flashing to signal that it had worked. It was almost as if the door was ready to open on its own with how little effort it took to pull it open. Holding the note in your hand, you used it to navigate your way through the school building and reached the room with the number etched on a plaque to the side. Knock once, then twice.

That’s exactly what you did, rapping your knuckles against the wood of the door once, waiting a few seconds, then did it twice more. You could hear the distinct sound of footsteps through the paper thin walls of the classroom, though you dare not speak.

“You can come in.” The voice was feminine, sophisticated, soft… did you know anyone with such a voice? Sliding the door turned out to be a pain, but once you finally opened it, a pair of intelligent turquoise eyes met yours, blinking once, then twice. It was obvious she was just as nervous as you were, having paced around the room countless times. A pair of red-framed glasses sat atop the bridge of her nose, white hair with flecks of crimson framing her face.

You knew she looked familiar, but you just couldn’t think of who she was; or rather, who she was related to.

“I’m relieved you didn’t decide to ditch,” The woman let out a sigh of relief before folding her hands in front of her body, “but that’s enough complaining out of me. I know this is supposed to be anonymous, but it doesn’t feel right to… get so intimate with someone without introducing myself. I’m Fuyumi Todoroki, and if you hadn’t guessed by the item, I teach at this elementary school in this classroom specifically.”

Todoroki. That’s it. She is the daughter of Endeavor, elder sister of Shoto- how didn’t you realize that sooner?

“Yeah, I… figured that much. I’m Y/N.” You responded, hand going up to rub the back of your neck. A few awkward seconds passed before your voice rang yet again. “I didn’t expect to be matched with such an intelligent, let alone beautiful woman such as yourself, Fuyumi.”

“I could say the same, Y/N.” She giggled, taking a seat on top of one of the desks. “Please take a seat. I insist.”

There wasn’t a reason that you could think of to not comply, so you walked over and sat down in a desk across from her own. The wall clock ticked by seconds as you thought of what to say, what to ask her, such as how exactly were the two of you going to be intimate in such a public place? It was practically sacreligious to commit such an act, inside an elementary school no less. But… you couldn’t shake off the feeling of being sexually attracted to Fuyumi Todoroki, and committing such a sin in her own classroom, no less. It almost felt like it was meant to be.

“So how are we going to do this?" Looking around the room, you couldn't see a flat, solid space in sight that could be used as a makeshift bed. Fuyumi scrunched her nose momentarily, thinking hard.

"I have an idea that hopefully you'll like, but it's something that just came to mind. We can move the desks into the middle and make a flat surface elevated from the ground while also removing the chairs from the picture. We can stack them against the wall." She got off of the desk, getting on the other side and pushing it towards the one you happened to be perched on. Getting up and helping made it much easier to get the job done, and soon you had a decently sized makeshift bed.

It wasn't much, but you would have to make do with what you had at your disposal. The desks were metal, but hopefully they wouldn't be too cold for either of you, since you would both be completely naked on top of them. Fuyumi hummed contently as she looked at the creation the two of you made on a whim.

"This is the best we can do as far as a flat surface. But anyways…" Her bag was sitting behind the podium, and she went back to grab a few items. You could have sworn you heard the sound of rope against fabric, but it could have also been your imagination; not that you wanted it any other way, of course! But what did it mean? When she came back in view, she held the rope, a blindfold, as well as a vibrator. "I brought a few things with me to hopefully enhance our experience, so I hope you don't mind."

"I… of course I don't mind." Your face flushed, both embarrassed and turned on at the thought of being tied up with a blindfold around your eyes in front of an almost-complete stranger. Fuyumi placed the items on a chair she kept nearby, and before you knew it, you had the small of your back pressed against the desks, a hand trailing up and down your inner thigh.

"I'm glad you don't mind. I may not look like it, but I'm surprisingly assertive in bed, Y/N." She whispered in your ear, almost like a seductress. You were completely vulnerable to the woman in front of you, your legs wanting to buckle out of anxiety, but you came here for the sole reason to fuck, not to be a pussy and walk away from such an opportunity.

Before you knew it, she moved her head back and captured your lips in a passionate kiss, one hand caressing your cheek while the other continued to trail circles along your thigh. Her lips were soft for the most part, but a few chunks of dry skin could be felt as a full on make out session began to ensue. Chest pressed against chest, you could feel Fuyumi’s hardened nipples press against your own. You wanted so badly to take off her clothes right then and there, but there was a commanding, demanding aura about her that you couldn't just get around.

Her tongue slipped inside of your mouth without consent, and you almost had to blink twice; she didn’t look like the type of woman who would be so assertive and forward with her romantic advances. If that wasn’t enough to convince you, the hand that was previously caressing your cheek had gone down to grope your breast. You let out a soft moan as she needed your clothed flesh, separating your lips from hers only to breathe.

“Were you that surprised, Y/N? Or did you just need to catch your breath after that breathtaking experience?” You couldn’t get out a word just yet, so you resorted to nodding vigorously as Fuyumi removed her hands from your body, walking backwards and thinking for a moment. “I want you to get up on the desks and start stripping. One article at a time.”

There was no way you could just disobey Fuyumi, especially since if you did… you didn’t know what might happen. Hopping up onto the desks behind you, your partner for the night eyed your body up and down, making mental notes of where you might be the most sensitive. Her finger pointed to your shirt, more specifically your chest.

“Strip. Top to bottom. Now, please.”

Hands on the hem of your shirt, you pulled up, revealing your stomach first, then your covered breasts. You discarded it to the side, but you couldn’t help but feel so vulnerable in front of Fuyumi. This wasn’t the first time you would be getting intimate with another person, but there was just something about her that made you feel exposed, embarrassed to even show her your form. Feeling the tension in the room, her expression softened for just a moment.

“You don’t have to be nervous. Just think of it as a brand new experience. My students always seem to be anxious over one thing or another, but I don’t think that anxiety belongs in the bedroom… or rather, the makeshift bedroom in my classroom. In fact, I think you’re very beautiful, Y/N.” She smiled, eyes closed contently, her hands going back to folding in front of her. “Now then, can we please continue?” “I, um… yeah.” You managed to mumble out a few words as you reached behind your body, unhooking your bra and exposing your breasts to the open air of the room. There wasn’t a completely definite blush on Fuyumi’s face, but you knew that she was attracted to your breasts, eyes never leaving your chest. “Do you still think that-”

“Y/N.” Fuyumi scowled, taking off her glasses and setting them on the podium behind her before walking up to you. “What did we just discuss about letting anxiety control your behavior and emotions? Actually… I don’t think I should let you talk at all.”

Eyes wide, you looked at Fuyumi. What exactly did she mean? You had not the slightest clue until she went over to the chair with the toys, pulling apart the blindfolds and going back over to you.

She was going to gag you?!

“Trust me, it’s going to enhance your experience tenfold.” Without a second thought or time to process what was going on, you were pushed up onto the desks with minimum effort on her part, a smile from ear-to-ear plastered on Fuyumi’s face as she climbed over top of you. Gently, she maneuvered the cloth into your mouth and tied it behind your head tight enough for it to stay in place, but loose enough so that you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Her hands moved down to unbutton your pants, zipping downwards and pulling them off. She discarded them in the same place that you threw your shirt, leaving you in just your panties, already soaked from just how mysteriously turned on you were. “I’m so glad we get to have this experience together, aren’t you?”

You nodded, afraid that if you didn’t that there might be repercussions to your actions.

Sliding off the desks, she made sure to keep an eye on you as she started to strip herself, letting all of her clothes fall to the ground in a fell swoop. It would take much too long for her to tease you, so instead she decided that was the best course of action. She went over to grab the rope and the blindfold first, pulling you back to her gently and taking your wrists in her hands. The rope was used to bind them together above your head, making sure that you wouldn’t be able to grab anything. The blindfold was put on soon afterwards, covering your eyes so that you couldn’t see.

This was sensory deprivation at its finest. The only thing you could possibly do now is hear out of your ears and smell... something.

You could hear the desks slide against the floor.

You could feel the bare body of Fuyumi, her breasts pushing against your own. They were soft, warm… but yet you couldn't touch them, causing you to let out a muffled, disappointed grunt. A slap to your ass made you jump in surprise, but you weren’t able to do anything about it. Instead of paying more attention to your obvious frustration, her thumb started rubbing against your clit. The veil of darkness clouding your vision mixed together with the stimulation helped to fuel your desire for more, but it was hard to keep your mouth shut.

“You’re getting a bit squirmy, Y/N. If you don’t calm down a little, I might just have to bind your legs, too. I don’t want to have to do that.” One of her fingers slipped inside of your entrance, causing your hips to move into her touch. “Be good and I might take off the blindfold so you can watch.”

The prospect of getting to see Fuyumi’s naked body excited you to no end, so you nodded. A second finger dipped into your folds, a moan muffled by the cloth sounding at the back of your throat. Slowly, she started to move them in and out of you, your juices from earlier helping to lubricate your walls and make it easier for her to pleasure you. If anything, you thought that you were going to be the one pleasuring her, but in this instance, you were completely and utterly at her mercy. She had you right where she wanted you.

Completely.

Already you could feel your core tightening up, wanting so badly to release, to see the look on her face as she watched you crumble. Her pace continued to grow faster as she noticed your walls closing in on fingers.

“You’re unraveling right before my eyes. You look so lovely like this, Y/N.” Her voice echoed throughout your mind, and right before you were ready to let yourself go…

...she took her fingers out of you, sticking them in her mouth without you even knowing and leaving you wanting more. An overwhelming urge to try and break the rope binding you filled you, but you knew that wouldn’t help or solve anything. Instead, trying to wait and see what Fuyumi would do was the best option. The vibrator that was previously sitting on the edge of the desks clanged against the metal, and the quiet hum sounded throughout the room.

“I apologize for that, but I wanted to make sure you were ready enough to take in the vibrator…” She pressed it against your clit, and it took all of your willpower to not cum right on the spot. “I know how much you want to release, but I’m asking you not to. If you cum prematurely, I won’t hesitate to leave.” She forewarned, her free hand trailing up to grab your breast.

“If you understand, nod.”

You did as she said, nodding your head while still trying to keep a level head since the vibrator was still against your womanhood.

“I’m feeling a bit generous, so I’ll take the blindfold off for this part.” Her fingers brushed up into your hair, untying the top piece of cloth and removing it. You… took in the sight of her, or rather as much as you could. She was the perfect image of an average woman, having no defining muscles, yet looking perfectly fit in your eyes. This was the daughter of the top pro hero, being nothing more than a teacher, yet having the body of a goddess.

You could get used to this.

“You’re staring a little… are you feeling alright? Or perhaps the sight of my naked form caught you off guard?” For once she looked at you inquisitively, brows raised and arm moving back to pull the vibrator away from you. That same expression turned into a grin as soon as she got the memo, your eyes averting from her gaze. “Oh, I see. I’m flattered you like my appearance, Y/N. I might just have to consider this being more than just a one night stand.”

There was no way she was being serious. After all, you were more than sure there were other men and women interested in a beauty like herself. The comment was brushed off as nothing as she surprised even herself, inserting the tip of the now turned off vibrator inside of you. Dear god, the feeling in and of itself was amazing, even without the vibration. It was an amazing distraction from prior thoughts, as you were now focused on trying to achieve your own bliss.

The rest of the contraption was inserted soon after, and you found yourself trying to ride it on your own. It was no use, Fuyumi turning on the vibration setting yet again and causing you to shiver. She was teasing you, in turn causing her pleasure as well. What you didn’t expect was for her left hand to tug the gag out of your mouth.

“Fuyumi, what are you-”

“I think it’s time for you to put your mouth to good use. You have to warm it up somehow, right? I want you to eat me out and suck up every last drop of my juices.” She switched her hand on the vibrator so she could get a leg over your body, sliding back so that her folds were pressed against your lips. “Again, cum before I do and I’ll get up and leave… I can just finish myself off somewhere else.”

Even without tasting her directly, Fuyumi’s scent was sweet, juices coating your lips almost like lipgloss. Your tongue swirled around her folds, getting a sample of what you were going to be expecting. Sweet, but not too sweet. That was definitely something you could get onto. Lowering all the way onto your face, you started to dive in as below, she was working her magic on you with the vibrator. It definitely made it hard to concentrate, as all you wanted to do was cum and let the tension out of your body.

