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phoenixtakaramono · 8 months

Note

29 - Truce or TNotG 50

Re: Questions for Fic Writers

Ty, anon, for the Ask! I’m gonna give a huge Spoiler Warning for Truce chs 3-4 (and TNotG ch1) which have not been posted to AO3 yet, so read at your own risk.

29) What songs would be (or are) on a playlist for [insert fic]? Explain your choices if you want!

…Oh goodness, last I checked there were 89+ songs I have for TNotG’s playlist, haha. They’re pretty self-explanatory, in my opinion, but I ordered the songs all by the first world we start in + the six arcs + return to Billy’s world. I’ll link the playlist at the bottom end Author’s Note when The Name of the Game ch1 is ready to be published to AO3 in September 2023, but you can also listen to it here:

As for Truce (which you can read ch1-2 here), there are 47 songs…ahhhhh, essentially for both fics, I listen to these songs I like to help set the vibe, mood, and atmosphere for me while I write. It’s like my background music/ white noise. For me, it’s usually the lyrics which tie into the story, usually highlighting a character motivation, their vibe, or just setting the scene. I can highlight a couple songs:

Crazy - Jake Daniels - It really set the vibe for me to get into Homelander’s headspace whilst writing the prologue, because everything in this chapter is from Homelander’s POV. The atmosphere, the lyrics, and the coincidental bloody superhero album art? I thought it was perfect.✨

Wolf - Zack Merci X Arcana - For ch2 (part I), this song encompasses Billy’s overall goal and manipulation of everyone (the Boys, Homelander, and Vought). It’s pretty much the theme song of this chapter.

(Keeping in mind: 🔴 Billy’s POV, 🔵 Homelander’s POV)

Lyrics:

Got you in the palm of my hand

Sowing distrust over this land

I can make it hurt till you understand […]

I was such a fool

Under your command […]

See the truth is I had change of heart

And all that I know is

I will be tearing you all apart […]

I’ll get in your head like a nightmare

And if I was you, I would be scared

Bet you never saw this coming

Don’t you know that I am a wolf in sheep’s clothing

Power - Isak Danielson - If Truce could have an opening number like how every show does, this is pretty much the theme song for Truce overall. It also sets the vibe for ch3 (part II) when Billy and Homelander finally get frisky on the kitchen island countertop, and kinda for ch4 as well. Although the entirety of the chapter will be in Billy’s POV, I want you to know as everything is happening, especially if you listen to this song when you read ch3, these lyrics represent the desperation of the ideal that Homelander sees in Billy. He’s ready for that unconditional love, for that perfect soulmate partner who gets him 100% and is just as obsessed with him as he is; in a dramatic turn of events, he’s now essentially pinning all his last hopes for a human connection onto Billy. (Notice ch1’s line: “keep me sane. Keep me grounded. You are the one person preventing me from razing this earth to the f*cking ground” before it shifts into the fear that Ryan, his flesh and blood, will end up disappointing him ➡️ pivoting to the line of how “the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over, expecting different results. Failure, after failure, after failure […] Maybe what needed to be done was to reevaluate his life. Acquire a different perspective on things, a new outlook.” ➡️ The SHEER POETIC IRONY now that he’s shifted that target in his brain to Billy after what’d happened in ch1. It’s a disaster waiting to happen but we’ll only allude to the disastrous future potential at most because Truce is 4 chapters only and not 12 chapters so we’ll end on a Happy Ending for this PWP fourshot. For me, it’s a song that shows that it’s not always a women that can get stuck in a toxic codependent relationship and that men can also be stuck in the same shoes. And if that ain’t the situation with Homelander and Billy in Truce?

(Keeping in mind: 🔴 Billy’s POV, 🔵 Homelander’s POV)

Lyrics:

I still look at you with eyes that want you

when you move, you make my oceans move too

if I hear my name, I will run your way […]

it’s my desire that you feed, you know just what I need

you got power, you got power

you got power over me

I give my all now, can't you see, why won't you set me free?

you got power, you got power

you got power over me

I was lost until I found me in you

I saw a side of me that I was scared to

but now I hear my name and I’m running your way

All I feel as I get closer to you

is the Desire to move like you do

so now I hear my name and I’m running your way

I am ready now […]

I give my all now, can't you see, why won't you set me free? […]

You’re the one that seduced me, lured me in with your beauty, now I know that you used me

All you did was confuse me, you're no longer what I need, touch me slow, feel my heart bleed

(Also this song^ is the bee’s knees. I never skip this song in my iTunes playlist when it comes up and always belt it out when I’m alone. This song is very, very, very underrated. I highly rec you give it a listen.)

Rob a Bank - Confetti - “Who's to say that I can't break into your house / While you're working / I'm just lurking through your bedroom like a mouse / Gettin' naked on your sofa wearing just your penny loafers / Take some pictures leave 'em by your dirty dishes” ⬅️ What can I say? This screams Homelander to me and I laugh at the imagery of him breaking in, trying out Billy’s shiny new polished penny loafers whilst getting naked on his sofa and taking dirty pictures of himself to leave by the dirty dishes for Billy to find. It’s like a tomcat in heat scent-marking his territory. This song does help me imagine the dynamic when we get to the NS*W parts.

