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#dw lore
causalityparadoxes · 5 months
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The One Who Waits: what if its Death?
Death is what waits for everyone. She's inescapable. She's inevitable. It makes sense the Toymaker, a creature of eternal play, would stay away from the embodiment of Ending.
Not to mention rtd is clearly still going with exploring the Doctor's past and Death is tied to at least one version of the Doctor's origin
Between the duo in Can You Hear Me, Time in Flux, and the Toymaker in The Giggle, the show has been inching back towards eternals and godlike creatures.
Wouldn't it be cool if Death was next?
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apollognese · 5 months
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Peek-a-boo with a baby Salem🙈🙈
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shadows-of-silvergate · 10 months
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"You're not a bad person, Juggie." — Betty Cooper, SoS
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waffowo · 4 months
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As much as I dislike Timeless Child for its execution, I actually have warmed up to it conceptually than originally. I think what I respect about Chibnall (I always found his era more over-hated and the criticisms not in the correct places) is that he does have a degree of ambition lacking in some other parts but is just unable to execute it as well as Moffat. My breaking point when I realised fixating on it is a worthless endeavour is when I listened to Neverland/Zagreus/Scherzo and realised lore in Doctor Who is nonsensical and I should just not give a fuck.
We as a society need to give up on a rigid continuity even if it’s contradictory.
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fredtheeternalsnail · 5 months
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Just reached The Magician's Apprentice/Witch's Familiar in my Doccy Who rewatch. The comment Davros makes about "the only other chair on Skaaro" is so unintentionally funny 💀
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This is the epitome of Doctor Who right here
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Do you ever wonder how many working TARDISes are actually on Gallifrey? Because apart from the handful of renegades, the Time Lords really don’t like leaving their home planet. So it makes you wonder what the point of creating a TARDIS if nobody is allowed to use them?
Oooooo good question! I think at first TARDISes were exploratory, and thus pretty restricted to science-adjacent people. Next, I would imagine the Time Lord ego over the dominion of time probably kicked in, so they started making all sorts of rules to define their eventual non-interference policy. But from what I understand, their policy also involved a good bit of watching to maintain timelines and the way things "should" be. (mostly based on: The Sound of Drums: "sworn never to interfere, only to watch"). So I interpreted that to mean there probably were something like lifeguard towers scattered around key point of space-time and some Time Lords had the job of keeping things correct.
But the biggest reason that everybody (well everybody who went to the Academy) knew how to pilot a TARDIS was the eventuality of war. Even pre-time war, I get the feeling that Gallifrey was highly militarized and prioritized getting ready (and displaying their power). So they would constantly have TARDISes on hand and keep developing them to that end.
So to finally answer that question: I think there were always a ton of TARDISes about because the Time Lords were monitoring all of space and time, and who knows how many points you need to sufficiently sample the correctness of time. They kept developing new models, so they would be updated and decommissioned as that happened (but clearly the museum pieces were kept in a generally workable state).
And with the start of the Time War, they were scrambling for any TARDISes they could use, both restarting usage of old models and rapidly creating more with the specific context of battle.
Thanks for the ask! I always appreciate the chance to ramble my little theories. Which are vaguely based on canon but also very much based on vibes.
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ghostfacerseffect · 2 years
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I have my numerous complaints about the timeless child arc/reveal however the amount that it reframes time lords as being a very similar pseudo-species to necromancers IS incredibly appealing to me because if there's one thing I can do it's make fucked up connections between fucked up guys. Anyway I think we should put Thirteen and John Gaius in a room together. In this essay I will-
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paintdoktahwho · 5 months
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felsicveins · 4 months
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Follow up to this
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timespacegirls · 5 months
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diversity win!! the doctor just asexually reproduced
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doctor who but i've never watched it
and so it begins again. the people asked for it. the people got it. i will ensure the people regret it.
i have never watched this show, or seen an edit, but i am a thorough researcher and i feel that i've got the essence of it.
this is what i have gathered. academicians worldwide take note.
Firstly, so I don't anger anyone, I accept and acknowledge that the tardis is blue and not yellow. My misinformation was from a Drarry fanfiction, and I had hitherto regarded Drarry fanfiction as the absolute truth.
There are doctors, and there are at least fifteen of them. At least two of them are David Tennant, which I can respect.