Finally, a moan elicted from her, almost as delectable as the juices that practically brought your mouth to life. She didn’t sound husky, but her moan wasn’t of a high pitch, being a perfect medium. This drove you to push your head upwards, tongue darting in and out of her slick entrance and occasionally your mouth would suck and bite on her clit. Your own moans acted like a vibrator themselves, giving Fuyumi more pleasure than she had anticipated from just a mouth alone.

“T-That’s it, Y/N, keep going. Don’t stop now.” She managed to get out, sliding her hips back and forth to get a new feeling of pleasure. “Keep it up, and I might just cum sooner than I expected.”

This was the final stretch. You had to hurry, or else you would end up releasing prematurely. The only sounds that could be heard in the room now were the sounds of the vibrator pounding into your flesh, the sounds of the desks wobbling, and the moans that spewed out of both you and Fuyumi. There was one particular spot that you ran over with your tongue even if it wasn’t very deep, causing her immense pleasure and her walls to clench. The vibration setting was on max by this point, your walls spasming and copying the same notion.

“Y/N… cum for me!”

There was no time to think about whether or not to stop yourself. Your back arched up off the metal of the desks, complete and utter bliss taking over your body as Fuyumi released at the same time. If anyone else was in the school by sheer coincidence, you hoped to god that they couldn’t hear the two of you. Waves of sheer pleasure overwhelmed you, and after it was all said and done, the attractive woman sitting on your face waited for you to, like she said, taste every last drop of her before hopping off of you and removing the vibrator. Your juices flowed out like a stream, and she took a finger to scoop some out and have a taste.

“You’re a mixture of sweet and salty. Not bad.” She went back over to the podium to grab her glasses and put them on, being able to see clearly again. “If I had gone longer without my glasses, I’m sure I would’ve had a massive headache.”

You sat up, but there was still the problem of your wrists being tied together.

“Uh… you don’t think you could untie me, could you?” Fuyumi’s eyes lit up when she remembered, grabbing the loose ends and releasing you. “Thank you… I almost thought I was going to stay in that forever.”

“Not forever, just until someone else noticed. I’m really sorry about almost forgetting, though! I’m glad you thought to mention that.” She went over to a small desk in the corner, grabbing a box of tissues and cleaning the excess mess that was on not only your womanhood, but the desks as well. “This is just a temporary fix. I can clean the tops of the desks after I rearrange them.”

“You think you’re going to do that alone? I was the one who made most of the mess, at least let me help you.” You got off the desks and put your clothes back on as quickly as you could, Fuyumi following suit. When the two of you were finished getting dressed, she giggled softly, causing you to tilt your head to the side in confusion.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. It’s just… I’m surprised you wouldn’t want to go ahead and leave.” She walked over to the window, looking outside at the night sky. “This was just supposed to be a one night stand, after all… but what I said earlier was the honest truth. I’d like to get to know you better as a person, not just someone to have sex with, Y/N. I’m sure you have just as beautiful of a personality as a body.”

“Hey, that’s my line!” You retorted in a half-joking manner, smiling. “But… I do agree with you. You’re such an interesting and fun person, and I could tell that from our sexual experience, Fuyumi Todoroki.”

“Am I, really? Did the ‘taking charge’ fiasco get to your head?” Looking back at you, she smiled, the moonlight highlighting her face and making for quite the dreamlike scenario. “I never gave you a proper kiss, did I? I was just letting my instincts take-”

You didn’t think. You just did it. You closed the small gap between the two of you and pulled Fuyumi into a tender, chaste kiss. Arms wrapped around her to pull her closer, she wrapped her own around your neck. It was almost like a fantasy, something that only happened in fairytales.

To you, this was truly the start of something special.

#mha x reader #fuyumi todoroki #fuyumi todoroki x reader #fuyumi x reader #fuyumi smut #todoroki fuyumi #todoroki fuyumi x reader #bnha fic #server collab #todoroki fuyumi x fem reader #fuyumi x fem reader

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antagonistchan · 3 years

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so, some basics on my Magical Girl story

in addition to being a Magical Girl story, it’s also. kinda an Isekai. but a kinda weird Isekai (i mean, Isekais aren’t usually also Magical Girl stories).

basically: one day, the entire population of Earth is transported into another reality. this reality’s kinda a sci-fi/fantasy deal. and when i say “sci-fi/fantasy”, i don’t just mean “really soft sci-fi with a spiritual edge” like Star Wars, i mean straight up “there are Elves and Dwarves and Orks and magic but also it’s in space and there’s hyper-advanced technology”.

anyways, there are also dragons. or at least, there were dragons. the dragons went extinct a long time ago. but also, they were really weird dragons. as in, the dragons in this setting were basically elder gods, just in dragon form. yeah, they were giant winged reptiles... but they were also a much higher form of existence that could comprehend so many more dimensions of reality than we can and warped reality just by their mere presence. and see, while the dragons are extinct.... death doesn’t really mean much to something on that level of existence. they’re all still aware, and all still have some level of ability to affect their surroundings. but the vast majority are content to just lie in their graves and not bother with the rest of the world.

but some aren’t.

one of the really notable ones is known as Skull. Skull might be dead, but he wants to continue living his life. and even in life, Skull was one of the more noble dragons, one of the dragons most willing to defend the “lesser” races like humans and elves and orks.

Skull is... also one of the more macabre parts of this story. he’s not particularly dark, just macabre, but come on, he’s basically a zombie elder god. he’s macabre by default.

anyways, his body, even as just a skeleton, still has lots of power. so he used that power to construct a starship around it. this starship is still vaguely dragon-shaped, and he has full control over it, so it’s kinda like just being a robot dragon. except now he’s kinda frozen solid and people can go inside him (and he’s really big, it’s practically like a city in there). but that’s just most of his body. he did set aside a few of his bones for another purpose.

the Magical Girls. we’re finally getting to that part.

he split up those bones into a bunch of small (like, about the size of a marble) pieces, and then built devices around and powered by them called Magites.

the normal inhabitants of this reality couldn’t really use them, so initially, he made a group of six genetically engineered people specifically designed to use the Magites. and they were.... kinda a success. but not quite. but he was also aware of the existence of other realities, and realized that our reality was A: perfect for his plans, as most of us were compatible with the Magites, and B: on the brink of collapse anyways. so he rescued the entire population of Earth.

and then, whenever an Earthling proved worthy, they’d receive a Magite.

and Magites are just Magical Girl transformation devices. like Intelligent Devices from Nanoha, or Relics from Symphogear, or the Moon Pen or whatever it’s called from Sailor Moon. their purpose is to transform the user into a state where they can draw from Skull’s power. and this state happens to wear frilly dresses.

our main cast is a group of five girls (initially just three) who are particularly close to Skull. like, Skull kinda considers them his personal strike force. the initial three are:

Stella Greenfield, who came to Skull’s attention before even becoming a Magical Girl for her keen analytical mind and the rapid pace at which she learned about this reality’s robotics tech (like, she’d only been here for a month before she was able to program a fully conscious and emotional AI, Eve, who she considers her assistant and daughter). she’s actually the last of the five (not even of the three, of all five) to become a Magical Girl, supporting the team from the sidelines at first with her robots and tactical advice. when she does become a Magical Girl, she uses strong gauntlets to punch good and special gear that lets her deploy robots more easily.

Madison (no last name), who was actually one of those initial six lab-grown Magite users, also making her one of the few non-human Magical Girls (she’s an Elf instead). she was just kinda pushed onto the group, and was initially the only actual Magical Girl of them, so the group was initially just kinda “Madison and her handlers”. she’s timid and skittish, but in a pinch she’s fiercely protective of anyone she considers family or anyone she sees as weaker than her. in Magical Girl form, she uses guns (particularly a sniper rifle) and stealth (particularly the ability to turn straight-up invisible).

Kyouko Tenjou, who initially just kinda tagged along with Stella out of coincidence but then was the second one to become a Magical Girl. she’s harsh and abrasive, and ultimately has serious self-confidence issues stemming from her internalized transphobia (because she’s trans), but she has a heart of gold deep down and she generally tries to be a good role model for Madison in particular. she’s also Stella’s love interest. as a Magical Girl, she uses swords and psychic powers. stuff like telepathy, limited precognition, pyrokinesis...

and then after a few adventures of Stella supporting Madison and later Kyouko from the sidelines, she actually gets separated from them for a period of time, during which she meets the remaining two, who aren’t initially Magical Girls but do become them soon enough, and the three agree to stick together for the time while they try to get back to society. these two are:

Venus Bhatia, a violent and boisterous delinquent who’s ultimately actually second only to Madison in terms of friendliness. sure she’s violent, but if you haven’t offended her, she’ll be friendly (though her brand of friendliness is a bit intense to some people). she’s also a bit theatrical. when she transform, her whole vibe changes. her personality stays exactly the same, sure, but it fits both vibes, and her appearance changing is what brings about the change in vibes. in Magical Girl form, she comes off as more of a Female Prince-type like Kaoru Seta. also, she uses explosives. it’s very weird and specific compared to fists, swords, and guns, but it’s still got a practical offensive use. which is why it’s good that she was the first of the two to become a Magical Girl, because the second is...

Luna Flowers, a smug memelord and actual trained doctor who’s also got a slightly-hidden bitter and misanthropic side. and by slightly-hidden, i mean she tries to keep it under wraps and is generally just the smug memelord, but it really doesn’t take much poking to break down those walls and get her to express her true feelings. she’s also an amputee; as a kid, she got into a horrible car accident and her right arm had to be amputated at the shoulder. so, she has a robotic right arm. and as a trained doctor? it’s fitting that in Magical Girl form, she’s the team healer. in her Magical Girl form, the main event is her robot arm, which suddenly has a bunch of support tech built into it. healing rays, buffing rays, diagnostic equipment, and even a forcefield generator.

anyways, after palling around with Venus and Luna for a bit and the two of them become Magical Girls, Stella is reunited with Kyouko and Madison, and Venus and Luna decide to stick around. and after that, Stella finally becomes a Magical Girl herself.

#antagonist originals #oc posting

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stillness-in-green · 4 years

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MLAWeek Coda: The Lore Post

Sorry this is a few days late! To the surprise of absolutely no one who has read some of my longer meta posts, I just don’t know how to shut the F up. (Spoilers: this post is only a few hundred words away from being as long as everything else I wrote for the week put together.)

Anyway, hit the jump for, in order:

A quick breakdown of the Liberation Army’s general structure.

A list of members, broken down by broad generation, including the ones we have gotten explicitly IDed in canon, the ones I based on figures we see in canon, and the ones I completely made up.

The basic tenets of the MLA and some discussion about their views on quirk supremacy. (feat. fandom salt)

An overview of the way the Advent shook up the political landscape in Japan and the Hearts & Minds Party’s place in that landscape. Pretty much the same material Trumpet’s victory speech from Day 4 covers, but modestly more in-depth, removed from the need to play well to a crowd, and with some added explanation about the structure of the Diet for readers who are less familiar with it than Trumpet’s audience would be.

A timeline (with only moderately arbitrary dates!) covering the birth of the glowing baby up to the first year of the manga. Mostly concerned with detailing the events the MLA would care about, but with a few other points of reference to contextualize things for the rest of us.

Bonus Fun Facts: discussion of the considerations that went into the timeline, a look at All For One’s actions re: the MLA, and some miscellaneous blurbs on terminology, worldbuilding and characterization.

A smattering of asides in the form of footnotes.

Note that while this material is based in and accurate to canon as much as I could remember at the time that I was doing my notes on my fills for the week, there’s a lot in here that is based entirely on supposition, interpretation and, at times, just plain-old guessing.

Thanks to @codenamesazanka and @robotlesbianjavert for their assistance in naming, brainstorming, and just generally putting up with me while the Liberation Army was completely devouring my attention.

@red-the-omnic Somewhat belatedly, here’s that list of MLA members you asked for back during the middle of the week. Sorry to make you wait so long!

Enjoy!

———– ———– ———– ———–

ORGANIZATION

Grand Commander: Destro and Destro’s line of descendants.

The First Families: Those who fought at Destro’s side and escaped to continue the fight, and their descendants. Veritably all high-ranked within the MLA, their tie to the original incarnation of the Army marks them as elites, whether or not their quirks would do so otherwise. The elders of the First Families do a certain amount of collective decision-making when and if the Grand Commander is unable to do so and has left orders otherwise.

Sanctum: “Sanctum” is a special position in the Army. The name denotes the person who’s tasked with remembering the MLA’s history, practices and lore—the position is considered contiguous, so even when someone is new to the name, they’re still considered “the longest-serving member of the Liberation Army.”. When they’re getting on in years, they select an appropriate protégé, to whom the name will pass upon their death/capture. The name must always go to a member of the First Families (though in truth, they’re only on their third one, so it’s more of a pattern so far than a hard rule).