Religion - Isak Danielson / Dancing in the Sky - Kristen Cruz One of these songs will represent the penultimate ch4 which’ll entirely be written in HL’s POV; Religion mostly represents Homelander’s POV (which is really just him desperately trying to deceive himself if we look at it meta-ly, but shhh, he himself is not that self-aware in ch4) whereas Dancing in the Sky represents Billy’s side of things as we end the final scene in the story with Billy given approval to take Ryan to visit Becca’s grave to pay respects and for one last emotional send-off—whilst HL (who Billy doesn’t want to see him anywhere near this day) secretly watches the private moment from far away like a lurker outsider. It’s supposed to be a bittersweet emotional touching moment to tug at the readers’ heartstrings—which gets twisted because this is HL’s POV so it becomes tampered with his desperate obsessiveness and possessiveness of Billy being his and HL’s jealousy of Becca that he won’t admit to but, as an audience, we can tell he’s supeeeeer jealous (like, thanks for giving birth to my son—but you’re dead buried six-feet under, and your husband will be my husband now so good f*cking riddance; I will be the winner; he will come to forget you and love me only). It’s a very fatalistic self-fulfilling prophecy. I REMIND YOU, we will still have a Happy Ending for the Billy/ Homelander ship in Truce (hell, HL will even get to fondle Billy’s old wedding ring and think about having his own wedding ring on Billy’s wedding finger) but we’re gonna get a couple parting ouchies as a souvenir at the end a là Becca’s resting place visit.

Religion Lyrics (HL @ Billy):

Can we say goodbye to, to the lies you told

You know I’m wiser, I’ve been here before

I believed your stories, at least the blind in me

You gave my eyes what they wanted to see

I’ve lost my reality

I’ve lost everything in me […]

You act like a God and you’re trying too hard but I need it

I was once a believer

Now I’m back to believing

I’m trying to be smart with a stake through the heart but I feel it

Turning into addiction

Praying in your religion […]

Future doesn’t matter

I'd give it up for you

Even though I know that you’d never do

You know your power and I know it too

I’ll end up in fire, burning with you

Dancing in the Sky Lyrics (Billy @ Becca):

Tell me, what does it look like in heaven?

Is it peaceful? Is it free like they say?

Does the sun shine bright forever?

Have your fears and your pain gone away?

'Cause here on Earth it feels like everything

Good is missing since you left

And here on Earth, everything's different

There's an emptiness […]

I hope you're dancing in the sky

And I hope you're singing in the angel's choir

And I hope the angels know what they have

I'll bet it's so nice up in Heaven since you arrived

So tell me, what do you do up in Heaven?

Are your days filled with love and light?

Is there music? Is there art and adventure?

Tell me are you happy? Are you more alive?

50) Answer any question of your choice, or talk about anything you want to talk about!

HMMMM. Since the ball is in my court, I’ll answer 49) What are you currently working on? Share a few lines if you’re up for it! I tweeted a screenshot of TNotG ch1 - scene II yesterday night but I can give y’all a longer preview of a couple lines from my new QT:

Look forward to The Name of the Game being posted to AO3 on September 2023! Presently exposition scenes I-II (which total 38 pages, with scene I essentially being a speedrun to catch readers who are unfamiliar with these characters and the fandom up to speed whereas scene II is laying out all the story foreshadowings and as many Chekov Guns as I can reasonably shove in for now) are completely done and edited; I’m now trying to get to the finish line of scene III which is the more…exciting part of the three scenes (where dragon!Billy, our transmigrated black-bellied scumbag ML, meets knight!Homelander, our black-bellied scumbag shou, for the first time) before I can give an advanced notice on my socials of the week it’ll probably be posted. ✌️

#butchlander #homelander #billy butcher #billy butcher x homelander #the boys tv #the boys #the boys amazon #ask #anon #phoenix talks #ty for the ask anon!#*coughs* don’t worry about the C-novel terms at the end; it’s cuz I have danmei readers who don’t know who these charas are #so it’s a way to catch the ppl—who’re only interested bc it’s a QT—up to speed #truce #the name of the game

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prophecy-is-inevitable · 4 years

Text

Indulgence of Divinity: Chapter 1

Michael Langdon x OFC

Four months after the events at Outpost 3, Michael begins to grow restless in the Sanctuary. His powers continue to grow seemingly without a purpose, and the Cooperative is clamoring to know his next move. Help arrives from an unlikely source that changes everything Michael thought he knew about being the Antichrist.

Rebuilding the world requires a delicate balance-destruction and creation, death and life, dark and light. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to do it alone.

Chapter Warnings: Mild Language (we’re just warming up)

Word Count: 3846

So excited to finally have the first chapter posted! Hope you enjoy! (Also posted on AO3 under the same title.)

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

Chapter One: Court of the Divinity

Water droplets traced the lean outlines along his torso and thighs while others collected in the hollow at the small of his back. The aqueous kisses briefly reminded him of caresses that yearned to memorize each dip and swell of a lover’s form. His eyes drifted closed as he tipped his head back, lips drawing apart to pass contented sighs, in an attempt to savor the sensation. How long it had been since it was more than an illusion… His head lulled with a deliberate slowness to feel the tension ebb and flow from the corded muscles across his shoulders, up the base of his skull, and down the center of his spine. A delicate floral note occasionally touched his senses that he couldn’t quite place as past or present, simply familiar; nonetheless, it momentarily quelled the chaotic swarm of thoughts plaguing his mind. Even kings deserved a reverie now and again.

Michael’s gaze flitted about the room as he stood from the bathing pool and retrieved his towel hanging from the decorative iron gate.

Flickering candles lined the stone alcoves and shelves carved centuries ago out of the grotto rock and filled the room with a serene luminance. Their reflections danced and swayed on the surface of the water only to writhe in the wake of his languid movements. The sheer array of burning wicks had produced a surprising warmth in the chamber–a warmth that drew memories from the rugged stone and imparted the scent of incense from pilgrimages long-forgotten into the air. A shrine to the Lord and his archangel Michael that once stood proudly at the front of the holy cavern had been reduced to nothing more than an opulent light fixture. It brought him a sense of satisfaction in no small measure, and a smug curl of his lips accompanied the thoughts of sacrilege.