I'm not sure why the doctors are doctors, because I can find no trace of any medical procedure except for one doctor who licks things, which he learned from the previous doctor. If this is sufficient reason, I apologise for doubting their credentials.
On the other hand, if they are doctors thanks to a postdoctoral degree, this is also fine, though I have never seen anyone study anything. There is however a doctor, and there were people upset about her, but the fandom pointed out she set the tardis on fire, which is apparently a very doctor thing to do. Setting things on fire is absolutely something any research scholar would love, so again, apologies for doubting their credentials.
At least one doctor is gay. It is probably one of the David doctors, which checks out. He says someone, I think a dentist, is hot. I envy the maybe-dentist.
A t least one doctor is trans. I was unable to find them. But they exist. Oh yes, the fandom assures me they exist.
David Tennant as well as Ncuti Gatwa were fanboys, first of the show, and second of David Tennant, and thus they got into acting. Just a fun tidbit from me, since I am now the authority on this fandom.
There are time machines with which the doctors have sex by piloting them, which is questionable because the time machines are only partially sentient. I am not sure if the time machines are the tardis. But the tardis is blue, and not yellow, of that I am certain.
There was a stage play. Or maybe that was a metaphor for the production budget of the early seasons. I am not sure, but toddler David Tennant watched it. I assume no one took a 3 year old to a stage play, so through scientific deduction, it must have been a metaphor.
At some point, Death is an agony aunt and they have to spill secrets to it, or drown in a lake of human skulls. Who is this they? It's so obvious that the fandom sees no need to explain it, and neither do I. I do know it though. Of that you may remain certain.
A David doctor has a niece and she likes being his niece.
A David doctor has a best friend named Donna. He kisses her head. She supports his fruitiness. It is wholesome. It killed him when he lost her.
Slight tangent, but younger David doctor looks like Andrew Garfield. Current David in photos does give Ben Barnes energy. Any Wolfstar shippers, I believe you've found the Wolfstar kid. It is David Tennant.
A lot of people are David Tennant. A reliable Pinterest post on Doctor Who, clearly well researched, gave me the statistic that 15% of Doctor Who is David Tennant. From the amount of David Tennant that I ran across in my research, I don't understand it but I don't doubt it, either.
Speaking of Andrew Garfield, he in involved in this somehow. I am not sure how, but you cannot escape Andrew Garfield. He is even a part of fandoms he never acted in.
There is an individual named Catherine, I think she is the actress, but she could be a character. She seems to have much less knowledge about Doctor Who lore than I do. David Tennant finds it funny. Maybe he would find me funny, too.
The doctors installed some things in the tardis, from a wheelchair ramp to a jukebox. I don't know why a jukebox was needed. If I'm honest I don't know what a jukebox is. I don't know what the tardis is. But it is blue, and not yellow.
There is a French catchphrase.
Something happens in Wales. I don't know what it is, but something always seems to be happening in Wales in these fandoms, so I don't doubt it.
There is an old Doctor Who in a wheelchair, and he is happy to see a David doctor.
They go around in space, and do things. Who is this they? You and I both know the answer, so we needn't talk about it.
The show intro is "doo wee doo".
There is an alien who is not a mouse, the alien is The Meep, and uses the definite article as pronouns. David doctor is supportive of this, which is very good.
I found baby Yoda in the show, but apparently they call it a 'goblin' there, and someone doesn't like it.
There is a lot to do with time. There is a time hole, and things happen, and people die and are resurrected. There is danger, but it is fun.
They have CGI, and it is not good, which is the best thing about it. Who is they? Please stop asking me. It is rather obvious and something I definitely know.
Someone's boyfriend dies and the boyfriend is then resurrected but then gets lost with his boyfriend but then is reincarnated as a girl who would still call herself the someone's boyfriend but then she is replaced by the boyfriend but he's different now. I apologise for any errors that have crept it, but the tardis is blue and not yellow.
Someone named Martha is a doctor, and someone is very proud of her for it.
The eleventh and twelfth doctors like bow ties.
David Tennant wants to be ginger. David Tennant always gets what he wants. Who can refuse David Tennant? David Tennant is then ginger.
A David doctor gets a happy ending.