Commanders & Lieutenants: People in charge of major operations, liberated districts, etc. Frequently, though not always, members of the First Families. Have discretion over their own assignments, but may not have much influence in the Army’s operations on the whole, depending on who they’re connected to otherwise.

Advisors: This title denotes those who are specifically tapped to give advice and aid to the MLA leadership. Levels of authority vary depending on who they’re advising. Advisors of lieutenants, if any, are a step above the rank and file, advisors of commanders are about on par with lieutenants, and advisors to the Grand Commander are considered commanders in their own right, regardless of any other rank they may hold.

Rank and File: Pretty much everyone else.

———–

KNOWN MEMBERS [1]

The original MLA—

Destro: Yotsubashi Chikara. Established the Meta Liberation Army in his mid-30s in response to the development of what he felt were overly restrictive laws on the usage of meta-abilities. Having observed evidence that meta-abilities grew stronger generationally, he was particularly concerned that no oppressive laws could be enforced by the generation that established them because the next generation would always be more powerful. Thus, he believed that establishing the use of meta-abilities as a fundamental right was the only way for society to avoid indefinite intergenerational strife. He was particularly incensed by the government co-opting the message that got his mother murdered to put a pretty, self-congratulatory sheen on laws that did the exact opposite of what she wished for. Allegedly committed suicide after some months in prison. The MLA is highly suspicious of this claim—they’re correct to be, but not for the reasons they think. His quirk, which his entire line would inherit, turns a key emotion into enhanced strength and resilience in the form of a characteristic ink-blot marking. While it would develop over time, the basic nature of the quirk remained the same. Chikara’s driving emotion was resolve.

Fathom: Destro’s lover, she dedicated a decade of her life after his capture to building up the survivors he’d left behind. It’s said her son got his drive from Destro, but his anger from Fathom. Had a large hand in raising her son to be the sort of man he was, particularly in her decision to commit what many considered to be suicide-by-hero when he was in his teens. A large part of that choice was wrapped up in her never-fully-assuaged grief over Destro’s loss (and, she believed to the end, his murder), but there was also a cold calculation to it—her making a big show of it would lead the police to believe that her attack was the last gasp of the Liberation Army, ending their investigations into MLA activities. It would also stoke the fires of her son’s rage, honing him into a stronger weapon against their enemies. Her judgement in both cases proved broadly on-point, though her death did serve to make her son more cautious than she might have hoped. Meta-Ability: Antennae. A pair of insectile feelers emerging from her forehead that give her a passel of sensory boosts, particularly in the taste and smell categories, and which also make her able to detect shifts in the air from quite some distance.)

Cascade: A man whose meta-ability lets him turn body parts into loosely controllable masses of water. Can’t transform fully. A quick-thinking type able to make hard calls.

Sweeper: A woman with a radio-scanning quirk. Caught by police in the same fight as Destro.

Sanctum I: The first bearer of the codename. Had a protective ability of some sort.

Sanctum II’s father: The same quirk as his daughter; see below. Known for getting some eight people safely out of a police raid by carrying them all out at once despite not actually having superhuman strength of any kind. (Probably tore several muscles in the process, but adrenaline is a hell of a thing.)

The Second Generation—

Destro’s son: Raised to deeply resent heroes and the government that put them in place, but he was also very cautious of them. He was profoundly aware that his death would mean the end of the dream that his father had begun and his mother had cultivated, so he was very meticulous in spreading the MLA’s influence underground, rebuilding their numbers before he even began to consider starting to make attacks again. Destro’s army had been a guerilla force; his son’s would be something much more dangerous. His driving emotion was anger, and he had two children before being killed by a cerebral aneurysm at 43. Was able to use his power to make his body larger.

Sanctum II: A woman with an unusual fondness for the traditional Japanese arts, particularly tea ceremony. Meta-ability: Stride. Teleport to any location she can directly see by taking a single step forward. Can take whoever she can carry under her own power. (First Families lineage)

Anchor: An advisor to Destro’s son. Prominent bull horns. Meta-ability: Immobilize. Similar to Lock Rock’s Lockdown quirk, except it only works on his own body. Very good at wrestling holds (and holding his breath), he tends to fight with backup that can deliver finishing blows to opponents once he has them pinned down. (First Families lineage)

The Third Generation—

Yotsubashi Kyouyuki: The elder child of Destro’s son. Deemed an unsuitable Grand Commander for his driving emotion of joy. Always presented a façade of being cheerful and upbeat, but the ever-present rhetoric that the MLA pushes about the ongoing suppression of quirks and the misery and injustice it leads to left Kyou always struggling with guilt. In college, it finally got so bad that he resolved to run away, enlisting the help of a friend with a swap-based teleport quirk to get him out of a party undetected. His fate thereafter is a secret that’s been taken to the grave by the MLA members involved in it, but given the typical reactions of illegal underground cults to members wanting to leave, it’s unlikely that he’s living somewhere in happy anonymity. (Name means Unyielding Happiness, following in his grandfather and nephew's patterns of having characters in their names meaning power/strength.)

Yotsubashi Yukie: The younger child of Destro’s son, and Rikiya’s mother. With a driving emotion of sorrow, and having been steadily losing family her entire life, Yukie wrestled with depression for most of her life. The presumptive heir to the title of Re-Destro, she spent considerably more time in training than her older brother, but she never much had the temperament for it. When her father died only a few scant years after Kyouyuki’s disappearance, she expressed her fears that she was incapable of being the leader the Army needed. This led to her becoming a mother at a relatively young age, continuing the bloodline rather than picking up the banner. For all her struggles with her grief, Yukie was very determined to at least be there for the son on whom the weight of leadership would fall. The world of My Hero Academia is a dangerous one, however, particularly before All Might established himself as Japan’s pillar, and Yukie was a casualty of the chaos of a villain attack when Rikiya was ten. (Name means Glittering Conqueror, ditto the note above about the family pattern for name kanji.)

Rampart: Guardian and general caretaker for Rikiya in his younger years. Hand-picked for the role by Yukie, who had considered him a close friend since their school days. Meta-Ability: An earth manipulation power akin to Pixie-Bob’s, though less powerful. (First Families lineage)

Shinseigi: Trumpet’s uncle, unspecified code name. Also in politics, though of a more local variety. Meta-ability: His speaking voice makes listeners suggestible. (The phonetic pronunciation of his name sounds like “New Justice,” but the kanji are “Sleeping Voice Technique.”)

The Fourth Generation—

Yotsubashi Rikiya: The current Re-Destro (42); CEO and President of Detnerat. He took up the former title when he was only 6 years old. With the succession of losses that were his uncle, grandfather and mother, the MLA has been fairly careful with him, grooming him with care and rarely leaving him without some form of supervision, be it Rampart when he was young or Trumpet in college. An extremely dutiful child grown into an urbane man whose good humor disguises a morose—and occasionally volatile—inner character. Always under a lot of stress (his MRIs are clear so far, though, haha!), but there’s only so much effort dedicated to mitigating that, since stress is his key emotion. The first in the family line to be able to separate his power from his own body, in the form of his Stress Bomb attack.

Trumpet: Hanabata Koku (44). One of Rikiya’s advisors and party leader of the Hearts & Minds Party (see below); has known Rikiya since their preteen years. The Hanabatas were a political family of old, but largely saw those fortunes crash and burn when they started manifesting quirks a few generations into the Advent. They’ve been clawing their way back into politics ever since and were an early target for the MLA’s project to infiltrate and/or start their own political party. It was decided very early on that Koku’s quirk and his family connections made him a good choice to groom for leadership of the HMP, so he and Rikiya bonded over their similar positions. They would go on to attend the same university, during which time they became romantically involved. In truth, Koku’s university was functionally chosen for him on the basis of which one Rikiya would be attending; the First Families were not about to lose another Yotsubashi to college life. Koku is more aware of this particular fact than Rikiya. Still a little wistful about their college days, his opinions regarding Re-Destro’s big starstruck crush on Shigaraki are borderline unprintable.

Sanctum III: Twice’s No. 1 advisor, the dude with the big imperial handlebar moustache and what looks an awful lot like a dress uniform for the Japanese navy. A few years older than Trumpet. (First Families lineage)

Curious: Kizuki Chitose (36). RD advisor and Shoowaysha Publishing Executive Vice President.[2] From a relatively small liberated district up near Sendai; the MLA connections plus her own profound ambition got her moving very quickly up the MLA chain of command. Daughter of a wlw couple; got her blue skin from her bio mom. One younger sibling, a sister. Masterminded the dinners we see the group having in Chapter 218, originally to make sure Rikiya was getting at least one well-apportioned meal a week and a chance to socialize with the closest thing he has to peers, but also because it proved to be an invaluable opportunity to swap information and rumors.

Skeptic: Chikazoku Tomoyasu (31). RD advisor and Feel Good Inc. board member. On the bottom end of the generation age-wise, a prodigy in every sense save his broadly terrible people skills. Recognizes Rikiya’s stress tells because he shares several of them himself, and is also the only person of Rikiya’s generation with the confidence to verbally push him around a bit. It’s regarded as borderline scandalous by their elders, but Rikiya himself finds it bracing, and anyway, Skeptic’s ability to organize a schedule for maximum efficiency is nothing less than miraculous. Got Rikiya onto fidget toys.

Toryu: Toryu is the family name of Galvanize (aka Taser Face aka Kaminari’s Dad). Mr. Compress’s No. 1, the dude who strolls out onto the lawn after Cementoss rips the hotel a new one and immediately gets his smarm repackaged and returned to sender by Kaminari and Edgeshot. Great for morale before that, though! In Rikiya’s age group, his mother’s side of the family (from which he gets the electricity powers) has been in the Army for at least as far back as her school days. (The name comes from the characters for leaping/rising and current/flow.)

Slidin’ Go: Tokoname Tatsuyuki (37). He’s Slidin’ Go! Skeptic’s No. 2, possibly because Slidin’ Go strongly resembles the puppets Skeptic is so used to barking orders at and there’s comfort in familiarity.

Aozono: Family name for another of Rikiya’s childhood peers, nothing is known but that green skin runs in the family as far back as her father. May or may not be related to Curious’s family.

The Fifth Generation—

Geten: Real name unknown. Family status unknown. Age unknown, but I’d peg him in the 18-23 area. Seems to be allowed to attend the weekly dinners without contributing anything but his incredibly terrible table manners. Can talk an impassioned game about the Liberation Army’s goals (though he pushes the quirk supremacy line a good deal harder than anyone else in the Army is shown to; it’s not even close), but it’s fairly clear that he’s more personally dedicated to Re-Destro than he is the MLA’s cause in and of itself. I’ll be honest; I have no idea what Geten’s deal is. My tentative headcanon is that he’s an orphan—the English meaning of his name, Apocrypha, refers to sacred writings of uncertain authorship/authenticity—who’s in some kind of Batman-and-Robin guardian-and-ward situation with Re-Destro, but I didn’t wind up writing enough about him to come up with much beyond that.

Nimble: Spinner’s No. 1, the woman with the weird paper-strip-esque hair who doesn’t seem to be in possession of a nose or mouth. (She absorbs air through her skin like a frog, which is why no one has ever seen her with that sweater covering both of her shoulders.) Nimble is a friendly sort, though she regards her outgoing good cheer as being a simple matter of social networking. Ambitious, but sensible about it. Meta-ability: Sky Write. Allows her to project letters and pictures into the air around her, giving her a way to communicate she would have otherwise lacked. She can create words in air she can’t see, but it takes some concentration, and the closer the better.

Scarecrow: Spinner’s No. 2, 21 years old. Born with amelia (see link in Day Two’s author’s notes) that disfigured his face and severed his arms in the womb. His quirk-based forelegs—a pair of spider legs emerging from his shoulders—can do a certain amount of basic object manipulation, but it tends to wig people out, so they push him to use his prosthetics like he’s “supposed” to (see Stray Notes section for more on this). He was viciously angry about it even as a kid, and his parents were frustrated, making them easy pickings for cult indoctrination. A family friend recommended that they look into Detnerat, where it wasn’t long before Re-Destro himself took an interest in their situation (or at least in making a good impression on them). Scarecrow joined the Army as quickly as he was allowed to—16. Meta-ability: Webbing. The bug legs can project silk like a webspinner (the insect on which he’s based), allowing him to do anything you might broadly understand Spider-Man to be able to do with his webbing, though he certainly lacks Spider-Man’s strength.