‘How fitting that the Sanctuary of Saint Michael Archangel, his oldest shrine in Western Europe and a holy destination for centuries, would become the seat of power for the Antichrist of the same name. The Sanctuary of the Apocalypse,’ Michael mused while patting himself dry. The infernal heat thrumming through his veins made short work of any dampness left to his skin. The grotto he stood in had once been the location of a church. Since coming into the possession of the Cooperative, the pews had been removed to make room for a stepped recess to be carved into the floor and filled with water in the style of an ancient bath–an extension of his personal chambers. ‘Someone clearly thrives on irony.’ Of course, it was not to be lost on him and his smirk of satisfaction only grew as he pulled on the sleek black fabric of his pants.

The journey back to his rooms saw the return of Michael’s incessant thoughts of uncertainty. The existence of the Sanctuary had been somewhat of a surprise even to him. Then again, the best lies were always built from a foundation of truth. What had begun as a ruse to incite panic and chaos amongst survivors was apparently very much an actuality. An actuality that he had been living in for the last four months.

Outpost 3 had been the last for…liquidation. Once the task was completed, the Cooperative had sent him a communication informing him of an automated jet waiting to take him to a “safe place”. They didn’t want to risk the use of Transmutation, despite his ever-growing powers. The flight was long and turbulent from the dramatic air currents and storms swirling in the wake of the cataclysm. A coastal mountain topped with a medieval structure loomed outside the window as the plane started to descend. The Sanctuary.

Noticeable architecture and the few remaining geographical features alluded to a location somewhere most likely Mediterranean. Michael’s lips stretched into an open-mouthed grin, and his eyes burned from how widely they were opened as he looked at the landscape of his making. Previously turquoise oceans undulated in new scarlet waves onto a gray shore. Bare branches strained against the raging wind–their leaves decimated long ago. Armageddon had truly come, and it was by his hand. Sure, he had seen first hand the result of his handiwork in America, but the satisfaction of seeing the effects clear across the world… Michael remembered the way his chest swelled and his shoulders straightened with pride.

That had been four months ago . Fucking hell… What great accomplishments had he achieved since those glorious days of revelation? Once again, he had been left to do his father’s will with no direction, no help of any kind. The remaining Cooperative members were breathing down his neck like hellhounds, either trying to curry favor with absurd and depraved behavior (which he may or may not have accepted on occasion) or hovering for a command. How could he lead his people when he had no means of navigating the future himself? Even the stars were silent behind the eternal midnight cinders cloaking the sky.

He dropped onto the lush mattress and draped his forearm over his eyes. In times of stress, Michael’s mind conjured up images of a world that no longer existed and perhaps never had. The sense of familiarity surrounded him once again as he stood amongst the tall pines and colorful oaks. He remembered these woods. Birds trilled happily above as if pleased by his return. His blood no longer marred the earth in a ruby pentagram; sprigs of white bell-shaped flowers sprung up from the circle and perfumed the air with their sweetness. They were larger than last time. Michael crouched to slowly reach out a hand, palm up, to cradle one of the drooping blossoms.

“Do you like them? I’ve been practicing.” A soft voice reached his ears just as the scalloped tepals dusted the tip of his middle finger. The uncertainty in the voice made his brow crease. He turned his head with a frown to face the shimmering specter, their radiance shrouding any distinguishable features aside from their feminine figure. She was always there, stood in the same space his frantic young mind had hallucinated an angel while begging for his father’s aid.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” It was much more a statement than a question. Had his own imagination turned against him, too? Was this a subconscious manifestation of his own doubt?

“White and delicate isn’t exactly your style,” the figure said. Her tone had relaxed a bit at the sound of his disappointment.

“Perhaps that’s all the more reason for me to like it. A palate cleanser to the world before my eyes every other minute of the day.” The flowers captured his attention again when they began to bob in the breeze. “Beautiful,” he breathed. He couldn’t see a smile, but he got the distinct feeling of happiness from his companion. Curiously, his own heart beat a bit easier as the aura permeated his space. Michael straightened again to take in the full effect of the flowers and surround woods.

“Something’s bothering you, Michael. You’re never here otherwise,” she mused. The light shifted as she moved to sit on a mossy rock. He titled his head to look at her without turning his body. Long strands of golden hair fell over his shoulder and framed his face in the sunlight. A shrug tugged at his shoulder as he spoke.

“What comes next? Have I done all I was meant to do?”

“Is fire, blood, and chaos all you were born for?” A tight nod answered her question. “Doubtful.” She rose and stepped into the ring of flowers with him. The hair hanging in his face was pushed behind his ear by misty tendrils he perceived to be fingers. A slight chill tickled his cheek from the contact and caused the hair at the base of his neck to rise. “With each breath, you grow in strength and purpose.” One of the flower stems was placed in his hand. “Why do you think these have flourished? As you grow stronger, so do I. It would be pointless to give you more power with no purpose behind it, especially since you already hold more power than any being left in the world.” A dark chuckle bubble in his throat at that. Her words satisfied him when similar grovels from those in the Sanctuary would find his ire.

“Then why -” The presence of a frosted hand directing his gaze back towards the glowing woods stopped him short.

“Patience, Michael. Having power does not mean you have to be omniscient. It simply means you will be more than capable of whatever is required in time. You’ve given them what they wanted–there’s no reason to believe you would fail at that in the future.” Phantom fingers slid up his cheek and into his hair in a gesture of comfort and Michael closed his eyes with a sigh. “Patience, my king.”

The stone ceiling of his bedroom greeted him when he next opened his eyes. Goosebumps still prickled his skin as a reminder of his dream. For a few moments he did nothing but stare blankly, wondering if he could close his eyes again and return to the simplistic visions of his mind.