Someone yelled at Neil Gaiman about this. It was a mistake. He said that since it had already been done, he wouldn't want to give David's character a happy ending in S3, that would be a trifle unoriginal.
A lesson to be learned, Good Omens fandom, just a bit of advice from your son, do not yell at Neil Gaiman, it does not go well. Rumour has it he murdered the people who complained about him always wearing black. Of course, there is the fact that he doesn't exist, but that doesn't seem to have stopped him.
The doctors manifest in the previous doctor's clothes, which is apparently so last season. The tardis also manifests. I don't know where, or how. But it is blue, and not yellow.
I know, there was a lot of lore, so many of you thought I wouldn't be able to gather it all. But look how much research I did! I've got it better than maybe-actress-maybe-character Catherine, I'm sure :"]
Anyway, all the major plot points are covered above, so anyone who hasn't watched Doctor Who, feel free to refer to this and impress your Whovian friends with your knowledge! [not to be judgemental, but what a dreadfully Dr Seuss name, I rather like it]
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apollognese · 23 days
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Sera and her youngest🥹🥹
Atticus was just four when she died.
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shadows-of-silvergate · 10 months
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Expressions of Betty Cooper👍👍
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candle-scm · 4 months
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1. Sokka knows all the best Southern Water Tribe hair oil mixtures and therefore Izumi's hair is the best in the palace (yes even beating Zuko) and 2. Sokka doing Izumi's hair became their gossip hour and that's the way it's been since she was a toddler
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greenglowinspooks · 6 months
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(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 1)
Tw: one instance of canon-typical violence (DC), vivisection mention
Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually
(Prologue) - (Pt. 2)
(Subscription post/masterlist)
Danny has been working for Mr. Cobblepot for over a month now.
The first few weeks he was in the Penguin’s company, he couldn’t do much of anything. Instead, Mr. Cobblepot made sure that he was well-rested and beginning to recover.
Danny cried a lot in the first week that he was there.
He cried when he ate for the first time in years; the GiW had kept him on IVs and a feeding tube, so they wouldn’t have to move him from his surgical table.
He cried when he was given his own room to stay in, when he was brought clothes to wear, when he was given a bodyguard to protect him.
He cried when Mr. Cobblepot’s doctors told him that the damage to his vocal chords was likely permanent, and that he would never sound the same again. That he would find it hard to speak at any volume above a whisper.
Apparently, he had a lot more damage to him than he had thought.
The doctors said that the scarring in his brain stem suggested his entire brain had been removed and had regrown. Danny couldn’t really disprove that, and it did line up with a pretty substantial gap in his memory, but if that was the case then why couldn’t his voice recover too?
The scarring and incredibly new tissue that showed up in scans of several other parts of his body suggested that the GiW had done the same thing with most of his organs, as well as a few limbs, and all of the fingers on his right hand.
Danny could remember that. He just didn’t want to.
Perhaps it was the feeling of pity that kept Mr. Cobblepot so understanding of Danny’s slow recovery. That didn’t really matter much, though; Danny’s energy was focused on keeping his place here, ensuring that Mr. Cobblepot didn’t decide he was no longer worth the effort.
As it turned out, there was an easy enough solution to that.
Danny was the only one who knew how to properly operate and modify the weapons and inventions stolen from the GiW.
And so, Danny had a niche he could occupy. He could be useful, useful enough that Mr. Cobblepot couldn’t get rid of him, even if he wanted to.
And, as it turns out, Danny remembered quite a lot of the theories he heard while he was on the cutting board.
As soon as he had enough muscle control of his arms to do so, he was working away at the machinery created by the GiW and his parents.
No, not his parents.
Doctors Madeleine and Jack Fenton.
Regardless of their creators, he was able to understand them quite intimately.
Maybe it was because the ectoplasm flowing through the weaponry was his own, maybe it was because he had nothing to listen to for three years other than the excited chatter of his vivisectionists as they cut him open. Maybe it was because they were both simple weaponry without a purpose.
Danny found working on the machines soothing in a way that nothing else was.
The smell of oil and grease, the sounds of mechanical clanking and metal joints squealing, the feeling of cold steel beneath his fingertips.
The first thing he did to the machines was replacing the paint, from shiny white to a matte black. That way, they were recognizable as his own modified creations.
It was only a bonus that he didn’t catch his reflection in the metal surfaces this way.