Red: Named in passing in the manga, he’s the laid-back dude with the fluffy hair who serves as Skeptic’s No. 1 post-merger. Probably invaluable in helping Skeptic maintain what bare vestiges of chill he can muster. (First Families lineage)

The Sixth Generation—

Every child currently under the age of 10 being raised in MLA households with a picture of Destro over the mantle. It’s not a small number, representing a group that neither the fandom nor the Hero Commission seem to have even realized exist.

———–

CORE TENETS & THE MATTER OF QUIRK SUPREMACY

Re-Destro is not (contrary to popular fandom belief) in favor of full-throated, might-makes-right, survival of the fittest Quirk Darwinism.[3] Destro’s will was for people to be able to use their meta-abilities as they saw fit to the extent that that freedom did not interfere with the freedoms of others. He was against the regulation of meta-abilities, but he was not—to the best of our knowledge—against the regulation of crime. His belief was that one murderer with a fire ability killing people did not justify barring everyone else with fire abilities from using those powers to fire clay, start campfires, engage in fire-themed performance art, use fire to char wood in artistic patterns for money, help park rangers set and direct controlled burns, coordinate explosions for the movie industry, light cigarettes in public, or any other of dozens of possible uses for a fire ability that don’t involve burning people alive.

The MLA do believe that meta-abilities have an impact on one’s personality, but they also believe that that’s okay; that it should be understood and accepted, not feared and repressed—Curious would not have wanted to turn Toga into a tragedy about the consequences of repression if she didn’t think that a spree of bloodletting murders was a tragedy. Their belief as an organization is that people should be free to use their powers as they see fit in the same way that they would any other natural talent or cultivated skill. They believe that people will, if free to do so, naturally gravitate to ways of improving their own lot in life via use of their meta-abilities.

Freedom from regulation and freedom from discrimination—these are the core tenets that the vast majority of the rank and file hold to. A great many of them are laborers, blue collar types who just want to be able to better support themselves and their families. Many others are those who suffered discrimination because of their quirks and want better for both themselves and their children. Of course, the further back their connections go, the more likely they are to both be higher-ranked in the cult (with attendant greater resources) and to have grown up soaking in generations’ worth of resentment, groupthink, and radicalism.

Geten, a particularly virulent and single-minded MLA attack dog, has parsed the tenets to mean that people with strong, well-trained meta-abilities will naturally be able to use their powers to do more and raise their status in the MLA’s ideal society, and thus that those who can’t or don’t choose to will not be able to live lives that Geten personally thinks are worth living. Likewise, Trumpet doesn’t fault Spinner only for his weak ability, but also for his anti-social tendencies. Of course a politician who’s deeply invested in a narrative of people uniting to throw off their chains and better themselves would be disdainful of someone who locked himself in his bedroom for years and emerged only to violently lash out at society. (Spinner’s right to call Trumpet a huge hypocrite on this, mind; terrorist cult members have no business lecturing other terrorists about the correct way to violently reform society.)

The MLA does have a problem with quirk supremacy, but it’s not quite the problem fandom thinks they do, and it’s certainly more nuanced than fandom thinks.[4] Frankly, I could write a whole post dissecting this, but rather than analyzing the canon at length in a post intending to be about my fanon for a series of slice-of-life MLA fics, let me just lay out some issues I think the MLA have. Note that these opinions may vary member to member, particularly as you work your way up the chain of command.

Many in the MLA believe that people with poor quirks are less capable of asserting their will and becoming whatever they want to be. They are not, notably, alone in that that sentiment—we hear versions of it not only from villains like Trumpet and All for One, but from the paralleled parents of Midoriya Inko and Shimura Kotarou, the would-be hero Bakugou, and even the iconic hero paragon All Might. While it’s not universal, My Hero Academia’s Japan is full of people who believe to some extent or another that people with weak or no quirks are inherently less capable of making their mark on the world. The MLA is just more blatant about it than most.

The MLA are, as a group, not concerned about the fate of the quirkless. My suspicion is that this is because they think quirklessness as a trait is on its way out—that the touted 20% of the world population that’s quirkless is hugely weighted towards the elderly, those who are from generations when quirklessness was more common. Think about it: 20% is two out of every ten people. Statistically speaking, that’s a huge portion! You only have to look at Deku’s middle school classroom in Chapter 1—thirty kids, exactly one of whom is quirkless—to begin to suspect that there’s something a bit off with the 20% figure.

Further, the MLA follows Destro’s beliefs, and we know from Destro’s manifesto that he believed meta-abilities were growing stronger over time. So to their mind, not only is quirklessness becoming a thing of the past, but so are weak quirks in general. While their clear disdain for both is damning—and certainly discredits them as a group suited to decide how society should be structured!—please understand that, “We’re not very concerned with the rights of the quirkless because we think that there won’t be any such thing as quirkless people within a few more generations,” is not the same statement as, “We are A-OK with 20% of the world’s population being second-class citizens for the entire rest of human history,” and it is really not the same statement as, “People with no quirks, or bodies that can’t handle their quirks, need to be proactively removed from the gene pool and we are actively advocating for a systemic, organized culling.”

That said, their disdain, if blown out to society at large, would absolutely lead to discrimination and, undoubtedly, incidents of the same sort of violence that the MLA themselves were forged from. That they haven’t thought or don’t care about this is one of many things that make them villains.

Further, there is an ugly strain within the MLA that still recognizes quirk marriages. Because the MLA values freedom, they’re not as ubiquitous as you might think (at least if you think the MLA is a bunch of quirk supremacists with no other goals or values)—“freedom” does nominally include the freedom to marry who you want rather than let your own meta-ability trap you in a life you hate. However, it’s equally true that in a group that believes very strongly in the value of quirks, the power of quirks in the future, and the necessity of fighting a war to bring about that future, there will obviously be members who support the practice. There are absolutely men and women who have been bullied and guilted by their families into loveless marriages for the sole purpose of producing children with powerful, desirable quirks. How likely this is in any given location mostly depends on the commander’s opinion on it, though it’s a very rare one indeed who would go so far as discouraging it entirely.

———–

THE HEARTS & MINDS PARTY

(Considerations on Japan’s political landscape.)

The current monolith of the Diet, the Liberal Democratic Party of Japan, managed to hold onto power for a full century after the Advent, but their grasp grew shakier and shakier over time. Initial measures to bar meta-humans from voting proved increasingly unpopular as the percentage of the population with meta-abilities grew both larger and older. People with easily-concealed powers gained office, sometimes being outed, sometimes not, but on the whole, decades of oppression and violence led to an ever-more-popular opinion that the LDP had mishandled the whole mess. They lost their supermajority in the Diet when their longstanding alliance with the Komeito party splintered, regained it again for a few electoral cycles, lost it again when Komeito itself fractured, and so on, their once implacable numbers shrinking year by year. Still, they managed to hold onto a coalition majority right up until Saneki Yuuichi was elected to the House of Representatives.

Saneki headed up a small party based almost entirely on the issue of meta-human basic rights. Like many meta-humans of the period, he believed that the best way for meta-humans to attain those rights was to live like so-called “normal humans,” to show that meta-humans were just like everyone else. His party advanced the ideology that meta-humans should only use their powers to help others or better society, not to advance their own self-interest. They pushed stringently for metas to be allowed equal recognition under the law as any Japanese citizen, but also supported measures such as requiring licenses for the use of meta-abilities and limiting those licenses to those actively engaged in assisting police. Deeply tied to respectability politics, Saneki’s party contained virtually all emitters, a scant number of transformers, and no heteromorphs, who the party felt were an impediment to reaching their legislative goals, but whose particular needs could be brought back up at a later, more receptive time.

Saneki’s politics gained him many supporters, but also drove many into the arms of the Meta Liberation Army, who vocally loathed him and everything he stood for. The confluence of public dissatisfaction with the spike in violence represented by the MLA, Saneki’s coalition gathering popular support among both metas and non-metas, and the rise of named, organized hate groups trying to roll back what few advances had been gained in meta-human rights finally spelled the end of the LDP’s majority.

The LDP falling apart prompted a scramble for power that would stretch on for nearly half a century. Old alliances whose only common ground had been opposing the LDP found themselves free to seek groups with more compatible goals. Young single- or dual-issue parties leapt at the chance to address their issues with more fervor. New parties sprung up across the country. Not only meta-humans, but minority groups of all kinds saw new avenues to press for substantive positive changes that had been dead in the water under the LDP. Voting numbers surged as they had not for decades.

The old, conservative elements of the Diet were not gone, of course—they remained a substantial powerhouse!—but no longer could they muster the undefeatable veto-proof numbers that they had once enjoyed.

Like everyone else, the remnants of the MLA saw opportunity in the new, ever-shifting status quo. With the place of metas secured for the time being, there was no longer a need for metas to form coalitions in the Diet merely to get their basic needs addressed. A single-issue party from its inception thirty years prior, Saneki Yuuichi’s party was fragmenting, unable to decide on a single direction now that their uniting issue had been resolved to their satisfaction. In recognition of meta-humans reaching population parity, the MLA launched a project to begin seeding the ideals of Liberation at the highest levels yet—the Hearts & Minds Party.

Beginning as a local party in a prefecture in which the MLA had gained significant underground support, the HMP campaigned on a platform championing individual freedoms and a wide range of improvements to Japan’s battered and overworked social safety nets. They made an effort to showcase diverse representation in their leadership and gave impassioned speeches promising to reach across party aisles in searching for nuanced solutions to the various difficulties facing the country.

It’s impossible to say exactly how large the Hearts & Minds Party is compared to the Meta Liberation Army, which is claimed by Re-Destro to have 116,000 action-ready warriors (the “warriors lying in wait, ready to rise to action” description presumably indicating that his count does not include uninducted children).

On the one hand, one can presume that everyone who’s a member of the MLA is voting for the HMP on every ticket they can, but not every member of the MLA—who induct combat-ready warriors as young as 16—is old enough to vote, and many probably live in districts or prefectures where the HMP has yet to establish a campaign-ready foothold. On the other hand, while the HMP certainly serves to funnel people towards the MLA, it doesn’t require membership—indeed, it’s far better for their goals for them not to do so. Therefore, it’s also probable that the Hearts & Minds Party has many supporters who are not (yet) counted among the Liberation Army’s number. Thus, for the purposes of ballparking estimates, I opted to simply suppose that the two areas lacking overlap (MLA members who can’t vote for the HMP and HMP supporters who aren’t members of the MLA) are relatively equal.

That established, we’re working with a party that has 116K voters/supporters/members. The closest thing to that number that I could find numbers for is the Japanese Communist Party (JCP), which counted 300K members as of 2017. Using their total membership compared to their representation in the Diet (as well as a willingness to viciously bastardize anything resembling reliable political math), I plugged in my estimate for the HMP’s membership and wound up with the Hearts & Minds Party holding four seats in the House of Representatives, five seats in the House of Councillors, and sixty-odd assembly members in various prefectural positions.

For some context to those numbers, the House of Representatives (more powerful, but more vulnerable to sudden electoral shifts) has 465 members, 233 of which are required for a majority, and 310 of which are required to override vetoes imposed by the House of Counsillors. The House of Counsillors (less powerful, but serving longer terms and unable to be dissolved for general elections like the House of Representatives can be) has 245 members, with 123 required for a majority.

As you can see, the HMP holding a handful of seats isn’t going to tilt the My Hero Academia world on its axis. Still, it’s more seats than any number of real-life Japanese political parties hold, and right up until the one-two punch of Shigaraki taking over the MLA and Hawks outing Trumpet’s allegiances to the Hero Commission, the Hearts & Minds Party was well on-track to continue growing its power and influence.

———–

TIMELINE

(For ease of calculation, most dates are rounded to the nearest five years.)

1980: A glowing baby is born in Qing Qing City, China, heralding the Advent of the Age of the Extraordinary. For almost two decades, meta-abilities remain rare and poorly understood—incidents are widespread and show huge variance, so most people write them off as anomalies or hoaxes. As the years go on, however, meta-abilities become more widespread, moving out of the realm of the odd headline that many people think is an elaborate hoax into an alarmed spotlight as it gradually becomes apparent that this is a thing that all humanity is undergoing. Most major technological development pivots to trying to understand, undo, document or control this new phenomenon.

2030: The child who will become All for One is born. By this time, society is breaking down into chaos. Across the globe, measures from outlawing all meta-ability use to internment are seen. Eugenics laws are discussed or put in place. Communities attempt to run out metas and, in response, groups of metas attempt to form their own communities. Infanticide rates are rising alarmingly.