“Patience…” he grumbled, dragging a hand down his high cheeks and chiseled jaw. Could the Antichrist possess such a heavenly virtue? Michael couldn’t remember any recent time he was met with less than near-instant gratification. Several soft yet pronounced raps on the door put an end to his wishful thoughts of mental escape. That would be Ms. Mead, and he certainly didn’t want to keep her waiting. It wouldn’t do to treat the one person here that was truly on his side so poorly, and certainly not after she’d undergone such extensive repairs from the events at Outpost 3.

A rare, genuine smile graced his full lips when he pulled the door open to reveal the woman. The deep furrow of her brow and the shift of her eyes promptly removed the carefree expression from his face.

“You’re needed in the great hall.” The muscles around Michael’s eyes twitched in scrutiny. Only incredibly important or special occasions called for the use of the great hall, and he certainly hadn’t issued any grandiose decrees. She wasn’t pleased to be ignorant about whatever situation had arisen, either.

“I will be with you shortly once I’ve made myself presentable.” Michael acknowledged her request with an elegant incline of his head. Ms. Mead nodded quickly and turned on her heel to await him outside his chambers.

Michael quite enjoyed catering his looks to maximize the effect of his presence. Without knowing the purpose of this engagement, he would have to work with what previously resulted in the most success. Within three minutes, he was walking through the halls with Ms. Mead and rather pleased with his appearance. He had donned his usual black dress pants and tucked button-up, the buttons of the cuffs trailing well up his forearms. A luxurious black side button dress coat accentuated his broad shoulders and lean stature; Michael enjoyed the feeling of the fabric conforming so perfectly to his body.

Many survivors admired the thought that went into the Sanctuary’s design each time they walked the halls. Displays had been embedded into the mountain walls where the builders encountered the fossilized remains of prehistoric flora and fauna–lingering reminders that all origins were followed by the same undisputable end in time. Rivers of fire ran down trenches parallel to the walkways for sufficient lighting. Without access to the outside world, they set the fire to cycle intensity and mimic the path of the sun. At night, minerals were added to the oil to make the fire burn blue in homage to moonlight. Large fireplaces dotted the hallways for added warmth and light in the deeper parts of the mountain.

Today, residents of the Sanctuary that had found themselves a partner were happily clinging to each other in alcoves or corners. Some exchanged gifts they’d either made or traded for tied with red ribbon. Someone had poorly scribbled hearts decorating their package, and Michael’s eyebrows jumped momentarily in realization. Of course. It was February. Many of the survivors had chosen to observe the old holidays in a vain attempt at normalcy. If it gave them reason to remain happy and kept morale high, then he would allow them to cling to their absurd traditions. They smiled and waved, some bowing their heads in respect, as he passed them. An occasional brave soul wandered his way with the intention of handing him chocolates or paper flowers. Michael held up his hand to stop them with a small, appreciative quirk of his lips but shook his head.

“There’s no need for that. Your loyalty and support are enough.” They held eye contact for a moment until the person scampered away to a cluster of others standing by a fire pit. Almost immediately, Michael’s jaw squared and returned his expression to simmering annoyance.

“Ms. Mead,” he drawled, “why am I on my way to the great hall for an obligation that I can’t seem to recall arranging?” Her head shaking slightly was barely visible off to his side.

“This wasn’t arranged at all. These…people–Court of the Divinity they called themselves–just showed up and wanted to see you. Wouldn’t say what for, but I recognized the man in charge as a member of the Cooperative. Some high ranking clergyman or some bullshit.” Ms. Mead continued to shake her head and gave him a sidelong glance. “I don’t know where they get off thinking they can make such demands of their king. It’s impertinent if you ask me.” Her voice dropped to a conspiratory level. “We shouldn’t trust them.” Michael’s head tipped back with a pleased laugh.

“Oh, not to worry, Ms. Mead. We must attend to the needs of our people.” Michael stopped outside of the oversized mahogany doors and turned to the older woman. His hands came to rest on her shoulders as he fixed her with a pointed gaze. “And if they waste my time, it will be the last time that they do so.” Ms. Mead returned his look with a smile and watery eyes, one of her hands reaching out to delicately stroke the long curls resting over his collarbone before she replied. The pride rolled off of her in waves nearly as strong as the electronic pulses of her fabrication.

“That’s my beautiful boy.” Michael would always hold her affection in highest regard. With a deep breath, Ms. Mead returned to the moment and smoothed down his hair. “You go in ahead. I’ll retrieve your guests from the auxiliary hall. My king.” She left with a bow and beaming smile so Michael could take his rightful place in the extravagant throne chair at the front of the hall. He certainly cut an imposing figure. One leg rested crossed over the knee of the other, his elbows firmly on the arm rests to allow his steepled fingers to remain steady in front of his chest, and his jaw clenched with a minute grinding the longer he waited.

Several minutes passed before the heavy doors were opened and Ms. Mead, now wielding a stern expression, led in a bizarre group of men. Michael couldn’t help leaning forward a fraction in interest. Each man was dressed in different holy garb. A Buddhist lama, a Hindu sadhu, a Jewish rabbi. Those were only the ones in clear view. Still more troubling, not one of them did he recognize beyond the cardinal standing at their front. He had worked as the Cooperative’s source inside the Vatican for decades under the guise of a faithful God-worshipper. Michael lifted his chin out of habit at the man’s approach, heightened even more as the small congregation bowed before his dais.

“Cardinal Vicente Santori.” The name dripped off Michael’s tongue like saccharine wine. “To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure of your audience? For your sake, I would hope it’s something of the absolute utmost importance.” The cardinal bowed again. The tone in their king’s voice left no conflict regarding his displeasure.

“My king, as you know, we are more than 20 months through your prophesied reign,” Santori began. Michael’s intrigued gaze turned to that of ice, and he brought his chin to rest on his bejewelled fist.