Still, his reflection was starting to become more familiar to him. It was still strangely off-putting to see, but his face was beginning to plump out from consistent eating, and his skin was beginning to lose its unhealthy pale tone, going back to a more natural pinkish color.
His eyes still looked devoid of life, but that could be ignored as long as he didn’t look at himself for too long.
Danny sighed, leaning back in his chair as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He was working on modifying the ectoblasters so that they could properly hit humans, as per Mr. Cobblepot’s orders.
He probably should feel some sort of moral conflict over it, but really, Danny couldn’t find it in him to care. Maybe it was some sort of deep internal flaw, or maybe it was because he knew that they wouldn’t be shot at anyone without blood on their hands. Either way, he didn’t have any qualms with what he was doing.
As Danny reconnected the circuitry within the gun, the indicator lights on the side of the muzzle blinked to life, a familiar neon green.
Danny would have to change that color too, he thought. Maybe red would be nice instead, or an icy blue?
He was pulled from his thoughts by the door to his temporary workshop opening. Danny looked up, and smiled when he saw that his bodyguard was the one standing in the doorway.
The man, known only as Derringer, was 6’2”, built like a tank, and known for his love of unusual firearms. He was also a big fan of card games, and had been teaching Danny how to play Blackjack during their meals.
He gently closed the door behind him, strolling into the workshop.
Danny hopped out of his seat, hugging the man tightly. Derringer laughed, patting Danny on the back as he clung to him like a koala.
“Good to see you too, kid,” the man said, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, “you just about done in here?”
Danny nodded, letting go of the bodyguard. He picked up the gun on the desk, handing it to Derringer, and pointed to the target resting in the far corner of the room.
Derringer glanced down at Danny, shrugging before aiming the gun.
He pulled the trigger, and a large scorch mark appeared in the center of the target.
Derringer whistled appreciatively, walking over to inspect the damage.
There was a deep dent in the center of the metal target, around an inch in diameter, and a large scorch mark surrounding it. The metal of the dent was white-hot, and the area around it was somewhat warped.
“That’s real nice, kid,” Derringer said, “don’t know how you do it.”
Danny grinned, baring his teeth at the man. He smiled back, ruffling his hair.
“The boss is gonna go forward with the Arkham raid soon, so long as your guns are ready,” he said, “he’s eager to try them out for real. You think you’re up to talking to him?”
“Yes,” Danny signed, nodding to the man.
“Good,” Derringer signed back.
Mr. Cobblepot, not wanting Danny to be limited in his speech by the damage to his vocal chords, had ensured that all of the people who interacted with him knew at least the basics of ASL.
When he wasn’t working on the ectoblasters, Danny was practicing his ASL with a dedicated tutor, or with Derringer, who learned the language when his mother had gone deaf.
“Can I eat first?” Danny signed, “I forgot to.”
“You forgot, or you didn’t want to leave your work?” Derringer asked, signing as he spoke, the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement, “and yeah, the boss wants to talk to you in thirty minutes. You’ve got plenty of time before then.”
“Thank you,” Danny signed, “let’s go.”
“Hey, just a sec,” Derringer said. His face had dropped into something unusually serious.
Danny nodded, tilting his head as he signed a quick “what’s wrong?”
“You’re a good kid. Even after what you’ve been through, you’re…you’re a really sweet kid,” Derringer said, looking away. “But you…you can’t keep being sweet to everyone. You gotta act tough, alright?”
“Why?”
“You just…” Derringer sighed, combing a hand through his thick, curly hair, “a lot of the guys think that you’re too weak to be here. They’re calling you the Penguin’s pet project, and the problem is that they’re not really wrong. You gotta be scarier to survive, alright? Gotham’ll eat you alive if you don’t. Just make up a persona and roll with it.”
Danny nodded slowly, processing his words for a moment.
“Like a mask?”
Derringer laughed, a bittersweet smile on his face.
“Yeah, like a mask. Just don’t start fighting crime while you’re at it.”
“Okay,” Danny signed, his movements slow. “I can do that.”
“Good on you, kid,” Derringer said, ruffling his hair once more, “now let’s go get lunch.”
The two of them ate quickly, Danny’s mind on Derringer’s advice the entire time.