2060: Yotsubashi Chikara and Ujiko (original name unknown) are born. Japan is in complete disarray, awash in mob violence, with organized groups of both metas and non-metas attacking victims indiscriminately. Developing an ability can get you disowned. Divisions among the meta minority are developing a noticeable strain of respectability politics rhetoric.

2065: AFO forces an ability on his younger brother, unintentionally creating One for All. Chikara’s mother is murdered by an anti-meta mob for attempting to speak out in defense of the normalcy of her child’s ability.

2085-2090: Saneki Yuuichi becomes the first meta-human to attain a seat in the Diet. Despite nearly a century of violence, meta-humans are becoming a larger and larger percentage of the population, and the people of Japan are tired. The prevailing sense is that it’s time to make peace; however, the peace that is being forged involves laws sharply restricting the use of meta-abilities for those who haven’t been formally licensed. These restrictions see markedly mixed reactions from metas. Chikara rallies the most vehement dissenters to create the Meta Liberation Army, calling himself Destro. Disagreement over how to handle the MLA finally finishing the job of rattling the Diet free of the death-grip of the LDP. Many years of fractious elections will follow as new coalitions form to try and seize majority power.

2095: Japan signs an international accord acknowledging the fundamental rights of meta-humans. This gesture begins to splinter both internal support and public sympathy for the MLA.

2097: Destro is captured by police and their newly designated Quirk Unit. Other surviving members of the MLA are hunted down or go into hiding.

2100: The term “Hero” is formally adopted, having been casually in use for some time. A Hero is one who is licensed to use their power to fight quirk-based crime in accordance with local and federal laws, assisting the police when requested. The Hero Commission is established as an agency with oversight in the licensing and regulation of Heros. Destro dies in prison. Though the matter is questioned, no proof of foul play is ever brought forward, and the death is ruled a suicide.

2110: Ujiko presents his paper on the Paranormal [5] Singularity Theory. The paper suggests that the power of quirks is continuing to grow with each generation and will, in time, become more powerful than the human body can control. His evidence is inconclusive, however, and his citation of some of Destro’s observations on the phenomenon becomes a particular sticking point. In a country that is finally beginning to get its feet back under it, no one wants to see another widespread panic. Ujiko is stripped of his position; having been living on campus at the time, he’s left functionally homeless and is approached by All for One not long after.

2120: The population of those with quirks and those without reaches parity in Japan. Seeing an opportunity, the MLA launches the Hearts & Minds Party as a local political party, intending to grow it over time.

(2125: Yagi Toshinori is born.)

2138: Yotsubashi Rikiya is born.

(2148: Debut of All Might.)

(2165: Shimura family tragedy.)

(2174: All Might “defeats” AFO.)

2175: Hanabata Koku is elected to the House of Representatives. He’s not the youngest party leader in the Diet, but he’s close.

2180: The events of Deku’s freshman year at UA lead the MLA to turn their attention to the League of Villains.

———–

STRAY FACTS

Why 1980/2180?—

It’s an even number for ease of calculation, triangulated between a few considerations.

Firstly, tasers are mentioned in the One for All dream, so the events of the dream (which themselves are happening far enough into the Advent that society’s had time to slide into all-out chaos) must post-date the invention of the taser, which was in 1993.

Secondly, Spider-Man’s silhouette is seen amongst the group of characters who represent the “fantasy” that became reality. If we assume that those media properties existed in-universe (since the narration is delivered by Midoriya) and were assumed to be fantastical at the time, they must predate the Advent—Spider-Man is the newest of them and his first appearance was in 1962, his material being translated into Japanese by the 1970s.

Lastly, technological and societal development crashed to a halt with the Advent. The world of My Hero Academia generally reflects a modern-ish Japan, so I wanted modern technology—and modern social reforms—to still feel modern to the characters. Thus, the point at which society stopped developing needed to predate the Digital Revolution, which really began to hit its stride in the mid-80s. Hence, 1980.

The opening period is, admittedly, fairly generous on my part, and does assume a certain amount of modern advances were probably underway, but then were lost, sidelined or rolled back as the chaos spread. You could probably trim off twenty years by stepping up how quickly quirks begin to appear and spread, but the very beginning is the best window to do so. I’d still peg the Advent at 1980 based on the calculations above (again, it has to fall somewhere between the mid-70s and 1993) but, for example, maybe All for One is from that first generation, and society only takes 30 years to reach the lowest point of its collapse instead of 80.

As to the 2180, the older characters introduce several requirements for the post-Advent timeline. Ujiko was 50 at the time that society was beginning to stabilize, while AFO dates to its days of utmost chaos. AFO also needs to be running on at least one anti-aging quirk prior to meeting Ujiko; if the only one he were running on was Ujiko’s own, then based on his appearance and the mechanics of Ujiko’s quirk, I’d peg AFO at merely 85, and he needs to be not only over 100, but far enough over 100 that he’s described that way rather than as “a century-old evil” or something to that effect.

Meanwhile, All Might can’t really be any younger than 50, and seven generations of OFA bearer predated him, even if they did all die relatively young. Destro’s mother was killed in those early chaotic days, while Re-Destro (himself no spring chicken) is told as a child that the MLA has been in hiding for generations. “Generations” implies at least two; I further suppose that Rikiya needs to be at least the original Chikara’s great-grandson for him to describe himself simply as Destro’s descendant, rather than use a more specific relationship term. All of this points to a fairly lengthy stretch of time, much more than is glossed over by Midoriya’s series-opening narration.

AFO and the MLA—

I mention in the very first story of this series that the MLA’s contacts all go “mysteriously missing” after the capture of Destro. While the police certainly did their own measure of work in tracking down the Liberation Army’s members and allies, there was another figure with a significant hand in the MLA’s downfall.

All for One, then in his early sixties, had watched the rise of the MLA in some interest. On a personal level, he admired Yotsubashi’s charisma and resolve, and, of course, he wholly supported the free use of quirks (well, his own free use of quirks, anyway)! On the other hand, All for One also sought to restore order to society, albeit order as he himself envisioned it. While he was confident that there was no one who could stand up to him no matter whose ideals won out, Saneki Yuuichi’s way promised a more stable society, and bribable and/or blackmailable bureaucrats seemed easier to manipulate than ideal-driven zealots ready to give their lives for the cause. Thus, AFO decided to help the police a bit behind the scenes, offering a few tip-offs and hints to guide their efforts to end the threat of the Liberation Army.

Of course, as long as Destro was alive, the cause of Liberation still had its focal point. And AFO was still a bit curious to meet this man, who’d inspired so very many loyal followers. It was an easy thing to arrange. An interesting man, and an interesting quirk.

Destro did commit suicide in prison. A man who had always embraced his meta-ability for motivation, and whose ability transformed that motivation into power in turn, AFO stripped him of in the same moment. Isolation from other contact, separation from his lover, his friends and allies, and his cause, a gap in his psyche like no pain he’d ever experienced--all of these piled up on one another into a fatal despair. After AFO’s visit, there was no need for anyone to arrange a convenient death for Destro.

(And if in later years, the monstrous Noumu, who are driven entirely by pre-programmed, single-minded resolve, are flint-skinned from head-to-toe, well—who would ever even think to connect those dots?)

The Mother of Quirks—

An interesting thing I observed from Re-Destro’s confrontation with Clone!Shigaraki is that, based on their exchange, it doesn’t seem to be common knowledge that the Mother of Quirks is the mother of the Meta Liberation Army’s leader? Re-Destro’s apology for assuming Shigaraki wouldn’t recognize the story suggests that it’s a matter of fairly basic historical education, but he then goes on to explain her connection to Destro at some length—if that connection were taught at the same time her story was, surely he’d see no need to do this? Clone-a-raki’s response backs this up—unlike the general existence of the Mother of Quirks, which was such basic knowledge that he was insulted that Re-Destro thought he wouldn’t know about it, her connection to Destro was unknown to him.

Re-Destro describes the connection as “an inconvenient truth.” This, in turn, suggests that the connection has been actively obscured. The MLA’s place in history is taught; the originator of the term “quirk” is taught, but the two are not connected to each other. Kids in school aren’t taught that the very child whose mother was murdered for her words hated what his country was using those words, that message, to do. It’s naked appropriation that continues to this day, and it’s no wonder that the MLA is furious about it.

The Quirk Unit—

An early term for the group that would, in relatively short order after their formation, officially be dubbed Heroes. Composed of both meta-humans already on the police force and vigilantes willing to remit themselves to legal oversight, they fought quirk-based crime in many forms, from the common mugger to the terrorists of the MLA, and even former allies in vigilantism. Well-regarded by history thanks to their efforts in reining in crime and disorder, but quite a controversial group in their early years.

MLA Age of Induction—

Being raised in the MLA means being raised with the goal of eventually being assigned a codename and tasked with supporting the Great Cause in whatever fashion your superiors think you best suited. The minimum age for this is 16, though 18, being the age at which students graduate from high school, is more common. At no point is there really a safe way to leave once you’re involved; they are, after all, a secret army. There’s no aging out of the MLA—it’s a lifetime tour—but disability, injury or general decrepitude can get you assigned to work that generally won’t expect you to see open combat. The Army is composed of a great many lifetime-of-service families, after all, which means they need teachers and caretakers; another option is dedicated work for the Hearts & Minds Party, who always have room for community organizers.

Liberated Districts—

Settlements that are at least 85% MLA-inducted. At their largest, they’re small towns; rural villages are far more common. Without exception, they’re isolated or out of the way. Tend to have unusually good access to city services compared to similarly-sized settlements. Deika was one of the largest districts the Army had, chosen for the Revival Celebration due to its combination of a sizable population and a particularly closed-off location. The MLA knew they’d need many warriors to fight the League of Villains, but they also needed a site that was not merely remote, but that had controllable points of access.

It can take well over a decade to hit the 85% saturation mark in even small villages; Deika and the MLA’s handful of other full-fledged towns are the work of generations. They begin by moving people into an area and setting up gatherings on some useful pretext or another, enthusiastically welcoming newcomers and very, very gradually indoctrinating people further into the ideology. Financial support, an accepting environment for difficult quirks or those with patchy legal histories, the odd homeless shelter or food kitchen, a robust presence in the foster care network—the MLA is very, very good at making themselves a warm, sincere, reliable presence in peoples’ lives, a group that encourages everyone under their banner to be their best selves. They think everyone deserves that kind of support!

They are also willing to shed quite a lot of blood to make sure that everyone can get it.

On the Intersection of Disability and Quirk Suppression—

There are a few factors contributing to why Scarecrow can’t use his quirk to do things others would. First, his quirk is the kind of off-putting that gets Gang Orca ranked third-most villainous-looking hero and leads Shoji to wear a mask because his face disturbs people. So Scarecrow’s quirk is already the kind of visible that makes people look at him askance. Compounding this, his prosthetics are obvious, visible to any old person, and people have a very ugly tendency towards bootstrap, “you can do it if you try” mentalities around people with disabilities. These two factors mean that people who are disturbed by his creepy articulate bug legs would much prefer that he use his significantly less-creepy prosthetics, to the degree that they’re willing to suggest that he’s being lazy if he doesn’t. They cite the quirk-use laws as a deflection tactic, but Scarecrow—whose pattern recognition functions just fine, thanks—is keenly aware of the underlying mindset.

Nimble is in much the same boat—she literally can’t talk without falling back on a visual representation of some kind (sign-language, a text-to-speech reader, etc), and why on earth shouldn’t she be able to use the fastest and most convenient one without people getting up her ass about it?

None of this is the kind of thing that would likely get either of them arrested (though Scarecrow’s creepy enough that the odds are higher for him, “villain quirk” bias being what it is), but the laws-as-written, nonetheless, are discriminatory, and that makes people justly angry. Angry people are easier to radicalize, and the Liberation Army has been working that angle since their very inception.

Re-Destro and Trumpet’s College Days—

RD’s an Engineering major with a focus in Manufacturing; Trumpet’s in PoliSci. They’re two grades apart, with Koku being the older. Those two years of greater experience shift the power balance between them significantly when Rikiya arrives for his freshman year, facing a new place, a new workload, an entirely new rhythm to his life. For the first time, Koku is not merely a friend in similar circumstances who is still—as they’re both reminded near-constantly—subordinate to Rikiya’s every word. Rather, he’s a senpai, someone with specific experience in every aspect of this new stage of life—and someone who’s had two years to become more eloquent, more well-studied, more confident, more mature.