“I am aware. So…what is this?” He opened his palm up towards them inviting silent answers. “As you said yourself, we are beyond the halfway point of the Apocalypse. It’s a bit late for any religious intervention.” Michael’s patronizing chuckle reverberated in the vaulted room, “Especially from you, Cardinal.” The man quickly shook his hands to brush away those notions.

“No. No, we are here for quite the opposite.” The slight tilt of the king’s head drew the cardinal’s attention before he continued. “You have done well in cleansing the stain of humanity from the world. You’ve also grown stronger since coming to the Sanctuary, haven’t you, my king?” When he did not receive a denial, Santori delved into further explanation. “We are the Court of the Divinity, tasked with a special purpose. We have the answers to that phenomenon: there is still more work to be done. Work that you cannot be expected to complete on your own. What we have experienced is only the beginning of your father’s great plan. Preparation of a canvas about to become your greatest masterpiece.”

“What would you know of this ‘work to be done’?” His father had refused to answer his own questions, yet these heretics claimed to have knowledge of his purpose? All Michael had ever wanted was answers. Would it be washed-up clerics that gave them to him? Michael ran his tongue over his teeth. The most irritating aspect of it all was that not a single one of them held a lie within their heart or mind.

“Satan was cast into the fire and chained amidst the burning lake against his will. Would you wish to remain in a prison for all eternity? Is that what you would base your greatest wish from? It is one thing to condemn others to share your fate, but it’s something else to rise above it. There has always been a deeper longing for Paradise, and what better way to secure his claim on Earth than by his son creating something that surpasses that of God. However, you will not succumb to such hubris as God, my king, for you won’t be alone.” There was a pause in the cardinal’s ramblings to let the information settle. Silence hung heavy in the air for so long that some of the men began to shift uncomfortably. Even Ms. Mead seemed to be holding her breath off to Michael’s side.

Their king stood, each vertebra aligning themselves one by one, until he reached his full height. His descent from the dais was marked by the crisp, measured knocking of his heeled shoes on the stone floor. Arms clasped elegantly behind his back, Michael approached the cardinal and looked him up and down. The older man was in his choir dress for what he must have deemed a special occasion; vibrant scarlet cassock with matching scarlet trim, red elbow-length cape over the lace-trimmed white rochet, and a red cleric’s skullcap. One item was notably missing; Cardinal Santori no longer burdened himself with the symbol of the cross. Michael stopped directly in front of the man to give him a sardonic smile.

“Will it be you, Cardinal, and your men that seek to help me with this task of surpassing God? The one you once promised to worship and honor with every breath and whom you have now forsaken?” They were so easily swayed by a little show of power. Michael had won their faith by hardly lifting a finger. The cardinal stepped aside and issued a beckoning wave back to the others. The group parted, three men on either side, to form a passage for the remaining associate at the back of their cluster.

“Unfortunately, the act of creation has always been a divine gift. We have never been blessed in such a way, though we have been given the honor of upbringing for the one who has. Our glorious purpose.” Soft heels clicked across the thin carpet runner approaching the dais. “God failed because there was no balance, which he now knows. There cannot be creation without destruction, no life without death, no light without the dark. To force one into extinction is to condemn the other. Someone once called you ‘the Alpha and the Omega,’ correct? Well, they were halfway right.” A slim hand settled into the one the cardinal left outstretched.

“My king.” Michael’s eyes quickly darted to the speaker when they stepped into his view, dipping into a low curtsey.

She was his opposite in every way. Delicate feminine features and form contrasted his strong, masculine bone structure and build. Her lustrous amber eyes met his aquamarine, and both pairs widened at the sudden jolt they received. Fire and ice. Twisting. Turning. Climbing from earth to sky. Something about her called to him. Something quietly familiar. Michael stepped forward with a creased brow while she allowed him to continue his observation. He swept a wave of her silken obsidian hair over her shoulder. Her breath shuddered momentarily, but her smile widened when their gaze met again. She waited patiently, allowing him as much time as he needed. After all, she had been patient long enough in waiting to meet him, and this gave her an equal opportunity to drink him in as well. His skin held the warmth of the fire he was born from in both color and temperature. She, on the other hand, seemed to be risen from the first winter snow. Could it be true that he wouldn’t be left to rebuild the world alone? Their proximity caused a breeze to weave through the room that centered around them. Years of waiting and begging and training…would this be the beginning of their purpose?

Clothed in flowing white, the crystalline vine embellishments captured the firelight to give her a glowing illusion. Chiffon draped from her shoulder straps and down her back in a delicate cape veil that did nothing to obscure the expense of her open back. More of the gentle fabric was braided across her chest to protect her dignity. A large portion of the bodice remained sheer except for more sparkling embellishments designed in the same intricate vine pattern. In place of a slit, the sheer fabric continued from the bodice, over her left hip, and down the entire left side of the otherwise modest, floor length skirt. It was a look meant to make an impression while still conveying the purity within her body and blood. Sensual yet sinless. She wanted him to be pleased, to be intrigued. And he certainly was in both respects. Cardinal Santori’s voice broke through Michael’s considerations.

“This… is the Divinity.”

#Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon Fanfiction #Michael Langdon x OC #Indulgence of Divinity #my fics #Michael Langdon deserves love #Writing Requests Open

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oumakokichi · 7 years

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NDRV3 Transcripts: Ouma Consults Monokuma

I’m a firm believer that there are things that can really only be conveyed in a work’s original language. Danganronpa knows it all too well: while the localisation does a good job overall bringing this fantastic series to the West, there’s still so many nuances and details that are easily lost in translation.

So as we know, transcribing Japanese text is quite the laborious undertaking, and naturally I took it upon myself to perform this task.

The following scene occurs after one of Saihara’s nightly training sessions. Much like a couple of scenes in the previous games, this one does not happen in the presence of our protagonist. Rather, it is a quick exchange between Ouma and Monokuma, and I thought it was significant, so I transcribed it.