He was right, and Danny knew it. He’d seen the way that some of Mr. Cobblepot’s men had looked at him.
He wasn’t anywhere near big enough to pull off the looming intimidating look that Derringer did; his doctors back in Amity had told him that he would grow to be over six foot, but his time in the GiW seemed to have stunted his growth significantly. He was only around 5’6”, and it seemed that he was going to stay that way.
In the same way, he wasn’t nearly frightening looking enough to pull off the terrifying stares of the smaller individuals working under Mr. Cobblepot. He just couldn’t get the glare right; his face would always fall back to a blank, dead stare.
Though, maybe if he played into that…
A few minutes before they had to leave, Danny excused himself to go to the restroom. He stared into the mirror, looking into his cold, dead eyes, and let his face drop.
When he adjusted his stance, and kept his eyes a bit wider than usual, he looked downright unnerving.
Danny had already noticed that most of his mannerisms were…unusual, after his stay at the GiW base. Put simply, he had forgotten what it was like to be a human.
He had noticed that most of the people around him would avoid being in his presence, and had begun mirroring their body language as much as he could to seem more normal.
Maybe, though, it would be better for him not to.
He could lean into the whole thing. An unstable young adult, experimented on by the government for years.
Danny looked into the mirror, and wide, icy eyes stared back at him.
Danny left the restroom. Derringer turned to greet him, jolting when he did. After a moment, he nodded.
“That your new look?”
“Yes. Is it good?”
“Yeah. Freaky. Gonna take some getting used to, but yeah. Now,” he said, getting up from his spot at the break room table, “let’s go see the boss.”
Danny felt anxiety bubbling up in his chest, his entire body beginning to twitch. If Mr. Cobblepot didn’t approve of the weaponry, or if he thought they were underwhelming, would he be thrown out? Would he be tortured again, or killed?
Danny shivered when they came to a stop in front of the door to Mr. Cobblepot’s office. Failure wasn’t an option. He had to make sure this went well.
“You’ll do great, kid,” Derringer whispered, pushing the door open.
Mr. Cobblepot had been talking with a few other people, but their conversation died out when Danny and Derringer entered the room. Danny’s skin crawled.
“Ah, Danny! Just the person I wanted to see,” Mr. Cobblepot said, a large smile on his face, “Do you have one of your guns with you?”
“Yes,” Danny signed, nodding.
“Wonderful. I was just telling my associates here about your work. Do you mind giving a demonstration?”
“Where should I shoot? Do you have a target?”
Derringer was quick to translate. Mr. Cobblepot nodded, gesturing for a hired hand in the corner of the room to pull out a small wooden board, holding it up in the air.
Danny paled. He would definitely burn the man’s hands if he hit the target, even if he aimed for the furthest corner of the board.
Still, he was more terrified of disappointing Mr. Cobblepot than he was empathetic towards the man, so he drew a blaster from the holster on his leg and aimed carefully.
The blast hit the center of the board. The man holding it howled in pain, dropping the target and drawing his hand close to his chest. The nauseating smell of burning flesh filled the room.
Danny breathed shakily, in and out.
Mr. Cobblepot, for what it was worth, looked like he couldn’t possibly be happier. He and the others inspected the board on the ground closely, ignoring the hired hand as he ran out of the room, still cradling his damaged hand.
A large hole had been blown into the board, and a good portion of it had been incinerated.
“Look at that, ladies and gentlemen! I told you that Danny would deliver, and deliver he did! Imagine if that had been a person instead! Danny, what would you say would happen?”
Danny paused, trying to wince when he realized that the question wasn’t hypothetical, and Mr. Cobblepot actually wanted an answer.
“It would give them S-E-V-E-R-E burns,” Danny finger spelled the word that he didn’t know the proper sign for, “mostly S-U-R-F-A-C-E. It can’t P-E-I-R-C-E, because there is no bullet, just energy.”
Derringer translated for him.
Mr. Cobblepot frowned, and Danny frantically continued, “but it can be L-E-T-H-A-L! Burns on the head kill fast. Burns on the body make S-H-O-C-K, and kill. Strong I-M-P-A-C-T, too.”
“So they do still kill, just not instantly?”
“Yes,” Danny signed, “they’re fast. They hurt bad. Bad way to die, hurts a lot.”