Removed from the immediate supervision of the First Families for the first time in his life, Rikiya allows himself to lean on Koku in ways he never would have back home. Koku, for his part, has had his responsibilities here impressed on him by the First Families at some length, and has spent his entire life being groomed to devote himself to his Grand Commander. Having said Grand Commander looking to him with such glowing esteem in his eyes—well, there’s no denying that it’s pretty enticing. The two of them enter a romantic relationship that will endure for several years until Rikiya gets his head back around the idea that Koku’s ability to say no to him is fundamentally compromised.

The Bindi Connection—

I had no reason to develop them any, and thus I don’t have names to assign, but it seems that Twice’s No. 3, the smiling old woman with the gingham dress and the rough-and-ready attitude to combat, and Geten’s No. 2, the short-haired woman whose face is being devoured by her out-of-control sweater neck, are related. Note the bindi on both of them, as well as the similar hair color, particularly in the page introducing all the advisors. Mutual connection to Dabi’s No. 3, the guy who got into a fight with a hole punch and lost, is uncertain but possible based on the confronting-the-heroes page spread in which Hole Punch dude’s hand lays familiarly on Grandma Bindi’s back while Big Sis Bindi turns partly towards him as if to whisper some sarcastic observation about how lame Cementoss’s ponytail is.

———–

FOOTNOTES

1: Regarding codenames, the first generation of the MLA tended to have names that reflected their meta-ability in some way. From the second generation on, at the behest of Destro’s son, the codenames have become less literal, and thus less revealing.

2: Viz renders the job tile “Executive Director,” but having checked the raw, the Japanese term, senmu, is associated with a fairly specific level of executive authority, and it’s lower than I would peg “Executive Director,” which to my ear sounds synonymous or slightly below Chief Executive Officer. Executive Vice President is wikipedia’s translation; Google returns Senior Managing Director. In any case, she’s near the top, but not at the top.

3: At least, he wasn’t prior to meeting Shigaraki. Now he’s pretty much in favor of a very organized and coherent belief structure that can be summarized as, “Watch Shigaraki tear down the world ‘cause he’s beautiful and I love him,” and honestly, mood.

4: I’ll just come out and say it: fandom blew Geten’s words way out of proportion because a bunch of people got mad that he was being mean to Everyone’s Favorite Serial Killer Dabi.

5: An archaic term by this period. Even “meta-human” saw more use in academic parlance, while the term “quirk” had become much more widespread among the general population since its official adoption during the period of legislation twenty years prior.

#MLAweek2020 #meta liberation army #boku no hero academia #bnha #bnha spoilers #bnha meta #so much meta #my writing #my hero academia

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politesper-moved · 4 years

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the more information itsuki has the more dangerous he is , i think . whether or not he’s a threat or plans to make himself a threat in the future is unknown , but talking to him is a risk . he’s very talented at picking up on things , even the tiniest slivers of information . as asahina the elder has said : “ you’re ( itsuki ) simply too clever . a single careless word from me could become ten words’ worth of information for you . “

seriously though , that whole exchange says more about him then anything else we’ve gotten before . i’m analyzing the entire thing under this cut .

( “ asahina - san , from your perspective , we haven’t had an encounter in some time , correct ? “

“ that’s probably true . “ asahina the elder’s face bloomed in as beatific a smile as koizumi could ever manage . like a witness who’d just noticed a prosecutor’s leading question . “ i can’t tell you anything , koizumi . you’re a highly dangerous person , even among people of the past . there are things that even i am prohibited from doing . but no , even if it were something i could say , by my own judgement i wouldn’t . you’re simply too clever . a single careless word from me could become ten words’ worth of information to you . i’d love to reminisce with you , though . that is the truth . “ )

firstly , we can see that asahina regards him cautiously . she doesn’t confirm is suspicions , hence the word “ probably “ . she doesn’t want him to know how long it has been . then , she mimics his smile , what itsuki does when he’s hiding things . i wonder if adult asahina picked that habit up from him , seeing how often she shoots kyon kind smiles .

she explicitly is stating she doesn’t trust itsuki , and doesn’t want him to know anything about her or her circumstances . the only things she would want to discuss with him are what he would already know . things from their shared past .

( “ i quite understand . those words are enough for me . you’ve told me what i am , and how i’m viewed in the future . even if that was fake , it amounts to the same thing . i’ll do my own information analysis . above all , i should thank you , asahina - san . thanks to you coming here i’ve understood what it is i need to do . the fact that you’ve appeared in front of me is quite extraordinary . which means that i’m going to face that extraordinary thing myself too . you could not face what’s going to happen alone ; you must need my power . no , not only my power --- suzumiya - san’s power too . am i wrong ? “ )

immediately itsuki dissects her words . he really is the over analtical type , but it works in his favor . he knows he’s regarded as dangerous in the future now , if asahina was lying it wouldn’t matter because there would be no reason to lie to him or avoid telling him information if it wasn’t in some sense true that he couldn’t be trusted with even tiny tidbits about the future . this just further pushes the idea that there’s genuine tension between mikuru and itsuki even in the present .

( “ asking questions you already know the answers to is an interesting hobby . i felt this way before , but even so . . . koizumi , out of all the stc data , you truly are an irreplaceable individual . that’s why you were invited into the sos brigade . you were chosen by suzumiya . “ )

it is a strange hobby , isn’t it ? another push to towards the fact that he’s less ignorant than he appears to be . i have a feeling that a lot of questions itsuki asks people are purely rhetorical . also noting we don’t know that STC data stands for still , but personally i believe it means “space time constant” data . since that seems to make the most sense .

again , references to being chosen by suzumiya . looks like it wasn’t just kyon after all , but all of them . but we been knew that .

( “ i’ve become aware of that , yes . at first i only half believed it , and explained it away as the product of happenstance , but i no longer doubt it . i am part of the sos brigade . as is nagato , and your younger self . so what about you , the grown - up asahina - san ? what did you learn when you returned to the future ? why have you come back to this past , or are you merely here to interfere with your former self ? please , explain your position to me . “ )

a contrast to back when he said that he , mikuru , or nagato could be replaced while kyon couldn’t . it proves that itsuki is growing in his views of the situation as he gets information . his understanding changes and thus he changes his views . i find it interesting , since he is also very inflexible in his beliefs . he’s once again a walking contradiction . sometimes i wonder if he’s just pranking us .

as always , itsuki’s first goal in conversing with someone is to get information out of them . if he is not giving information himself he would like to be receiving it . i find it also interesting to note that he doesn’t seem to fully grasp the time traveler’s goals and mikuru’s role specifically in all of this .

( “ what if i said it was . . . classified information . “

“ i would not be surprised . i’m sure if i went back to the past , and the inhabitants there asked me that question , i would tell them the same thing . however --- “ koizumi’s keen eyes regarded fujiwara and asahina the elder equally piercingly --- “ i would ask you not to underestimate the humans of the past . we are not so very foolish , you see . i won’t go as far to say this aplies to all humanity , but humans deeply concerned with the future certainly do exist . “

i was surprised by the sight of an aggressive edge to koizumi’s gaze that i’ve never seen before . )

itsuki also mentions that he would hide information from the past if he was from the future . he can understand things being classified and probably already relates to the idea of withholding information from others . he actually gets upset , at both of the time travelers in the room . he believes that people of the future see people from the past as inferior and itsuki refuses to be underestimated by the likes of them . his group is on the same level as theirs , is what he’s saying , despite being humans from the current time --- arguably the ones with the least amount of information and a severe lack of technology to back them up as compared to the future . the humans he describes are the organization , and he even makes a point to seperate them from the rest of humanity .

( “ little by little i’ve come to understand this , thanks to all the commmotion that various aliens have caused . suzumiya - san’s ability . . . the ability to change reality --- it’s not permanent , is it ? it’s not that it weakens with use , but it’s not something she will possess forever . eventually it will disappear . am i wrong ? “

“ well . . . “ asahina said , obviously attempting to evade the question . )

this is interesting , because itsuki had originally said back in melancholy that haruhi was god . he recognizes that it is not 100% the case , her abilities are god-like , but she is not the creator or allmighty authority over this world . haruhi being god was simply a popular theory among the espers .

however , if her powers are temporary , that means that there is no way that she will hold that staus forever . asahina seems hesitant to answer him and confirm his theory . i can’t tell if this is because she knows the truth and is trying to ensure itsuki doesn’t find out or if she doesn’t want to feed into itsuki’s views , but i’m assuming the former .

( “ it’s not as though you’re being pressed to choose . when they want to do something , they control you as they please , thereby controlling suzumiya . the power she has can even be transferred to another . nagato once managed to do something similar , so these aliens can surely do likewise . “ )

i believe itsuki is referring to asahina’s superiors with that first bit . i appreciate how quickly he is able to catch on despite just being tossed into this situation on a whim . we gotta remember he didn’t get all this explained to him like kyon had . he’s piecing this all together on the spot .

( kuyoh was standing there like a wooden statue ; koizumi shot her a contemptuous look . “ it may be presumptuous of me , but there’s something i simply must say . so i shall . “ he took in a deep breath , and once again revealed his true thoughts . “ i’d like to ask you not to underestimate the people of earth . we’re not such stupid creatures as you might think . regardless of what the data integration thought entity or other alien intelligences might say , we’re quite clever in our own way . at the very least , there are those among us who strive for that . “ )

this is itsuki’s defense . a defense in himself as well as a defense of the people on this world . he may not be nearly on the same powerlevel of these extra terrestrials , but he will not stand by and be underestimated . he knows he is capable of great things , he knows he is smart , and while usually he would laugh these things off and humble himself here we get a true glimsp at koizumi . someone who is self - aware , maybe a little cocky , maybe a little dramatic , but someone who faces adversity head on . i think i’ll finish this off with a quote of his i found intersting , as itsuki is constantly saying he is tired of conflict or wants to avoid it , but despite that --- “ on the surface , humans seem to hate conflict , but in reality they seek it . “

#≪ 🎭 ⇒ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀʟ : study ⇢ a hint of truth. ≫

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brokingyoking364 · 3 years

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vantaestummy · 5 years

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p lease write one where yoongi gets sick all over the backseat of the car because he tried to go on his laptop during a drive (the scenario you mentioned in your carsick jungkook fic a while back) with joon driving since he was the one that mentioned the memory. thank you i love your work

A/N: ofc lovely! Here we go. I hope you enjoy. I wrote this with my amazing anon friend who is a phenomenal writer. I truly enjoyed this collab. they’re so awesome! thank you for everything!

TW/// EMETO

WORD COUNT: 3420

-----------------

Namjoon was a fairly decent driver. Sure, it took him forever to get his license but it wasn’t because he couldn’t drive. It was because he didn’t find it necessary. Where would he go? What purpose would he have to leave the dorms if he could walk or bike most of the way there? It made no sense but having a license did maintain its perks.

Yoongi was hungry, very hungry, and the man had the taste for something far more specific than Namjoon could have ever imagined. He wanted skewers but, not just any skewers. The best skewers in Seoul, and unfortunately for them, those were all the way across town.

So Namjoon drove them there, Yoongi having offered to pay for his meal and the gas so that they wouldn’t return the company car on E. The food was good and sat comfortably in Namjoon’s sated belly. It was perfect.

Until it wasn’t.

Yoongi had decided to bring his laptop along for the journey, hoping to be somewhat productive during the lengthy and impromptu drive. He decided to sit in the front seat on the drive over to the restaurant, not wanting it to feel like he was using Namjoon as his own personal driver, but now that they’re on the way back home, he decided to sit in the backseat so he could have enough space to get comfortable and maybe read through a few blog posts he’d been saving.

He buckles himself into the middle seat so he can still easily lean forward to converse with Namjoon whenever he starts to get bored of reading, but he figures there won’t be very much talking going on judging by the way Namjoon is absolutely immersed in the songs on the radio, completely focused on humming each and every lyric.

Yoongi pulls his laptop out of his bag and powers it up, eager to start browsing the internet. He pulls the sleeves of his sweatshirt further over his freezing cold hands and begins typing in his password. Namjoon hears the clicks from the keyboard and laughs.

“You seriously brought your laptop?” Namjoon questions, voice laced with disbelief as he reaches over to turn down the air-conditioning. Yoongi responds with a small nod, eyes fixed on the blindingly bright screen in front of him as he scrolls through dozens of different articles and posts.

It’s completely silent for the next few minutes, apart from the quiet clicks of the computer mouse coming from the backseat. Namjoon continuously glances in the rear-view mirror, laughing lightheartedly at the way Yoongi is just squinting at the screen, presumably trying to read something important.