Not only did it surprise me, because I was not expecting it, it also scared the shit out of me, because I think it’s the first time Ouma pulls out one of Those sprites. So anyway, please enjoy!

Thank you so much for taking the time to transcribe all of this! I definitely agree that trying to take the time to look at original Japanese always gives the fullest picture of what’s going on. English localization companies do their best and work under time constraints, and always have to keep in mind how best to appeal to a wider audience in order to sell more copies of the game—but that does mean that sometimes the original meaning or intention gets lost a little along the way in favor of making the game more generalized. Cutting out honorifics or particular suffixes that are specific to a character’s speech habits is just one example of this.

I’ll definitely go ahead and translate the transcription here. This is a very fun exchange in Chapter 4, and it was definitely meant to shock and intrigue the audience. The fact that we see this whole exchange between Ouma and Monokuma without Saihara around at all emphasizes that this is particularly important that it would be shown to the audience and the players, even without the protagonist around.

For anyone who wants to see a particular translation of this scene, please be careful because spoilers for Chapter 4 will follow under the read more!

MONOKUMA:

はーい、右側の白い部分は炊きたてのお米のように白く、左の黒い部分は甲子園球児のように黒い…そんなモノクマの登場でーす！

Heeere I am, my right side white and fluffy like beautiful, freshly cooked rice, my left side dark and mysterious like a Koshien* baseball player… It’s your beloved Monokuma’s time to shiiine!

(* The Koshien Tournament refers to two annual high school baseball tournaments which take place in Japan. They are generally wildly popular, arguably more popular than professional baseball.)

OUMA: 本当に来てくれたんだね。へー、こういうのもアリなんだ。

So you really did show up. Huuuh, so this kind of thing is possible after all.

個別の相談事なんてのもさ。

This kind of one-on-one consultation, I mean.

MONOKUMA: 別にルール違反じゃないからね。それに…「コロシアイが盛り上がるアイデアがある」と聞いたら放っておく訳にはいかないよ。

Well, it’s not like this actually breaks any of the rules. And besides…there’s no way I could stay away after hearing that this “idea” would definitely make the killing game more exciting.

OUMA: でしょー？オレももっと盛り上げたいと思ってたんだよね。この楽しくて残酷なコロシアイゲームをさ！

Riiight? I thought about this entertaining, brutal killing game—and I realized I want to make it much more fun, too!

MONOKUMA: その割には、”あの動機”を使おうともしないんだね？

But in order to do that, you’re not even going to use “that motive” yourself, huh?

OUMA: ははっ、わかってないな…あれだけの”動機”なんだから、もっとドラマティックに使わないともったいないでしょ？そう思って、ずっと使い道を考えてたんだけど…ようやく思い付いたんだよ。でね、ここからがオレの提案なんだけど…”ある人”が面白い事を考えてるみたいだから、そこに、あの”動機”を絡める事ができたら…

Haha, looks like you don’t get it… We’re talking about “that motive” here, so it’d be a waste not to put it to use more dramatically, right? With that in mind, I kept thinking and thinking…and I finally came up with a way to use it. Anyway, this is just my own little suggestion, but… If “someone” seems like they’re planning something interesting, if you could find a way to get “that motive” involved with their plan…

とっても面白い展開になるんじゃないかと思うんだ。ね？詳しく聞きたい？

Well, I just think that would make for a very interesting development. So? Do you want to hear more?

MONOKUMA: …………

うぷぷ。オマエって根っからの悪人なんだね。

Upupu. You really are a villain through and through, aren’t you?

OUMA: そりゃそうだよ…オレは”超高校級の総統”なんだよ？

Well, you’re right about that… After all, I’m the “Super High School Level Supreme Leader,” you know?

みんなと、世界を、恐怖のどん底に叩き落す”悪”のね。

I’m the kind of “villain” mean to knock everyone, even the world itself, into the depths.

(Immediately after Ouma’s last line, the screen cuts to black and we watch tonight’s Monokuma Theatre. And because it has to do with lies and honest people, I also thought it was significant, so here goes.)

MONOKUMA THEATER:

正直者はバカを見るって言うけど、ボクはそんな事はないと思��よ。正直者は元からバカなんだよ。だって、嘘をつかないで生きる方が、嘘をつく事よりもずっと楽だからね。だから、正直者って言うのは、楽して生きようとしている怠け者達なんだ。ちなみに、世の中の”嘘はダメ”って風潮も実は嘘なんだよ。嘘つきにとっては、騙されやすい正直者が多い方がいいからね。嘘つきがバカな正直者を増やそうとして、そういう風潮を広めているだけなんだよ。…って、これも嘘かもしれないけどね。うぷぷぷぷ。

“An honest man ends up a fool,” or so they say. But I don’t really agree. Honest people just aren’t that smart in the first place. After all, compared to living your life by telling lies, it’s much easier to get by without lying at all. In the end, “honest people” are really just a bunch of lazy bums who sit around and enjoy life without thinking about anything. Oh, by the way, the idea that “lying is bad” is actually a lie itself. I mean, it’s really a good thing for liars that there are so many easy-to-trick honest people out there. Maybe it’s just a current trend to spread the word that liars are just trying to increase the amount of stupid, honest people in the world… Ah, but of course, this might just also be a lie, though. Upupupupu.

I apologise for any mistakes that are bound to escape my double-checking. So that’s it for now. I will definitely transcribe more scenes as I progress through the game!

I don’t think there were any mistakes at all, and thank you again for transcribing this! Transcription takes so much effort and can be so time-consuming; that you would take the time to do this helps so much!

I hope everyone who read this little translation enjoyed it. I’ve written many pieces so far on how Chapter 4 is essentially the start of Ouma having to really throw himself into the villain role, and how he felt his back was against the wall for a variety of reasons.