“Well,” one of the other men in the room piped up, “I guess he’s not completely hopeless.”
“Of course he isn’t,” Mr. Cobblepot replied, fixing a terrifying glare onto the man, “it was my idea to bring him in, after all.”
“Danny,” Mr. Cobblepot said, turning his attention back to him, “we’re going to be collaborating with these fine individuals in the future. I’m going to need twenty guns ready for use in a week. You can handle that, can’t you?”
Danny nodded frantically.
“What kind?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mr. Cobblepot said, waving his hand dismissively, “semi-automatic is preferable, but handguns and shotguns also work. Just make sure they work perfectly.”
The room was silent for a moment.
“Well, that’s all. You can leave now, and I’ll finish discussing the details with my associates.”
Danny nodded, signing him a quick “thank you, goodbye,” and slipped out of the room alongside Derringer.
They made their way back to Danny’s workshop in silence. Once they were inside, Derringer heaved a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair.
“You really think you can make that many guns that quickly, kid?”
“Yes,” Danny replied, “but I need your help.”
Derringer groaned, a smile on his face.
“Of course you’re putting me to work. I should’ve expected it. Now, what do you need me to do?”
“Well, first, hold this…”
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ashipiko · 16 days
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DANCE WITH ME YOU LI-IA-IAR ♡
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OVERBLOT ASHI??? ANYBODY??? the ANGST that this baby can store!!! SHEESH!!!!!!! <3 I only have one post dedicated to her and liar dance lyric analysis (the post is kinda outdated in gen) BUT…… I also have an overblot monologue as a treat 🫶 I wanted to better explain her angst and so!!! BABAM!!! enjoy
ASHI’S MONOLOGUE:
Sometimes I wonder why I ended up here.
A place named “Twisted Wonderland”, and at a school named “Night Raven College”.
At first, I figured that I was the odd one out— Y’know, the Ramshackle prefect and everything. The magicless girl at the magical all boys school? Nuts, ain’t it?
I’m known for a lot of things. Things that are different from the others. The fact that I stand out is part of the Ashi charm, something I’m known for.
But… Over time I found myself sorta feeling in place here.
Because as much as I try to believe it, I can’t safely say that I’m better than anyone else here.
I’m a fake. I make conversation and lots of friends, but for what? A backup in case something goes wrong? A sense of protection for my reputation? In what case are any of those friendships something I truly want? In what case are any of these strings more than just a tool instead of a thread made of my real feelings?
Behind this, I’m no different from any other student here. Even through my individuality, my cheerfulness, my endearing oddness… I’m still a horrible person. Using people to get what I want, toying with people and their feelings in order to gain power and gain a spot the top. All to become untouchable. It’s screwed. It’s not right.
My insides are ugly. The truth of me is something I want to keep tucked away deeply, because I don’t want people to see this part of me. A brash, annoying, selfish version of me, everything people hate to see. I don’t want this side of me to be seen because people will run away— people I don’t care much about, sures, but people I love, too. I don’t want to drive them away. So I keep quiet and give them a shallow show.
I give them a source of entertainment that’s controlled by the real me, every calculated movement translating into a marionette-like response. The only show I allow you to see is one that’s so carefully crafted by the chaotic clown backstage. The one that is shunned away from the light, the strings being the only hint of the puppet’s phony existence to the foolish audience.
But suddenly, I feel as if being here has started to let this side of me come crawling back into the spotlight.
It scares me.
It scares me to be vulnerable, let all of my faults lay out on the table like playing cards. To take the risk without the protection, to gamble everything I’ve built up away just like that. But you…
You.
You make me feel safe. You make me feel as if I don’t need to hide anything. I can give you the key to my heart and you would have no malicious intent. You wouldn’t cut out the parts people don’t like. You would enjoy the performance in full, every bit of it.
You make me believe that I’m nothing special, and yet something so valuable at the same time.
It’s silly. You’re silly. And yet that’s something that’s helped me.
It’s helped me realize that that truly is just how people are.
We aren’t villains. We aren’t antagonists. We aren’t monsters.
We are nothing but people, with faults and feelings that should be valued.
I am more than just a jester, a sake of entertainment.
I’m a person who is entirely worthy of love. All of me.
It reminds me that I must’ve came here for a reason.
Because this is where I belong.
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