"You weren't kidding when you said you've been immersed in the new songs you were writing." Namjoon chides, his voice playful and not at all insulting. Yoongi hums in acknowledgement, the words on the screen zipping past, just like his view outside the window. It almost makes him a little dizzy, the movement of the car along with that of his mind. Yoongi takes in a deep breath, swallowing down an uneasy feeling that has suddenly taken him captive.

Namjoon knows that Yoongi doesn't do too well in cars, more specifically, right after they've gotten off of a plane. There is something about the planting of feet against wavering ground, uncertain surroundings and the body still adjusting to being thousands of feet in the air rather than just five. They all know that the eldest rapper is sucesptible to carsickness but, he must know what he is doing since, he has decided to do the worst thing one could possibly do: read while trapped in a moving car.

Suddenly, he begins to feel boiling hot, the sudden change in temperature reminding him of the time he genuinely thought he was being cooked alive in a sauna while vacationing in Finland. It isn’t a very pleasant feeling, and the sweat collecting above his brow despite the cold air consistently flowing through the vents is particularly unnerving.

With one more glance at his laptop screen and another small wave of dizziness, he decides to push his laptop aside, still leaving it open for when the feeling finally passes. He stares out at the horizon, thankful that he’s sitting in the middle so that there isn’t an entire seat obstructing his view.

He expertly breathes through the disorientation, inhaling deeply through his nose, holding for three seconds, and then exhaling through his mouth, repeating the practiced process over and over until he starts to feel himself calm down.

The breathing exercise helps him feel a little better, and he figures he just got dizzy because he was staring at the screen for too long, so he pulls his laptop back into his lap and begins clicking away once again, hoping the worst is over.

Unfortunately, the second he glances at the screen, he feels his stomach drop, a harsh wave of heat plaguing his body, making his head spin as he shoves the laptop off of his lap, letting it fall to the floor. He realizes that he wasn’t just dizzy from looking at the screen for too long, he was full blown carsick.

Namjoon is more than suspicious at this point. Yoongi has been far too silent and as he looks into the rearview, he sees that the elder rapper’s chubby red cheeks have taken on a faint tinge of green. Not only that, but his laptop is no longer in sight.

Namjoon turns down the radio. “Hyung? You good?”

Yoongi visibly swallows, the car hitting a bump that immediately thrusts his stomach into his throat. “Yeah..” He murmurs, the lie more like a slur that slithers past his lips. He’s too nauseous now to even function, his stomach bubbling the more and more they drive. Yoongi barely stifles a burp in his fist, his vision blurry as he becomes too dizzy to speak.

Yoongi’s mouth begins to fill with saliva at a rapid pace, a telltale sign that he’s going to blow chunks within the next five minutes if he doesn’t manage to get his stomach under control.

He swallows convulsively, trying not to panic when each swallow forces his stomach further up his throat. It’s only making everything worse, so without thinking, he opens his mouth and let’s the drool fall freely from his lips, coating his jeans and part of the seats.

Namjoon makes an unusually sharp turn, muttering something beneath his breath about almost going the wrong way. The directions on his phone tell him to make another turn in a couple hundred feet.

Oh god.

Yoongi feels the urge to gag. There’s no way his stomach can handle another turn. He needs to say something immediately, but he can’t get the words out quick enough. Namjoon makes the turn and Yoongi heaves involuntarily, jolting forwards from the force of it as he slaps his hands over his mouth.

His cheeks puff out with vomit and before he can swallow it back down, it bursts past his tightly sealed lips and sprays through the cracks of his fingers, coating the back of both seats, the center console, and his lap as it steadily drips from his hands.

Namjoon gasps, immediately looking back at the older boy when he hears the horribly grotesque noise. He had a feeling that something was wrong, but he trusted the boy to speak up if he needed to pull over. He never thought this would happen.

Yoongi cups his vomit-covered hands beneath his chin and closes his eyes, shuddering aggressively when another weak gag forces up a trickle of his dinner. It feels far too warm and chunky in his hands, making him want to throw up even more. Namjoon gasps at the sight. Thankfully, his stomach of steel can handle it, and all he worries about is his hyung.

“Fuck hyung. Give me a minute I’m gonna pull over.” Namjoon grits as he manages to swerve around a few slow moving cars, which, now that he thinks about it, isn’t necessarily a good move since the jolt of the car causes his hyung to emit more gurgling noises, a shallow splash sound being heard from behind his seat.

Yoongi lurches forward, not even bothering to sit up as he gags once more, a torrent of puke plummeting to the floor mat below. A burp rips itself from his throat, pushing out an onslaught of vomit as his stomach literally tries to kill him from the inside out.

“Hold on hyung. I see a place where we can pull over.” Namjoon tries desperately to keep his composure but the garbled noises coming from the backseat sound absolutely dreadful as well as painful.

It almost seems a little dangerous when Namjoon frenziedly jerks the wheel and the car jolts to the side of the road, but Namjoon doesn’t mind breaking the law if it means he can finally help Yoongi through this unpleasant situation.

Namjoon rips the key out of the ignition, figuring they won’t be doing very much driving in the next few minutes, maybe even hours. He unbuckles himself before rushing to get to the older boy in the backseat.

He leaves his door open so that some fresh air can flow into the car before opening the back door. His heart sinks, even his strong stomach swirls at the sight. Yoongi looks miserable, skin excessively pallor, hair disheveled and damp from perspiration. His hands and lap are covered in chunks of his dinner and Namjoon doesn’t even know where to begin with the cleanup process.

While he’s contemplating the easiest way to get Yoongi out of the car, the boy in question hiccups, indicating that he’s definitely on the verge of getting sick again.

“Hey-easy, not in your hands!” Namjoon rushes out when Yoongi gives a powerful belch into his cupped hands, saliva pouring from his mouth and coating his fingers. His eyes are squeeze shut as another burp bursts past his lips, this one somehow more nauseating than the last.

The way he’s visibly struggling to keep everything inside of his stomach is alarming to say the least. Splashes of his dinner coat the back of his tongue with every queasy burp and Yoongi knows that vomiting some more is inevitable, but still, he hopes to postpone the event for at least a few minutes.

“Yoongi-stop, let’s get outside the car, okay?” Namjoon says, voice wavering as he grips the older boy by the arm, forcefully dragging his tense figure towards the open door.

Yoongi keeps his hands cupped beneath his mouth, not trusting his stomach at the moment. He hiccups again, the nauseous feeling intensifying by what feels like a million as he slaps a palm over his lips.

He doesn’t manage to make it all the way out of the vehicle before another hot spray of puke ejects from his mouth, splattering all over the last clean section of the seats, steadily dripping down the fake leather and soiling the carpet as well.

Namjoon hauls ass, gripping Yoongi’s waist as he manages to hold the older up so that he doesn’t fall, carefully maneuvering him out of the car where he can barely lean without tipping over. Yoongi heaves, ejecting every last rancid thing that has been boiling in his cauldron of a stomach for the duration of the car ride. He feels so sick, and his head is pounding so viciously that all he can do is gag over and over again.

Namjoon has a calm hand on his back, the other smoothing back his sweaty fringe as the elder male pukes his guts out. Namjoon sighs, feeling awful for what was happening but, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop it. He doesn’t know of Yoongi’s limits. Only he does. So the fact that he decided to read while in a moving car was beyond anyone’s control but his own.

“Baby... look how sick you’ve made yourself. Why would you even try to read knowing how sick you get in cars?” He asks, his tone a bit sharp but more worried than anything. His hyung threw up, a lot. It’s only a matter of time before he passes out from either pure exhaustion, or sickness itself.

Yoongi responds with a heartbreaking whimper, bottom lip beginning to tremble at the words. He regrets bringing his laptop and he regrets thinking he could handle reading on the road. Honestly, he feels so miserable that he regrets going on the drive entirely.

The dinner tasted good when he’d first eaten it in the restaurant, but it definitely wasn’t as enjoyable when it was shooting back up his throat at a rapid pace. It definitely didn’t look as appetizing when it was regurgitated either. There’s no way he’ll be able to stomach skewers ever again.

Yoongi places his palm beneath his shirt, resting it against his swirling tummy. He gags fruitlessly, only ejecting small amounts of saliva with each awful heave. His stomach still hurts, and every time he inhales, all he can smell is the rancid puke that covers the entire front of his shirt and his jeans.

“Here, sit down, okay? I don’t think you can handle any more driving right now.” Namjoon murmurs as he carefully maneuvers Yoongi until he’s sitting on the asphalt, leaning back against the rear tire.

Once he’s sure that Yoongi is stable enough to be left alone, Namjoon sprints around to the trunk of the car, hoping to find a towel, some water, or a spare change of clothes for the sick boy.

Thankfully, he manages to find an unopened case of water bottles. He figures it’s for the company office but he’s desperate to get everything cleaned up, so he tears it open, making a mental note to buy them another pack before they notice. He grabs four of the bottles and rushes back to Yoongi.

Namjoon tentatively reaches down and grabs Yoongi by the wrist, holding up the limp limb so that he can clean it off. He unscrews the cap on one of the water bottles and pours it over Yoongi’s hand. The eldest rapper has his eyes closed, his head heavy like a weight as he keeps his chin against his damp chest. One would think he’s asleep from how he looks, but Namjoon knows he is painfully awake.

He winds up using the entire bottle of water, tossing it aside before using his own shirt to dry off Yoongi’s hand. The older boy just sits silently, his cheeks burning deep red as he let’s Namjoon clean him up.

It doesn’t feel possible, but Yoongi swears his cheeks burn ten shades darker when Namjoon intertwines their fingers together, pausing his task of cleaning to reassuringly rub his thumb across the top of Yoongi's hand.

They sit like that for a moment, Namjoon’s hand in Yoongi’s as he draws patterns into the skin there unconsciously. Yoongi’s stomach still aches, his throat burning and raw but thankfully, he has nothing more to throw up. He’s still dizzy though, and everything hurts so bad that he’s having problems seeing straight.

As if Namjoon was reading his mind, he places a light kiss upon Yoongi’s head. “Here, rest for a minute. Lean on me. We’ll get back to driving when you feel up to it.”

Cars speed past as Yoongi does as he is told, leaning his head against the younger’s shoulder, relenting all of his weight and closing his eyes with a heady sigh. “I’m sorry. It was dumb to read. Just thought I’d get some work done. I thought I could stomach the drive.” He nearly slurs, his cheek smooshed against the younger man’s shoulder. Namjoon doesn’t say anything for a moment. Instead, he kisses Yoongi’s hair once more.

“It wasn’t the best move but, it’s not like you did it on purpose. Like you said, you thought you could handle it. I’m not mad.” Namjoon reassures with little pecks.

Yoongi snuggles his head deeper into the crevice of Namjoon’s neck. “We had to stop because of me. And now we’re stranded because I couldn’t keep my stomach where it belongs.” Yoongi pouts, squeezing his eyes shut and groaning. Namjoon giggles a bit before giving the older rapper’s hand a gentle squeeze, his other arm wrapped snuggly around his soft stomach.

“It’s okay baby. It’s not like it’s my car anyway. I think it’s Sejin’s.”

Yoongi snorts at that, a squeaky giggle slipping past his lips and making Namjoon want to coo. He squeezes Yoongi closer to him, kissing him on the forehead his time.

The older boy mumbles something incomprehensible underneath his breath as he feebly shoves Namjoon away from him, bashfully staring down at the ground when the affection becomes too much for him to handle.

“I should probably start cleaning the seats now.” Namjoon says awkwardly, itching the back of his neck as he stands up and heads back towards the trunk of the car where he remembers seeing a few spare sweatshirts that he knew belonged to Jungkook. Yoongi doesn’t really want him to go but, he doesn’t really have the bearings to stand at the moment.

Namjoon leaves all of the doors wide open to let the car air out a little before he begins scrubbing at the mess with his impromptu towels. He feels bad for soiling Jungkook’s clothes, but he’d feel even worse if he had to return his managers car with a puke-covered backseat.

Namjoon feels thankful that the seats are leather so nothing really soaked through or ended up staining. It easily absorbs into the material of the clothes and the cleaning process is finished within five minutes. It’ll definitely need to be scrubbed with disinfectant and the carpet and floor-mats should probably be shampooed, but there’s no real visible evidence of the incident.

Yoongi gives a weak cough and Namjoon smacks his head against the roof of the car as he hurriedly crawls out to get to beside the sick boy, worried that he’s about to start vomiting once again.