Looking at this scene is interesting, because on a first playthrough, obviously you get the same impression Monokuma and the audience get: Ouma is a villain, he’s ominous, he’s scheming something. Supposedly he wants to make the killing game more exciting for no reason other than because he’s having fun with it. It’s very, very easy to read Ouma here as an easy-to-hate, completely suspicious villain who is planning some huge scheme just to enjoy himself by making others suffer.

But looking through this and knowing what we do about the rest of Chapter 4, as well as the other chapters later on, there’s not really any way to avoid noticing some inconsistencies. What Ouma is deliberately leaving out is the fact that he clearly already knows about how Miu is “planning something interesting” (that she has already made up her mind to kill him). He also knows perfectly well about the “secret of the outside world,” as Monokuma and he both allude to.

This knowledge itself was the motive to kill at the beginning of the chapter. As we see in Chapter 4 with Gonta, and in Chapter 5 with pretty much everyone else, just finding out about the state of the outside world is enough to drive literally anyone to be willing to kill themselves and anyone else with them, because that would seem preferable to staying alive in those conditions. This knowledge was pretty clearly supposed to turn into a surefire motive, which is why Monokuma wanted to use it—but Ouma has already taken it, looked at it for himself, and made the conscious decision not to actually kill with his own two hands if he can help it.

His counter-plan to Miu’s is clearly to combine these two events and use the motive video via the remember light, because that’s the only surefire way to get anyone to agree to kill in his stead. But this itself is already a much more complex and tangled situation than what he’s telling the audience and Monokuma. The cold and calculated nature of his plan is undeniable, but there is a world of difference between playing the villain just for fun, and playing the villain because the situation demands it and he’s determined to stay alive to try and enact his plans against the mastermind.

If this were a scene to be taken at 100% face value (even ignoring the fact that nothing can ever be taken at face value with Ouma, because he’s supposed to keep you guessing all the time), then there’d be no need for that Monokuma Theater at the end. Right here, we have more allusions to how incredibly smart Ouma is compared to the rest of the characters, and how lying, and keeping track of all one’s lies, is in fact incredibly difficult. It would be a million times easier for Ouma to stop lying, or rather, to simply lie in order to make the group like him and admire him if he really wanted to betray them all or sell them all out. In which case, the question becomes “…Why doesn’t he?”

This scene is supposed to make you uneasy, but it’s also clearly supposed to encourage you to think. There’s clearly a reason and underlying motive for why Ouma is doing what he does, and it’s pretty transparent in hindsight, but even on a first playthrough, this sort of scene is supposed to encourage players to realize that perhaps the exchange they saw just now was itself a “lie” from Ouma to Monokuma.

Anyway, I hope people found this interesting. @ne0dym did absolutely all of the transcription work for this, and I just did the translations, so please appreciate all the help they’ve been giving me! They’ve been extremely nice and a huge asset towards this kind of thing. I’m looking forward to being able to provide more translations for these kinds of scenes in the future!

#ndrv3 #drv3 #new danganronpa v3 #kokichi ouma #ouma kokichi #ndrv3 spoilers //#my meta #transcription #okay to reblog #i love that particular sprite reveal #the whole scene was good and chilling to the core #submission #ne0dym

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macbetha · 7 years

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What are some of your favorite books of all time?

sorry this took a bit to answer, i took this question prettyseriously because books mean so much to me haha. so, i made a list! thesearen’t all specifically books; there are plays and poems as well, just becausethose have a tendency to have as much of an impact me as novels and such.

D R A M A / P L A Y S

Tennessee Williams: A Streetcar Named Desire- On a streetcar named Desire, Blanche DuBois travels from the railroad station in New Orleans to a street named Elysian Fields, where her sister, Stella, pregnant and married to Stanley Kowalski, lives in a run-down apartment building in the old French Quarter. Having lost her husband, parents, teaching position, and old family home—Belle Reve in Laurel, Mississippi—Blanche has nowhere to turn but to her one remaining close relative.

William Shakespeare: Macbeth- Macbeth is thought to have been first performed in 1606. It dramatizes the damaging physical and psychological effects of political ambition on those who seek power for its own sake.

G R E E K D R A M A ( C OM E D Y & T R A G E D Y )

Aristophanes: Lysistrata- Originally performed in classical Athens in 411 BCE, it is a comic account of a woman’s extraordinary mission to end the Peloponnesian War by denying all the men sex - and it works.

Sophocles: Oedipus Rex- Oedipus was a mythical Greek king of Thebes. A tragic hero in Greek mythology, Oedipus accidentally fulfilled a prophecy that he would end up killing his father and marrying his mother, thereby bringing disaster to his city and family.

C L A S S I C S : G R E E K L I T E R A T U R E

Homer: The Iliad- Set during the Trojan War, the ten-year siege of the city of Troy by a coalition of Greek states. The Iliad mentions or alludes to many of the Greek legends about the siege; the earlier events, such as the gathering of warriors for the siege, the cause of the war, and related concerns tend to appear near the beginning. Then the epic narrative takes up events prophesied for the future, such as Achilles’ looming death and the sack of Troy, although the narrative ends before these events take place. However, as these events are prefigured and alluded to more and more vividly, when it reaches an end the poem has told a more or less complete tale of the Trojan War.

The Poetry of Sappho- She was one of the few women mentioned in ancient Greek literature and doesnot frequent the topics of other writers of her time, such as politics and war. She writes about compassion and love; her work is really beautiful andheartfelt.

C L A S S I C S : E N G L I S H/ A M E R I C A N L I T E R A T U R E

Jane Austen: Pride and Prejudice“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”This first sentence filled with irony and playfulness. The novel revolves around the necessity of marrying for love, not simply for mercenary reasons despite the social pressures to make a wealthy match.