“Are you going to throw up again?” Namjoon questions as he drops onto his knees in front of Yoongi, placing a caring hand on the older boy’s cheek. Yoongi shakes his head, wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

“I just want to go home and take a bath.” Yoongi whines, eyes glimmering with unshed tears as he looks at Namjoon, waiting for some kind of solution or comfort from the leader. He feels disgusting.

“I managed to get the inside of the car all cleaned up, so how about we change your shirt and then we’ll start driving again, okay?” Namjoon murmurs, pushing some of Yoongi’s disheveled hair out of his eyes.

Yoongi nods shyly, lifting his arms up to let Namjoon peel off his soiled shirt. Namjoon moves as quickly as possible, turning away as he hands Yoongi the last clean sweatshirt he’d retrieved from the trunk.

Yoongi pulls the sweatshirt on and makes to stand, laughing quietly when Namjoon fusses over him and grabs his hands, slowly guiding him towards the passenger seat as if he can’t walk on his own.

Namjoon reaches over Yoongi’s body to buckle his seat-belt for him and Yoongi blushes at the close proximity. Once Yoongi is settled, Namjoon climbs into the drivers seat and starts up the car, instantly rolling down all the windows to make sure there’s enough cool air to keep Yoongi’s stomach calm.

Then, Namjoon blindly reaches for Yoongi’s hand, humming contentedly when he finally finds it and interlaces their fingers. He gives a couple soothing squeezes before pressing a gentle kiss atop Yoongi’s knuckles.

“Let’s get you home, pukey.”

------------------

A/N: Is smoosh a word? idk. there’s no red line under it and it wasn’t corrected when I was writing so ill take it. I love you guys. the best parts of this fic were written by my friend tee hee.

#sick bts #bts emeto #bts sickfic #car sickness #sickie #sick fic #sickfic #caretaker!namjoon #sick!yoongi #sick!namgi #my fic #collab #emeto #tw emeto #emetophilia #tw vomit #tw puke

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dragons-bones · 5 years

Text

FFXIV Write #5: Fifth Invocation

Prompt: Vault | Master Post | On AO3

tagging: @sea-wolf-coast-to-coast

“Are you sure we shouldn’t be helping them?”

Synnove examined her nails critically before fishing an emery board from one of her many hip pouches. She smoothed a rough edge only she could see. “Absolutely,” she said, voice icy.

Rereha looked up from shoveling and scowled at her. “Rude.”

“Kunafa,” Synnove hissed.

Rereha yelped and started shoveling faster. Aymeric managed to disguise his laugh as a cough as Synnove muttered about food thieves next to him.

A ‘thunk!’ echoed out of the hole. “Found it,” Alakhai’s voice drifted up.

Synnove and Aymeric stepped back as Heron and Alakhai heaved an ironwood chest over the lip of the hole they’d dug and shoved it onto flat ground. Rereha clambered out, grumbling about needing a manicure, stomping towards the chocobos and dragging all three shovels behind her. As she collapsed the handles and stashed them with their travel packs, Alakhai took out her thieves’ tools and started checking the chest for traps.

Heron dusted herself off and picked up her shield from the boulder she had leaned it up against before starting to dig, slinging it onto her arm loosely. “Twelve, let this one finally give us a portal,” she groused. Alakhai grunted agreement.

Aymeric wrapped an arm around Synnove’s waist, the Highlander leaning into his side automatically. The pair of them both ignored Rereha’s gagging noise behind them. “Where exactly do these chests come from?” Aymeric said. “I recall towards the end of the Dragonsong War, there seemed to be a surprising amount of successful treasure hunters throughout Coerthas and Dravania for such a supposedly rare occurrence.”

“Current working theory in the Adventurers’ Guild is there’s some supposed legendary thief who’s left breadcrumbs to their hoard of unimaginable wealth,” Synnove said, dropping her head onto his travel-leather covered shoulder. “Considering how often we come back to the same spots and find a new chest, someone is either physically reburying chests, or has a very sophisticated teleportation spell system that automatically ‘refills’ a location.”

Aymeric rested his chin on her head and drawled, “And if it’s the later, you want it.”

“I want it baaaaaad.”

“That’s what she said,” Rereha muttered as she rejoined them. She stepped out of the way of the kick Synnove aimed at her. Aymeric snickered into Synnove’s hair despite himself.

Alakhai, meanwhile, stood up and stashed her tools in her belt. “Chest is clear,” she said. “Just one of those scent traps to lure in the local wildlife.”

“All right, let’s be disappointed,” Rereha said.

The Xaela snorted, and popped the lid. Almost immediately, a dark, circular portal ripped into existence above the open lid.

“Finally!” the four woman all shouted. Aymeric laughed.

Alakhai quickly rifled through the chest. “Tomestones, of course. I swear, whoever this thief is, they must be working with—”

“Don’t say the name!”

“—Rowena.”

Rereha, Heron, and Synnove collectively shuddered; Aymeric hugged Synnove a little closer as she muttered about under her breath about how terrifying that woman was.

Alakhai ignored them all, merely adding, “And some gil, just add that to the pile for later.”

Heron whistled, and the chocobos all came over to settle in next to the chest, on guard for any opportunistic looters. Synnove reluctantly pulled free of Aymeric to help gather the potions and empty bags from the packs.

Once they were ready, Alakhai reached towards the portal, channeling her aether into. The group of five vanished…

…with the portal teleporting them to the platform in the middle of a room covered in gaudy Thavnairian iconography and statuary.

“Yes!” Rereha said, raising her fists in victory. “The Shifting Altars!”

Synnove snapped her fingers, and all three of the carbuncles tumbled out of the aether. They sniffed around curiously before settling around the arcane sphere floating gently near the inner circle of the platform, with Heron heading towards the immediate center, sword drawn and shield at the ready.

Rereha clapped her hands excitedly. “All right, explanation for our guest,” she said cheerfully. “You’ll notice this platform is surrounded by what’s basically a roulette ring.”

“Bit hard to miss,” Aymeric said drily.

“You’d be surprised,” Alakhai muttered.

“Touching the arcane sphere over yonder activates the ring,” Rereha continued. “Blue is a lesser summon; green a greater summon; red an elder summon; gold brings some…special friends; purple is an atomos that will throw us out of the Altars, or maybe not; and white… we’ve got no idea. We’ve never seen the wheel land on it. In any event, we do this five times if an atomos doesn’t do terrible, terrible things to us, then we get teleported out of here and whichever madman maintains this setup resets it for the next group of lunatic adventurers.”

“Summons are always some large monster, and they inevitably will bring some of their friends in the middle of the fight,” Heron called out. “Tyr will normally corral them for us, but sometimes it gets hectic; if you could help him on that?”

Aymeric saluted her, unsheathing Naegling from his hip.

“I know it doesn’t need repeating, but it’s a good habit to keep,” Alakhai said in the monotonous drone of someone who has to give the spiel before. “So: today’s attempt at treasure is on behalf of the Arcanists’ Guild scholarship funds, all proceeds and profits from found items sold on the market go to finance the educational opportunities of Eorzea’s finest minds, et cetera, et cetera.”

“The amount of people who don’t read the posted message in full is depressing,” Synnove muttered.

“Alakhai, when you’re ready!”

The Xaela waved to Heron and waded her way through the carbuncles to the sphere. “Going on three!” she called out, lifting her hand to begin channeling aether.

“Three! Two! One!”

The next bell was an exercise in carefully controlled chaos: avoiding spells, ducking tails, dodging claws, tossing potions to one another, and herding smaller monsters out of the way to be dealt with methodically. Aymeric, thankfully, had accompanied them on bounty hunting expeditions before, so while he didn’t possess the Echo, he unhesitatingly moved where directed by Synnove or Heron as their own Echoes alerted them of incoming danger. (He also had the best sense for where to throw Ivar so the ruby carbuncle and his grenade programming could cause the maximum amount of damage.) In between bouts of combat, Synnove and Rereha looted the treasure chests that teleported to the center of the platform, shoving gil into their rapidly-filling bags along with bars of assorted metals, bolts of liquid, and bottles of liquid they identified as components for enhancing specific magical properties on armor.

One particular item they found was a piece of fine linen that had Galette immediately making sad eyes at Synnove.

She sighed. “All right, sweetheart, you can have it. A scarf, maybe?”

Galette yipped excitedly as Synnove folded the bolt up and shoved it into one of her hip pouches. Yes, please!

And the once the loot was dealt with, onto the next round of battle.

(Aymeric stared at the enormous mandragora the gold icon summoned for them. “That,” he said, “is absolutely ridiculous.”

“And annoying,” Synnove said with a sigh. “He brings along a matching crew that have to be brought down in a specific order or it gets…ugly. At least it wasn’t the enormous golden namazu and his damned pitchfork.”

“Oh, now I know you’re having me on, love.”)

Finally, they made it through four invocations. Synnove stared critically as the roulette wheel around them reset to only three types of icons: red, purple, and white. “This is either going to be very disappointing or very ugly,” she said.

Heron said with a shrug, “At least we didn’t get an atomos before this point; if we get one now, it wouldn’t have been all for naught.”

“Spit, not swallow.”

“REREHA!” three voices bellowed. Aymeric choked in surprise, laughing through a cough as Synnove pounded him on the back and scowled at the lalafell as she did. Rereha merely cackled.

Alakhai aimed a kick at Rereha as she headed back for the arcane sphere; Rereha of course danced out of the way with an especially ostentatious twirl. “All right,” the Xaela said, “let’s get this over with, I want a nap.”

The circle of aether light cheerfully clicked around the ring for the last time. It began to slow, before calming to a halt on the purple atomos icon. The group all head their breath.

Then—

It clicked over to the white elephant icon, and activated.

“Oh, my gods, we are gonna die and it’s gonna be ugly,” Rereha said, wide eyed, as black aether began coalescing at the middle of the platform and the entire room lit up with golden light.

The shadowy aether roared upwards, nearly to the high arched ceiling of the Altar, then collapsed downward. The five readied themselves, weapons drawn, with the carbuncles crouching to pounce. And as the aether dissipiated—

—a grey matanga stood in the very middle. He was tiny for a matanga, about Synnove’s height, and his tusks were very short, barely curling upwards on either side of his trunk. His head nearly twice the size of the rest of his body, and his enormous ears twitched as he looked around in bewilderment.

“What?!” he said, then blinked huge black eyes. “Oh, a summoning! I’ve never done this before!” He clapped his hands excitedly, trunk curling in obvious delight.

(Synnove gurgled, grimoire dropping to the ground as she clutched her chest with both hands. “Oh no,” she wheezed, “he’s fucking adorable.”

“Synnove, you will control yourself,” Alakhai hissed back.)

“You’ve come for treasure, yes?” the matanga prince squeaked out, apparently not hearing the exchange. “Then treasure you shall ha—HRK!”

There was now a Highlander attached to the young creature, hugging the life out of him. “You’re so CUTE!”

The matanga blinked. “Thank…you?”

Ivar sat back on his haunches, paws covering his eyes, and chattered out a groan. Mama is so embarrassing. Galette and Tyr nodded agreement.

Aymeric, Naegling sheathed at his side, inched closer, carefully gripping Synnove’s arms. “Now, dear,” he said, as Synnove sniffled back overwhelmed tears, “it’s a bit rude to hug a stranger without permission.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine!” the matanga said. “This feels really nice! You give very good hugs, miss!”

Synnove made that horrible gurgling sound again. Aymeric sighed quietly.

Rereha put her hand in her hands as Heron rubbed her temples. Alakhai merely looked up, mouthing, Why. Why this.

Aymeric patted Synnove gently on the back, and finally tried again. “I’m sure the younger master needs to go,” he said to her. “His parents are likely wondering why this is taking so long.”

“I’m sorry!” the prince said. “I really do to return home.”

She sniffled again, hard, but reluctantly drew back, and let Aymeric shuffle her a few paces away.

The matanga prince waved. “Bye, miss! Thank you for the hug!”

Synnove waved sadly in return, and the little matanga vanished in a pop of aether, leaving behind a large treasure chest Rereha immediately darted towards. She sniffed and turned to drop her head on Aymeric’s chest. “He was so precious,” she said.

Aymeric hugged her. “Yes, he was,” he said, patting her back soothingly.

Another sniff. “Aymeric?”

“No, Synnove.”

“Damnit.”

#ffxivwrite2019 #dt's writing #final fantasy xiv #aymeric de borel #oc: synnove greywolfe #oc: rereha reha #oc: dancing heron #oc: alakhai noykin #synnove's carbuncles #aymeric x wol #aymeric x synnove

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