Emily Brontë: Wuthering HeightsAlthough Wuthering Heights is now widely regarded as a classic of English literature, contemporary reviews for the novel were deeply polarised; it was considered controversial because its depiction of mental and physical cruelty was unusually stark, and it challenged strict Victorian ideals of the day regarding religious hypocrisy, morality, social classes and gender inequality.

F. Scott Fitzgerald: The Great Gatsby- The best third-wheel story of all time.

P O E T R Y / S H O R T ST O R I E S

Sylvia Plath: “Lady Lazarus”Out of the ashes / I rise with my red hair / And I eat men like air.

Sylvia Plath: “Poem for a Birthday”“Eaten or rotten. I am all mouth.”

Lucille Clifton: “Homage To My Hips”these hips are mighty hips. these hips are magic hips. i have known them to put a spell on a man and spin him like a top! Maya Angelou: “Phenomenal Woman”It’s the fire in my eyes / And the flash of my teeth, / The swing in my waist,/ And the joy in my feet.

Warsan Shire:Teaching My Mother How to Give Birth- “later that night / i held an atlas in my lap / ran my fingers across the whole world / and whispered / where does it hurt? / it answered / everywhere / everywhere / everywhere.” - “give your daughters difficult names. give your daughters names that command the full use of tongue. my name makes you want to tell me the truth. my name doesn’t allow me to trust anyone that cannot pronounce it right.” - “every mouth you’ve ever kissed / was just practice / all the bodies you’ve ever undressed / and ploughed in to / were preparing you for me. / was it a long journey? / did it take you long to find me? / you’re here now, / welcome home.” -“I have my mother’s mouth and my father’s eyes; on my face they are still together.” -“I want to make love but my hair smells of war and running and running.”

Maya Angelou: “Still I Rise”Does my sexiness upset you? / Does it come as a surprise / That I dance likeI’ve got diamonds / At the meeting of my thighs?

Maya Angelou: “Chicken Licken”When she saw a bed / locksclicked / in her brain

Edgar Allan Poe: Murders In The Rue Morgue- i read this in eighth grade and it is a mystery that stuck with me for therest of my life. it is fascinating in the way that poe always is, i so recommend it.

Edgar Allan Poe: “Evening Star”- “I gazed awhile / On her cold smile /Too cold - too cold for me.”

M E M O I R S / B I O G R A P H I E S

Christine Wiltz: The Last Madam: A Life In the New Orleans Underworld- In 1916, at age fifteen, Norma Wallace arrived in New Orleans. Sexy and shrewd, she quickly went from streetwalker to madam and by 1920 had opened what became a legendary house of prostitution. There she entertained a steady stream of governors, gangsters, and movie stars.

Stephen King: On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft - Shares the experiences, habits, and convictions that have shaped King and his work.

Y O U N G A D U L T / C H I L D R E N ‘ S

Cassandra Clare: The Mortal Instruments- so, i didn’t finish this series but it’s the memories of reading these books that makes me put it on this list. i remember reading them on the bus rides home from school, in my eighth grade history class, running to the store on their release date and begging my dad for the newest addition. it is a very fascinating universe; i haven’t watched the show shadowhunters, which is based on this series, but the books were good.

Lemony Snicket: A Series of Unfortunate Events- i read ALL OF THESE BOOKS THEY WERE MY LIFE. they were so depressing but i loved these three siblings so much that i refused to leave them alone in that horrible world. haven’t watched the netflix series!

Rick Riordan: Percy Jackson Series- for me, as a bored thirteen year old, this was one of the things that opened the door to greek mythology, which is now one of my favorite topics to study.

S O U T H E R N G O T H I C

Flannery O’Connor: “Good Country People”- Southern Gothic literature is a genre of southern USA writing. While it may include supernatural elements, it mainly focuses on damaged, even delusional, characters. The humor is strange and even when it is finally realized, it might not be all that funny, because humor in Southern Gothic stories is twisted, and usually quite vile. There are consistent grotesque themes of decay, desolation, and supernatural forces that are often credited to lost family honor, ghosts, witches, faeries, or god - but the shit all takes place on an isolated corn farm. It is a very fascinating genre and “good country people” is a prime example of this. (personal note: most of ewoatt chapter one was inspired by the southern gothic genre).

R E F E R E N C E

Thomas C. Foster: How to Read Literature Like a Professor: A Lively and Entertaining Guide to Reading Between the Lines- THIS IS THE BOOK I REFERENCE MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE WHILE WRITING. It’s an introduction to literature and literary basics, including symbols, themes and contexts, that shows you how to make your everyday reading experience more rewarding and enjoyable.

Joseph Bates: The Nighttime Novelist:Finish Your Novel in Your Spare Time - Franz Kafka was an insurance agent. William Faulkner was a postmaster. Stephen King taught high school English, John Grisham was an attorney, and Toni Morrison worked in publishing. Though romantic fantasies of the writing life don’t often include a day job, the fact is that most writers have one. Yo, if you’re wanting to write a book or just a big fanfic, please get this book. I give it so much credit.

Barbara & Allan Pease: The Definitive Book of Body Language: The Hidden Meaning Behind People’s Gestures and Expressions- It is a scientific fact that people’s gestures give away their true intentions. Yet most of us don’t know how to read body language–and don’t realize how our own physical movements speak to others. Now the world’s foremost experts on the subject share their techniques for reading body language signals to achieve success in every area of life. Great writing reference.

Natalie Goldberg: Writing Down the Bones- This text offers encouragement and advice on many aspects of the writer’s craft, from first thoughts to the use and misuse of adverbs, from where the best places are to write - both public and private.

#ask macbetha #recommended #recommendations #book recommendations #references #ref #writing #writing references

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